Nothing hits him, but for a split second Raph's vision skips to black, and the world tilts nauseatingly to the side. But Don is down. Right where he wants him. Instinct can take over the rest.

Yame, he says. Stop. That one word would pull the plug any other fight during training. But if Don thinks this is some kind of sparring match, he's got another thing coming.

With stars still spattering drunkenly across his eyes, Raph dives to pin Don to the floor like a bug. A black torrent of hurt and hatred is erupting in his chest, and every part of him is aching to bury it deep in his brother's face.

He'll stop when he wants to. When Don's hurt enough to never, ever do this to him again.