Looking back, he'll remember that it was how things worked from the beginning.
Leo's led to the Master's chambers from Kitsune's room, shocked, tottering, occasionally reaching up to touch his bare face. The shock melts into a grief that bites, a dislocation that leaves them spinning in the dark, so when he tries to kneel he collapses in a puddle of tears.
He expects anger, rebuke, violence. The rat always treated crying as weakness and punished it brutally, demanding what felt like a gallon of blood and sweat for every tear. Or he'd laugh, the way he did the last time, laugh and laugh as the heat made the water sizzle on Leo's face.
So when he cries in front of Master Shredder, he expects more of the same. He does not expect his new master to sink to his knees and gently rub his thumbs up under Leo's streaming eyes. To kiss him, hard and passionate, practically dragging Leo into his lap with the force of it.
It is the first time Leo remembers being kissed. Certainly the first time he has kissed Shredder, but the man does it so easily he must have a reason. Leo finds himself kissing back, almost against his will.
Master Shredder breaks away, but only to plant soft kisses across Leo's face, lapping tears across cheeks and chains. His eyes are bright and his breath comes quickly in a way Leo has never seen before, but it does not come with violence or contempt, so he decides it must be okay.
Master kisses him and coos to him until the crying stops. Then he washes Leo's face and dresses him in his new gear, planting kisses over each piece of bare skin before covering it in cloth or metal. He gives Leo his weapons, shows him to use them, and his eyes are full of love and pride.
They kiss again before they go out to battle, and Leo swears he can still taste salt.
 
Later on, after the rat has slipped out of their fingers, Master Shredder drags him to the dojo for a round of punishing training. By the end Leo is tired and hurting, but his frustration and self-loathing have been ground down and seeped from his pores.
He expects to be shown to his room after that, but instead Master takes him by the hand and leads him to his own chambers. That is the first time they...fuck? Have sex? Make love? None of the words quite seem to fit in Leo's head.
Whatever you want to call it, it hurts. He tries so very hard to be brave, but the pain is terrible, and made worse when it's coming from such an intimate part of his body. Every vigorous thrust of his Master's hips makes it worse, until the tears start to pour, hard as Leo tries to choke them down.
He tries desperately to apologize, but Master Shredder just smiles, pinning Leo's arms over his head when he tries to wipe the tears away. "Don't be shy," he whispers. "I want to see you like this."
Leo can't imagine why anyone would want to see him in such a state, but his Master wills it, so it must make sense in a way he'll understand when he's wiser and older. His Master laps his tears away, lips rough on Leo's flesh.
Practice as he might he can't keep from walking funny the next morning. Karai smirks when he enters the dojo, and Alopex's eyes go strangely blank (the same way she looks when she leaves Mistress Kitsune's room, sometimes), and Leo wants to cry again, but then his Master smiles. Which means everything is okay.
 
It becomes something of a routine.
Throw himself into training and serving and hunting the rat as he might, there are moments when the pain of his brothers' loss overwhelms him. He tries to work out his pain on the punching the way Raph used to, tears dripping down his face, or just find a quiet corner to sob his heart out in.
His Master seems to have an almost uncanny sense for his moments, to track Leo down when he would really rather be alone. But he tells himself not to be ungrateful; Master Shredder is simply trying to provide comfort in his time of grief. It just so happens that this comes in a more...carnal form.
"Go on," he growls as he pushes Leo against a wall, or to his knees, or onto the nearest flat surface. "Let it all out." And Leo does, letting himself cry even when his sobs are mumbled around fingers or a dick, even when he's gagging on a tear-soaked pillow.
When it's over he feels better--he thinks? It's hard to tell when he's so exhausted and fucked out, slick with come and raw from his master's touch. His face is always marked with tears and kisses, although Master doesn't bite too much and Leo gets better at finding time to clean himself as their–relationship goes on.
If he's lucky his Master will hold him after the tears dry on his face and stroke Leo's head, telling him it isn't his fault. That his brothers are watching him from afar, smiling on him, blessing this relationship. He'll kiss Leo on the mouth and tell him how strong he is, how perfect, and that no one would ever accuse him of being weak.
But sometimes he'll be called away to other things and leave Leo to pick himself up, to get back to his duties. And it hurts, but Leo sternly reminds himself that even the smallest amount of attention from his Master is a blessing. Would he rather be like Karai, left out in the cold?
 
And sometimes....
Sometimes his Master seems to get impatient while waiting for Leo to cry. Sometimes he wants to wrench the tears free on his own terms.
He calls it training, honing Leo's endurance, his loyalty, his muscle control. But a rebellious little part of Leo points out the shine in his eyes, the fast hitch of his breath, whispers that training should not make a Master look this way.
Leo will tell that part of himself to shut the fuck up, but it keeps coming back. Then he tells himself that these sessions are a proper punishment for his disloyal thoughts--because God, they certainly have to be a punishment for something.
Master Shredder will pull Leo's tail or slap his cock so that he screams in pain, then lap at the tears straining from his eyelids. He'll hold Leo's head underwater, and pull him out after far too long, fuck him as he desperately sobs for air. He'll make him come so many times until he's screaming from the overstimulation.
He'll beat Leo's limbs and face and ass with fists and whips until he's a bloody, crying mess, hurting too badly to remember which way is up. Master Shredder drags his fingers through throbbing welts as they fuck/make love, making Leo weep even harder, and then drinks the tears down with a soft hum of approval.
The ginger is a particularly terrible one. It hurts so bad, leaves Leo begging and squirming, kissing his Master's foot or frantically humping his leg, doing anything to be allowed to take it out. Because he could, his hands aren't bound, but he can't disobey his master no matter how much it hurts. It's a little irony that always makes Shredder smile as he drags his tongue over Leo's face.
Sometimes, Master Shredder has toys. And Leo tries to be stoic about it, but in the end he's always crying and trembling, stretched so full, pleading with his Master that he can't take anymore, he can't. Master just chuckles and pats him on the end. "You underestimate yourself, chunin."
And Leo always manages it. Because he is he must be worthy of Shredder's attention, because he would not have been chosen if he wasn’t. So he grits the teeth through the pain even as he cries, he lets himself be ruined and comes back for more.
 
There are times when Shredder is so impossibly, unbelievably cruel, when he's angry at the world and the rat and his chunin is the closest target. He throws Leo around like a rag doll, shakes him, beats him back and blue, pinches him so hard scales come off in little red spots. None of which is as terrible as the words.
"Whore," he growls, spit hot on Leo's face. "Bitch. Trollop. You're no better than your freak of a father." All the words that Leo hears Karai and the others whispering about him behind his back, the ones that live in his head all day long, come roaring out of his idol's mouth like shuriken and they sting.
"It's your fault they died," he whispers, hands digging into Leo's throat as he's held off the floor. "You know that?" Leo sags, because he does, deep down, not that knowing makes the words hurt any less.
Sometimes his words will be tinged with alcohol, other times it's just pure hate. Leo can't remember what he's done to attract it, but he must have. Not trained enough, maybe, or let the rat's soldiers get away one too many times.
He begs for mercy, because he's weak. 
The nights always end with him being fucked, rough and brutal, no confusion here. He'll cry, and that will make Master Shredder soften, his bruising fingers turning soft and tender as he whispers gentle apologies. But he won't stop fucking, even when it hurts, even when Leo begs him to. It's his right, after all.
Leo discovers that the trick is to let the tears fall soon enough that he's not too badly damaged by the next morning, but late enough that he won't receive a fresh beating for being a manipulative little slut. He grows quite adept at it as time passes. He's always been excellent at mastering Shredder's teaching.
It's not that bad, though, is it? After all, they have mutagen on hand to heal his most severe wounds; Master Shredder doesn't really mean him harm. And he's sorry afterwards, isn't he? He kisses Leo's face and strokes his head and whispers apologies into his scales. He didn't mean it, he said, not really.
"I only want to make you stronger," he whispers, and Leo nods. It's not like there's any other real reason for him to be doing this.
 
"Face the mirror," his master says. Leo does as he's told, trembling when his master's hands brush over his skin.
"Look at yourself," Master whispers in his ear. "Look at how beautiful you are."
He looks at himself. At the hands that have killed, at the feet that crushed throats, at the whole freakish mess of his body. He looks at his eyes, bare and red. They're always red these days. He doesn't sleep and he spends too much time crying when he's awake.
All he can think of is that rat spitting on him, telling him he's nothing. A freak, a mistake, a failure at fighting and leading, a terrible son and worse brother.
"You are perfection," Master tells him, dragging his hand up Leo's thigh, raking his fingers over the scales. "You are going to change the world." And his voice is so loving, so sure, so tender that Leo chokes.
Master keeps talking, and talking, telling Leo how strong and skilled he is. How sweetly he responds, how much he can endure. He murmurs about what pretty sounds he makes as he opens Leo up and fucks him in front of the mirror, until the weight of the gentleness makes Leo break down in tears.
Then his Master will lap them away, suck him dry, leave him exposed and aching. He drags Leo through wave after wave of salt-soaked pleasure, until he's dry of tears and cum, unable to do anything except shudder helplessly in his master's arms, a sack of broken parts held together by fraying twine.
Sometimes, he thinks that these nights might be even harder to bear than the angry ones.
 
Or maybe the real worst thing is:
"Tell me about your brothers," Master Shredder orders, kissing Leo's neck.
He didn't want to, the first time. Hadn't wanted to tangle their memories up in this, whatever this is. But Master Shredder had given him a look, and Leo had crumpled inside. He doesn't even bother to resist, now.
"Mi-Mikey," he sucks in a breath, "he, there was a pizza boy who g-gave us food, that, that he had a crush on. He'd talk about him all the t-time." Leo groans, fingers digging in the sheets. He thinks about Mikey's face, so bright with hope and love, and the ever-present ache at the bottom of his heart flares sharp.
"D-Donnie, he, he liked to listen to m-mean film reviews, on Youtube," he whispers. "Soothed him, while he w-worked, mmf." This last comes as Master Shredder kisses him in that possessive way of his, choking Leo's breath down.
"Raph," and Leo's shaking now as Master Shredder's hand moves between his legs, "he, he l-liked animals. Wanted to have a pet, but, but the rat--" He chokes on the name, on the memory of what happened when Raph tried to bring a pet home.
"Do you miss them?" Master Shredder has a finger up his ass now, but his words are as calm and relaxed as ever.
"So much," Leo whispers, squirming. Pleasure seeps through his body, an ugly contrast to the memories digging into his heart like shards of broken glass. "It hurts, I--"
"Remember how they laughed, they smiled," Master Shredder says. "Remember how proud you were whenever they mastered a new kata. Remember," and he leans close enough that his dark eyes fill Leo's whole world, "remember how they burned."
And he doesn't want to, but the memories fill his head anyway, and the pain breaks him all over again. He cries and cries as Master Shredder fills him up, cries as he comes, cries as his Master cuddles him and tells him how good he is, how strong, and doesn't he feel so much better, now that he's confronted his feelings?
He doesn't. He never does. But he closes his eyes and trusts anyway.
 
Leo does everything that's asked of him in and out of the bedroom without complaint. He owes it to Master Shredder after all, considering what the man has given him. He does what he's told to the best of his ability, no matter how much it hurts.
So when his master says they're going to do something new, he just bows his head. And he chokes down the voice that says more? You want more? Haven't I shed enough tears for you to fill an ocean by now? It's now, as he has to remind himself so often these days, his place to question.
The instructions are deceptively simple. All he has to do is kneel in a locked, isolated room and wait for Master Shredder to return. And no matter what happens, he is not allowed to fight or speak. He will not be allowed to stand up until his Master says he can.
Master makes a show of locking the door and leaving him in the dark. Leo closes his eyes and does his best to meditate, even though the once-easy task has become harder since he joined the Foot.
Still, he gets deep enough that it takes a few seconds for him to register the sound of the key turning in the look. He's sitting up, face bright with expectation, when the door opens and they come in.
They're Foot soldiers, all masked, but he recognizes some of their voices. He's caught them exchanging rumors about the Shredder's little chunin, giggling about the ugly stories Leo's sure Karai has a hand in spreading. He growled at them and tried not to didn't think anymore about it.
But now they're here, with bruising hands and gleaming eyes, unleashed in the way men can only be when they're certain no one's watching. Leo's instinct to fight--but no, Master said.
And there's no way they could have access to the keys if Shredder didn't want them to.
So he--he lets them do it. Lets them slap him around, kick him, spit in his face, chant more ugly terms like bitchand cumdup and loose little whore. And it's really just more of the things the Master has said and done to him on angry nights, so why should it matter?
Only, it doesn't stop. They fuck him hard enough to bleed, they gag him on their cocks, and it goes on and on and on. There's always another body to split him open until he screams, always another voice hissing poison in his earslit. He's torn from a dozen different directions all at once, until he can feel parting himself slipping through the new tears, never to be returned.
And when he cries, they don't kiss his tears away. They just laugh and fuck him harder.
Master Shredder doesn't come back until they've all had their fill. Leo's slumped on the ground, skin slick with sperm and blood, while they talk casually over his head. Leo stares up with bruised eyes, barely conscious, and there's no room for anything in him except for a quiet, dull hate.
Then the claws come out.
It's over fast, so fast, and Leo would almost think he was imagining it if he wasn't very suddenly face-deep in blood. He forces himself upright with a groan, swaying as bodies twitch and shudder around him.
"Leonardo," his master breathes, and it sounds like a prayer. Leo's swept up in gentle arms and pulled close, gentle kisses placed all over his face. His master whispers in his ear, talking about how proud he is, how much he loves Leo, what a wonderful job he's done.
It's too much, an impossible strain on his poor fractured heart. He breaks down sobbing all over again, hard as he tries to hold it back. Master Shredder's eyes go bright again, his breathing quickens. He lowers Leo to the floor, down among those ruined bodies, and, and....
Afterwards, Master cleans him off in the tub. He whispers more praise, the words settling around Leo like a warm blanket.
But they can't touch the cold, ugly shard that has formed deep inside him, hard as Leo tries to will it away.
 
"Chunin?"
"Hmm?"
He's being shaken awake in the bed they share most nights, the too familiar sensation of tears on his face. And, even though he's still half-conscious, the equally familiar sensation of hands on his body.
"You are troubled," Master Shredder says, rolling over him. "Let me take care of you." Leo leans up into his touch, because his body knows exactly what to do by now.
"What were you dreaming of, child?" The question is an afterthought; his Master's already focused on opening Leo back up.
"I..." Leo closes his eyes, thinking of the garden. Of the cherry blossoms, and the rippling waters, and the beautiful woman who had stroked his face and cried for him, instead of the other way around.
You are lost, she'd said. Her words made no sense and all the sense in the world.
"I don't remember," he says. The lie comes out before he can stop and then what is he supposed to do? Admit to deceiving his Master?
He waits with bated breath to be caught in the act. But Master Shredder's attention is clearly elsewhere, and he simply hums low in his throat before he starts kissing Leo all over again.
Leo isn't relieved. He isn't.
 
He's crying once again.
What brought it on this time? He honestly can't remember. These days he feels like his bones have been replaced with molten steel, burning and tearing at him with every step, every breath.
A presence draws nears, light spilling into his hiding place. For a ninja, he can be pretty worthless at keeping himself concealed sometimes.
Hands on his shoulders, pulling him close, and Leo goes stiff for a heartbeat, an icy tendril of fear curling through his belly. He firmly pushes it down (push push push, bury it deep and let it rot in your guts). He has a job to do.
Leo spreads his legs with a soft sigh, relaxing into the hands touching him. He leans into a kiss, waiting to be kissed back, to be slammed against the wall and sucked dry--
"What the fuck, dude?"
Leo jerks back with a yelp, caught off guard. Something's gone wrong, he's gone wrong, and he doesn't know what (he never does). The air rasps from his lungs in a panicked wheeze.
Even though he knows he's useless, he starts begging anyway. "I'm sorry, Master," he whispers, throwing himself flat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please--"
"Jesus--Donnie!"
His brain stutters, telling him that something is wrong here, but his traitorous mouth keeps spilling words. "Please, don't give me to the men again, please, Master, just fuck me, I'll be so good, I'll make up for it, I'm sorry--"
Someone lets out a horrified gasp. There's more shouting, and feet are running, and someone is saying stay back, let him breathe. Leo? Leo, can you hear me?
Can he? It's hard to tell? His mind is cracking and folding, past and present tangling together. The words strangle in his throat. He waits for them to crowd in around him, push him down, ruin him like he deserves, tell him that--
"It's okay. Shh, breathe. Breathe, Leo."
There's a hand in his, rubbing gentle circles along his palm.
"Breathe with us, dude. Come on."
No one kisses his tears away. But no one grabs him with bruising fingers, either.
"You're safe, ya hear me? You're safe. He's never gonna get you again."
Breathe. Yeah, he can do that. He can breathe, and he can cling on to them, and he can slowly drag himself back to the here and now. Reality slots into place around him--and then he lets out another sob, because he remembers, and oh God what he just said...
But they're not disgusted with him for what he admitted, don't call him slut and whore They just keep rubbing his hands and telling him that they love him. And they keep it up until he's ready to reach out to him and get pulled into a hug, warm arms sealing him off from the dark world as the sobs slowly die away.
“We love you,” they tell him. “You’re safe.”

And slowly, but surely, he begins to believe it.