Can I please look like Megan Fox
There was a time when Karai would call him names, kick him in the plastron, demand that he would let her ride on his shell, beat him with her wooden practice sword, bite his arm and slam her fists against his face if she lost, trip him, steal his food, teach him how to perfect a kata, correct his stance, punch the human children who’d whisper about his appearance, catch frogs with him by the garden pond, show him her secret hiding place in the bushes - kiss him in that secret hiding place.
But that was a long time ago, the woman who stood before him now did not mock him, did not tease him for his inferior skills, did not curse and shout at her elders, did not have ruffled hair and dirty clothes and bruises and a missing tooth.
Instead she walked like water, spoke with the sharpness of a snakebite, bowed before Hamato Yoshi, before him and his brothers, with perfectly applied make-up, long, black hair in a clean knot at the back of her head, kimono draping her figure in ways that made Leonardo’s heart beat faster.
Then she met his gaze.
And the glint in her eyes told him one thing:
"I have a secret place, do you wanna see it?"