i asked for death, but instead i'm awake

by 6ar3lyhum4n (naofaun), naofaun

Summary:

Cold.
Why was he cold? He hadn't been cold since— well, since the first time he was alive.
His eyes opened.

He was not where he had last fallen asleep.

Rocks were sent scattering noisily across the dusty floor below him as he shot to his feet. His fists curled tightly at his sides, every muscle tensed and poised for a fight that he wasn't even sure would come. Where was he? He had never seen this place before.

[former title: a cat's nine lives]

Notes:

• Inspired by Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die by BumblebeeEnby
• Inspired by Bucket List by Mattecat

Chapter 1: cut off my wings and come lock me up

Chapter by 6ar3lyhum4n (naofaun)

Cold.

Why was he cold? He hadn't been cold since— well, since the first time he was alive.

It dug under his skin, bit at the tips of his ears and the edges of his fingers. He dug his fingernails into his arms and shifted where he lay. The place that he had begun to call home was never cold like this, and it had been a very, very long time since he woke up shivering.

His eyes opened.

He was not where he had last fallen asleep.

Rocks were sent scattering noisily across the dusty floor below him as he shot to his feet. His fists curled tightly at his sides, every muscle tensed and poised for a fight that he wasn't even sure would come. Where was he? He had never seen this place before.

Or had he?

He spun around, peering through the shadows that cloaked his surroundings.

A large boulder there, a pillar of cracked and broken wood standing ominously from the ground. His toes rested on the edge of a large, gaping hole, curled with the tension wracking through his body. Recognition washed through him accompanied by a wave of nausea. He bit his tongue to fight the bile swimming in the back of his throat.

No one was around to hear the agonized scream that tore through his throat and echoed against the cave walls.

—

Ninjago was nothing like he had left it.

Lights so bright and colourful that his eyes stung hung off of every building. Towers stock full with windows stood so high that he could have been convinced that they touched the clouds. And there was so much noise. Vehicles that he couldn't recall the name of whirred their motors past him, people yelled at one another or laughed together or chattered excitedly about nonsense. At some point, he walked directly past a restaraunt with open walls and had to brace himself against the clatter of silverware and piercing laughter.

His lower lip stung, bitten raw and bloody. His fingernails were caked with mud and dust, and he was sure that the cloth rags hanging from his body weren't in any better condition. Various cuts and bruises from unknown sources littered exposed limbs, a sure sign of the fact that he was no longer a ghost. Occasionally, he walked past a person that stared at the state of him, and he did his best to glower at them until they looked away. He longed for the peace and quiet of his death.

It had been a week since he woke up. He counted every day as the sun set to a golden hue, wandering aimlessly throughout the world as he had done so many times before. Only when the cool wind blew through his hair did he have a moment of peace from the thoughts plaguing his mind. His chest had a sort of persistent, dull ache in it, and he couldn't quite cough hard or frequently enough to clear the itch in the back of his throat.

When he'd stumbled across the city that he had lost himself in, he couldn't help but succumb to his curiosity. The first vehicle he encountered startled him straight of his skin and he was sent stumbling back from the road into a light like a fool. The only person that noticed didn't even stop to check on him. He'd been so embarrassed that he hid in an alleyway until hunger gnawed at the lining of his stomach and he was forced to move.

And now, he was lurking outside of another store that he couldn't quite read the name of on the bright green sign above the door. He had dug through his single pocket — the other one was too shredded to hold much of anything — long ago only to find nothing of value, and so, he was stuck to the same methods he had used in his youth. He found some small reassurance in the fact that it was instinct by then, second nature to him.

Wu hadn't erased his history after all.

The door rung as it swung open, and it took everything in his power not to leap out of his skin. His heart hammered against his ribcage as if it were trying to escape, but he inhaled deeply and carried on. He would get nowhere by panicking. The last thing he wanted was to get caught by some kind of authority and have the Ninja notified of his return.

“Hello there, and good morning! How can I help you?”

The voice startled him and he swung around, fist raised over his face protectively. The face staring back at him was entirely unfazed by his movement. Dull stormy grey eyes met slitted olive green ones and it wasn't until the man before him took another breath to speak that he lowered his fist and allowed himself to relax just slightly.

“Look, man, I don't have all day,” he sighed, crossing his arms over the bright red polo he wore, “I have bills to pay. Do you want to shop alone or not?”

Morro blinked blankly, nodded, and retreated into the aisles before him. He wound up directly in the center of the, as labeled, Farm-acy. Boxes and bottles of various items that he didn't know the name of lined every shelf in sight. It only took a quick glance at the signs dangling from the ceiling for him to realize that he was on the complete opposite side of the store from where he needed to be.

Good.

His shoulder stung when he rammed it straight into the shelf. The noise of it toppling over and sending various items flying and scattering across the tiled floor rung in his eardrums. But it had been a success, as multiple workers rushed over just in time for him to duck behind another shelf and disappear from the crime scene.

“Hey! Let me help you with that.”

That voice.

He halted in his tracks. Oh, no.

He was so dead.

One of the Ninja — the blue one, though he was out of uniform and therefore had his ginger curls showing in all their glory — turned the corner directly in front of Morro, froze, and dropped the box he had been carrying. Morro wished that he could have sunk into the floor and disappeared forever. It definitely would have been a better fate than whatever was about to befall him in that moment.

Jay didn't hesitate before reaching for his waist where the silver chain of his nunchucks glinted in the florescent lighting. His eyes, as blue as the lightning that pierced the most cloudy of nights, narrowed to thin slits and his jaw clenched so tightly that it must have ached. Morro really, really did not want to have to fight him.

It was a shame that he knew he looked no different than the last time they had met like this. He could have spun a lie, acted as if he were a stranger that just happened to share similarities with the ghost that had possessed his best friend and tried to destroy all of the sixteen realms one by one. The only difference was the fact that he was a solid figure now, not the vaguely green-tinted smokey transparent person of their past.

He didn't even have a weapon on him. That had never truly been a problem in the past but now, he was hesitant to call upon his power and make things worse than they already were.

“How are you back?” Jay sounded as shocked as Morro had been, “You’re supposed to be dead!”

Morro shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Jay lunged before Morro could even try to plea his case. His feet flung from the floor and his back smacked against the wall behind him hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He wheezed and coughed and raised his hands to catch the nunchuck swinging straight for his skull. It felt like his lungs were being squeezed by a snake. His eyes watered, stinging, and he wondered for a heartbeat if he was dying all over again.

“Wait—” he gasped, clutching at the nunchucks a little tighter, “—I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Normally, he never would have resorted to full-on begging for a fight to spare him. Even the thought of doing so made his skin crawl and hair prickle with distaste. He would not humiliate himself like that, would never stoop lower than the people around him. Even doing so now had him ill, but what choice did he have? He was in no state to be fighting. Hunger plagued him and made his limbs shaky and unsteady, and he no longer had the transparency of being a ghost on his side.

He hated being alive.

Jay’s teeth ground together hard enough for Morro to hear it beneath him. Conflicting emotions plagued his expression — heavy distrust and hatred, but at the same time, hesitance, and an urge to know more. Morro understood the feeling all too well. It was the same way he had felt when his world faded to black for the first time and he was face-to-face with the creature that would plague him forever.

Footsteps. Heavy ones, from the sound of it.

Morro froze stiffly. Jay didn't budge, a sure sign that he recognized them as somebody he knew. That spelt out trouble for him. If he was in a poor spot to be fighting one Ninja, he was in a terrible spot to be fighting more than one. It was all he could do to hope that they had not traveled in a large group and Jay only had the company of one other friend. Perhaps not a Ninja at all. Perhaps it was his family, or another friend, or something.

“Jay? What’s goi— Oh.”

Morro stared blankly, stunned out of any other response that he could have possibly had. Cole stood before him, significantly different from the last time that they had met. He was no longer a ghost, for starters. His skin was back to its normal, dark shade, though it was rich with more scars than Morro remembered. His hair was longer too, and he could barely see a bright orange mark beneath some of the locs that hung above his eyebrow.

He wasn't nearly as hostile as Jay had been, nor as shocked.

Of course he wasn't. Cole had been around when Morro said goodbye for the final time. He had seen the bittersweet acceptance that had shone in Morro’s eyes, the sad, twisted smile that he bore, the way that he lingered for a heartbeat as if he had intended to say — or do — something else before leaving. He had seen the way that peace changed Morro.

He just wanted to sleep and never wake up. He wanted the quiet solace of what he had grown to know as his home. Instead, he shifted into a more comfortable position beneath Jay and stared over his shoulder at Cole. Part of him expected to be attacked despite the very clear lack of violent intent before him. Still, he brought his knees up to guard his stomach and curled his fists.

Cole sighed heavily. Morro noted that he was also significantly bigger than he remembered. No longer was he struggling to grow into his height with the scrawny muscles of a teenager. Baby fat still clung to his face but he looked much fuller, much more mature. Envy crawled below his skin before he could shut it down, and he was speaking before he could think about it.

“You’re different,” he said, voice drier and more abrupt than he intended. He did nothing to correct himself.

Jay huffed, annoyed, and shoved at his chest, pushing him further back into the wall. He glared as hard as he could manage.

“... Do I even want to know?” Cole sighed, again.

“Are you fucking serious—” Morro bit his tongue, inhaled sharply, and tried again. “I don't know how I'm back either. I just woke up here . I don't want to be here any more than you want me here. Can I please get up now?”

Jay only seemed to hold him down harder. The corner of Cole’s mouth twitched with amusement and he did nothing to help. Instead, his arms crossed over his chest and he buried his eyes into the bottom of his palm as if he could erase the sight of Morro. If only.

“We can't just let you go!” Jay protested, stammering, “You tried to destroy the world! Multiple of them, mind you! An entire sixteen!”

“Yeah, tried. And in case you didn't notice, I failed.”

Silence. Morro could only bask in his victory over the spurt for so long. A crowd of concerned passerbys were beginning to collect around them, and Morro really wanted to keel over dead more than anything in that moment. The hair on the back of his neck prickled under the attention. Maybe he could shove Jay off of him and make a run for it. He could always use an old trick and boost himself with the wind.

His scheming was interrupted by Cole laughing. Both his and Jay’s heads shot up to look at him as he covered his mouth in a failed attempt to muffle it. He took a few minutes to settle down but when he did, his expression was so serious that it caught Morro off guard. Had he always been like this? He couldn't quite remember well enough. Most of his interactions with the Ninja had been between Lloyd and Kai.

Kai…

He was glad that Kai was nowhere to be seen.

“Come on, Jay, let him up. He's had plenty of chances to attack you and he hasn't. We might as well talk about this somewhere more comfortable for all of us.”

Jay stammered profusely, looked between Morro and Cole rapidly, before grumbling something incoherent and rising to his feet. He shot an apologetic glance towards the workers observing in the distance, then grabbed ahold of Morro’s wrist tightly. He flinched and yanked at his arm but Jay didn't let go, and he reluctantly succumbed to his fate after a moment of hesitation.

—

Grease stuck to Morro’s fingers and stained his teeth. He would have complained if he wasn't busy shoving food down his throat like he'd never eaten a proper meal in his life. The salt of the fries and ketchup burnt his already cut lips, soothed only temporarily by the occasional sip of sugary, carbonated soda. He'd eaten like this only once before, a long, long time ago.

It felt good to gorge himself on unhealthy food. Wu never would have let such a thing stand when he was a kid, and he was too busy being dead since then.

Cole and Jay sat across from him, holding hands where they thought Morro couldn't see. Jay’s face full of freckles were highlighted beneath the warm light of the lamp hanging above them, as was the cold stare that he was currently giving Morro while he ate. Neither him nor Cole had ordered anything. The only contribution Cole had made thus far was promising to pay for the meal when Morro expressed his concern over his lack of money.

“... We should give him to Ronin,” Jay remarked, breaking the silence only to grin mischievously up at Cole. “It would keep him busy and far away from us. Hell, it'd keep them both busy.”

Morro swallowed and tried to pretend like he wasn't listening. The worst part about Jay’s suggestion was that Cole actually looked contemplative, as if he was entertaining the idea and not at all reluctantly. He tucked both of his arms beneath the table to pick at the scabs littering his arms. His foot bounced hard enough to rock the chair he was sitting in and suddenly, he wasn't very hungry anymore. It was a good thing that he had already finished everything on his plate except for a few crumbs.

“Well, he has to prove that he's not a threat somehow,” Cole conceded, “and Ronin is capable enough to keep an eye on him and tell the truth to us if he's a problem. We can't watch him and look for Wu at the same time.”

Morro wanted to protest, but—

Wait.

Look for Wu?

He didn't get the chance to ask any questions. Cole and Jay stood up with Cole sliding a couple bucks onto the table and gesturing for Morro to follow. He scrambled to his feet and after the pair as they walked away without waiting for him. But he was nothing if not stubborn, and he would get answers if it was the last thing he did.

He was also nothing if not dramatic.

“What do you mean, ‘search for Wu’?” He demanded, following at their heels.

Cole didn't look back at him. “He’s missing. Been that way for about a year or so, now.”

Morro fell silent, thoughts swimming. He ducked into the backseat of Jay’s car compliantly and buckled his seatbelt as he’d been previously instructed. Cole was absolutely keeping something from him, whether intentionally or not, about Wu. Was he truly missing, or had he just run off without telling anybody anything again? If he was missing, then….

Had he even thought about Morro once since his final death? Had any of them? He was sure that Lloyd had, he had seen the state that the boy was left in when Morro succumbed to the sea. But for the rest of them, wasn't he just another villain they had fought off, another task to have completed? Even now, he was just a responsibility that they didn't want to have to deal with.

He sunk a little further into his seat and stared sullenly out the window of the car. Cole silently reached across the dashboard and turned on the radio. Morro tried not to flinch — the first drive, he could barely wrap his mind around the concept of a radio. Vehicles themselves were still as baffling as they had been during his second life. He tried not to think too hard about it.

Did Wu realize how often he plagued Morro’s mind? How often he wondered if things could have been different? If only he had been treated like the kid he was instead of something else. If only Wu had been the father that he clearly wished he was. He could have turned out different — he could have been better. Maybe he could have been a Ninja working alongside Lloyd even now. Not the Green Ninja, of course, but something more mellow. Something more normal.

 

Ronin’s shop was closed for the night by the time they pulled into his driveway. The only light turned on was on the second floor behind closed curtains, and Morro could vaguely see a tall figure moving around behind them. Jay parked the car and sighed through his nose before he and Cole both unbuckled in sync and opened their doors. Morro rushed to follow, but a raised hand from Cole had him halt in his tracks.

“Wait here, we’ll come back for you when it's time. We don't need you scaring the shit out of him right now.”

Morro frowned but obliged. He watched through the windows as Cole and Jay walked to the front door. The sky, a deep, vibrant blue as the sun was steadily setting, reflected off of the windows of Ronin’s home and made it difficult to see much of anything. Still, he remained alert and spectated stubbornly when the door opened and the Ninja entered, a solemn look on their faces.

It wasn't too late to escape from the car and go drown himself somewhere for the second time. He could return to his home and go back to sleeping in meadows beneath the warm sun. That would have been infinitely better than the situation he was in now — peace and quiet, just like he had always truly craved.

It wasn't until he was seriously considering retreating that the door opened and Jay and Cole walked out with Ronin behind them. Morro’s stomach dropped to his feet but he stayed put as they approached, fully preparing himself for the violence that he was about to undergo. Ronin looked anything but happy, and he couldn't even blame him for it. He had ruined the guy’s life, even if half of it was his former friend.

Chapter 2: just pull the plug, yeah, i've had enough

Chapter by 6ar3lyhum4n (naofaun)

Summary:

trigger warning for the end of this chapter;
morro contemplates killing himself seriously, as opposed to passively throughout the chapter before and most of this chapter.

-

this one's honestly a bit shorter than the last one but uuhh yeah. enjoy. i guess. idk

Notes:

thank you user silverskye54 for finding the link to the fic i mentioned in chapter 1 i will be adding it as soon as i publish this

Ronin stared at him for the entirety of the time it took Morro to carry himself into the house. He had his arms crossed firmly over his chest and his nails dug into his skin, leaving white crescent marks in their wake. He looked rougher than when Morro had left him — his beard was scruffier, and his eyes had dark bags beneath them. Morro did his best to avoid meeting that cold gaze of his.

Cole and Jay had left the moment Ronin agreed to take him in. He did his best not to take it personally; of course they hurried away, they had better things to do than make sure Morro was as miserable as possible. Like saving the world from lost, tortured kids like himself. Would they tell Lloyd about what had happened? He was as much of a lost, tortured kid as Morro himself was. He had seen that much in his memories.

Ronin pointed firmly towards a creaky old staircase. “Go upstairs. You can have the extra room to the right.”

Morro didn't reply. His lungs burnt as he struggled up the stairs, cautious of the wood creaking beneath his still-bare feet. By the time he reached the top, his hands trembled furiously and his breaths came in short gasps. His heart gunned in his chest as if he had run a marathon, and Ronin stared at him with an expression of vague concern. He wanted to crawl into the floor and die.

The room he entered was as dusty and old as he expected it to be. Each footstep stirred a layer from the ground, and it was all he could do not to have a coughing fit. The furniture in the room had clearly been stolen from various trash-cans on the side of the road, as no one with half a brain would combine such different shades of wood together. The bedframe creaked as he sat down on a stiff mattress.

His hands, covered in a fine layer of dirt and dust, trembled as he buried his face in his palms. It wasn't until the clearing of a throat had him jumping out of his skin that he realized Ronin was standing at the door. He leaned on the doorframe, arms still crossed, and stared at Morro as if he were attempting to read his mind. The two of them stared at one another for a minute or two before Ronin spoke up.

“You’re lucky I don't call Nya here right now to get rid of you once and for all.”

Morro deliberately looked away and wrapped his arms around himself, picking at scabs that had only just begun to form over the cuts on his skin. He chose not to point out that Nya could only do so much to him, with him no longer being a ghost, but there was no ignoring the cold terror that ran through his blood at her name alone. His teeth ground together and clicked. He longed for peace once more.

“Whatever,” is all he managed, dry and annoyed.

Ronin sighed. “I only agreed to this because I was offered a huge sum of money to keep you out of trouble. Try anything at all, and you're done for. Goodnight.”

And with that, he walked away. His footsteps thudded until a door slammed closed in the distance.

Morro curled up on the bed and tugged a blanket over himself. It was thin and his feet stuck out from a tear on the bottom, but it was somehow better than anything that he had ever felt before. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. His nose stung and he took a deep, struggling breath in a feeble attempt to control the sobs that threatened to wrack his body.

His hands clamped over his mouth to muffle his wails as much as possible. He trembled like a leaf in the wind, wet, hot tears streaming down his cheeks before he could stop them. Everything hurt , almost more than anything had ever hurt him before. His chest ached like a hammer had been brought down on his ribcage. His head pounded deep in the recesses of his brain.

Was he dying again?

He hoped so.

—

His eyes burnt.

The sun shone through dusty windows, casting its warm rays over the bed that he lay on. He rolled over with a groan and laid his arms over his eyes in a feeble attempt to block it out. His stomach grumbled, rolled and rumbled, and he let out a long sigh. There was no falling back asleep now that he was as hungry as he was.

Morro always hated eating. Even when he had all of the food he could possibly dream of at Wu’s, feeding himself was a war. Deciding what to eat, preparing it, eating it, cleaning up afterwards.. It was so much work. Another perk of being dead was that he had no need to worry about food.

The noise of dishes clattering downstairs drifted up to Morro’s bedroom. Ronin must have been making breakfast. Surely for himself only. There was no need for him to move and crawl downstairs like a stray dog only to get his hopes crushed. He would have to wander outside until he stumbled across enough sustenance for himself.

He was already mentally preparing to sneak outside and find something to eat when someone knocked on his door.

“Food’s downstairs.”

Ronin’s voice.

Morro’s legs shook as his feet planted on the ground. Ronin was gone by the time he opened the door and peered down the hallway to make sure it was clear. As he made his way downstairs, his stomach rumbled again, a sharp, throbbing pain rippling through his gut. He hugged himself in an attempt to ease it somewhat and stumbled through the house until he could recognize a kitchen.

Another man sat at a table in the corner, tearing into a slice of bacon. He was as scruffed up as Ronin, but the dark brown mop of hair on his head was brushed and slicked into a clean swoop. He had on a sleek black shirt, half-buttoned to just beneath his chest with its sleeves rolled up. Ronin stood in the room as well, piling eggs onto a plate. Across the table from the man was an already loaded plate, and it was there that Morro sat.

Silence spread over them for a heartbeat while Morro focused on shoveling food down his throat. The man stared at him for a moment but eventually went back to doing his own thing, and Ronin joined them with his own plate in his hands. Ronin leaned across the table to plant a kiss on the man’s cheek wordlessly. Morro’s nose scrunched with vague disgust and he focused a little harder on his food.

“Chill out, kid,” Ronin interrupted, frowning, “its not goin’ anywhere. Don't need you choking to death on my watch.”

Morro opted not to mention that he would rather choke to death than remain here for another day. “Sure,” he mumbled through a mouthful of egg, but did nothing to slow down.

 

“So,” the strange man spoke, leaning on one elbow, “you’re the infamous Morro, huh? Name’s Dareth.”

Morro snorted. “You mean the same Morro that came back to life, possessed the Green Ninja, used his body to try and kill the other Ninja, summon the Pre-eminent, and try to take over all sixteen realms? Yeah, that's me.”

Silence. Dareth glanced at Ronin for a second, then continued to eat quietly. The corner of Morro’s lip twitched with amusement, but he fought back laughter in favour of his food. He finished before Ronin and Dareth, so he stood to retreat back to his room. Neither of them wanted him around and that much was obvious. He may as well crawl back under his covers and sulk in peace.

“Hey.” Ronin interrupted his escape, pointing at the plate that he left on the table. “Put that in the sink, then sit on the stairs until I’m done eating. I might as well put you to work if you're going to stay here.”

He grumbled complaints under his breath but obliged. The noise of the plate clinking against other dishes had him fighting the urge to drop it and cover his ears. It rang in his skull insistently until he was at the stairs, hugging his knees to his chest. Ronin and Dareth spoke to one another in hushed voices for the remainder of their meal, then Dareth was leaving the house and Ronin was pulling on a pair of worn brown boots.

He finally looked at Morro with his keys in one hand and the other resting on the doorknob. “Do you have shoes?”

Morro shook his head.

Ronin nudged a tattered pair of sneakers closer to him with his toe. “Take mine for now, then.”

Morro shook his head again. The feeling of trapping his feet in shoes had never been pleasant for him, and he was absolutely not going to do so now. He was already miserable enough. Ronin looked like he wanted to fight Morro’s refusal, but all that he was met with was a long sigh and a pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, but if you step on a nail while we're out here, you're dealing with it on your own. Come on.”

—

Morro ended up unable to help very much. His arms were too unsteady and weak to carry the pieces of scrap metal from storage to where Ronin was working on some kind of mechanical suit. His stomach churned and his chest stung. He was useless and weak and pathetic, and the only reason that he was here now was because he had nowhere else to go. He was a burden.

He should have ran away and drowned himself right then and there, but something told him that he would only wind back up in this situation.

“Pass me the screwdriver.”

Ronin’s voice stirred him from his thoughts. He sighed as heavily as he could manage and shoved the screwdriver into Ronin’s open palm. Unfortunately for Morro, the gloves he had put on were too thick for him to feel the sharp end of the tool. Instead, wind blew through the open garage door and rustled old papers pinned to the wall. It deliberately turned to blow Ronin’s hair in his face.

He glared at Morro very pointedly and brushed his hair back behind his ear. Morro snickered.

And then yelped as a sharp pain stabbed into the top of his foot and rippled up his leg. He jumped back a moment too late, arms shooting out to catch himself mid-air. A blanket of wind pushed his shirt hard against his back but kept him from toppling over. Ronin didn't even look at him as he grabbed the screwdriver that had been dropped onto his foot and slammed it back into his hand.

“Fuck you,” he spat venomously.

Ronin rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, too.”

A bitter silence stretched over them as Morro crossed his arms and sullenly watched Ronin work. Whatever he was doing was interesting enough to hold his attention, even as he didn't have the slightest clue about any of it. Occasionally, Ronin stood up to fetch more metal and bend it to his will, only to plaster it against the mech.

It all reminded Morro of days spent in a field, grass tickling the bottom of his feet and warm wind brushing against his cheeks as he watched Wu put together furniture for him. A sort of bittersweet sadness settled in Morro’s throat. He wished that he had never stayed with Wu. He wished that Wu had never put those promises of greatness into his mind. He wished that his parents had never left him behind with only a fear of becoming nothing to accompany him.

He wished that he had never believed that he could have been the Green Ninja. He wished that he never wasted away his childhood with bruised knuckles and bloody noses as he spent days upon days training for something that he would never be good enough to achieve. He was never good enough for anything. He would never amount to anything. That was the ultimate truth of his life, one that he realized long, long ago but still tried so desperately to fight.

—

“Why did you do it?”

Ronin asked him the question over dinner. They were both coated in a thin layer of dirt after a disaster testing the mech’s new functionalities, but Morro firmly fought the mere suggestion of taking a shower to clean it off and instead pointed out that he could just blow himself clean later. Ronin was far too hungry to argue and opted to cook instead.

Morro blinked at him blankly and he emphasized, “follow the Pre-eminent’s demands. Why?”

Morro shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He picked at the edge of his cuticles until skin tore painfully and blood trickled from the wound. Neither of them acknowledged it.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Ronin scoffed. “If there’s one thing I learned over the years, it's that there’s always a choice.”

“Maybe for people like you, but not me. You had people to help you eventually,” Morro argued, his voice thick with emotion that he desperately tried — and failed — to swallow back. “I was alone. It was only me and her, and her voice has a way of digging under your skin like a leech. She promised me greatness and threatened me with torture to the likes that you couldn't even imagine if I didn't obey.”

“So don’t you dare victimize me. I know I hurt people. I know I tortured you and Lloyd and- and the others, but I didn't have a choice. There was no other option for me.”

Ronin fell quiet. Morro swallowed the last of his food in one bite, stood up so quickly that his chair screeched against the floor, and practically threw his plate in the sink. His sore foot stung as he raced upstairs, but it was nothing against the burn in his throat and the stinging in his eyes. He slammed the door of his bedroom as hard as possible and threw himself into his bed.

His pillow wound up soaked through by the time sleep called for him. His eyes closed and he drifted away into nightmare after nightmare that jerked him awake, sweating and gasping for air in the darkness. Just as soon as he began to get used to peace and quiet, he was thrown into the world once more with all of the expectations of somebody who actually wanted to be there.

He gave up trying to sleep before long and simply stared at the ceiling in silence, sorting through all of the different ways that he could take his own life the next morning in an attempt to discover the least painful way. He needed to return to the Departed Realm before he drove himself mad with agony.

Chapter 3: tear me to pieces, sell me for parts

Chapter by 6ar3lyhum4n (naofaun)

Summary:

trigger warning for suicide

 

a full attempt this time lmao. this is a rough one buckle up chat

Notes:

bmth album that's the spirit is very morro coded 10/10 would recommend

The world spun around him, a cyclone of colours that swirled around one another until they mixed into a thick, inky black, choking him until he clawed his throat raw, blood rolling under his nails and then that blood was swelling up his throat and his vision flickered like an old lamp—

Morro shot up straight in his bed. He gasped and wheezed and trembled and shook. The corners of his eyes stung and his cheeks were wet with hot tears. It took a few minutes for him to collect himself and calm down enough to look around the room and make sure he was still where he had fallen asleep — and not somewhere rich with green and black nothingness.

Someone was yelling.

His ears strained to catch words thrown like weapons downstairs. The voice was familiar enough that his brows furrowed together and his fists clenched at his sides, but his mind was still muddled and his thoughts died the moment they appeared. Whatever they were saying could not be heard well enough, and Morro opted to roll over onto his side, nestled underneath his blanket with his nose pressed against the cold, wooden wall.

His door protested as it was swung open and slammed against the wall. Morro shot up for the second time within the span of a few minutes. He stood on his feet that time though, with his fists curled at his side. The air around him tightened as he prepared himself for a fight, swirling around his hands and lacing through his fingers as a cat would around the legs of its owner.

A flash of gold and a flicker of green was all he saw before he was sent stumbling back into the wall, cheek stinging. He yelled and threw his fist at a barely recognizable blur of that same green, heart thudding against his ribcage. The world faded around the pair and he couldn't quite make out his opponent, even as they launched at him until they were holding his flailing body against the wall.

His thoughts buzzed with electricity and he thrashed in the strong grasp on his arms. The air crackled around him, whistled through strands of greasy hair until he realized what it wanted and stilled. A few deep breaths, a few minutes spent with his eyes tightly shut and heart pounding in his throat, a few wordless commands to the world.

His opponent yelled as they were launched backwards with a strong gust of wind. They collapsed onto the ground, unsteady in the face of Morro’s element. He spun around to face them, teeth bared and a snarl rumbling in his throat like a cornered dog. Their eyes, as golden as the sun’s rays breaking through leaves in a forest, narrowed with rage as they met his own.

It was only then that he recognized them.

Lloyd struggled to his feet as Morro stood frozen in place. Nausea wallowed deep in his stomach, threatening to rise at any moment. At some point, his door had closed tightly, and he was vaguely aware of someone knocking and banging at the wood like their life depended on it. His gaze remained locked stubbornly on Lloyd, though, and it wasn't until he was once again a blur of hostility that Morro was snapped back into his instincts.

His foot ached hard from the impact of slamming it into Lloyd’s jaw. His knuckles thudded against any skin that they could access. He didn't stop even as the pain throbbed through his wrists and up his arms, settling deep in his elbows. Whatever noises Lloyd made, whatever he may have said, it all died the moment it reached Morro’s ears.

Arms wrapped tightly around him, pinning his hands to his sides. He was vaguely aware of a furious yet panicked scream being torn from someone’s throat — was that his voice? — as he struggled, thrashed and squirmed. His head knocked against something sharp, his toes scratched against the floor below him and the air around them spun in such a tight circle that he had to gasp for air.

The corners of his vision darkened. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, and he was suffocating, drowning again, fighting with tooth and nail to prevent it all from happening again— He couldn't die again— Not like this, not drowned again—

“Morro!”

The panicked scream of his name cut through all of the other noises flooded by his own panic. His joints locked up on themselves and he stilled, exhausted, chest aching right where his heart threatened to burst his ribcage open. He could barely see through the strands of his own hair covering his eyes but there was a face pressed against his own. A face that didn't back off until he bared his teeth again.

Lloyd stood in the centre of his bedroom, staring at Morro. His nose wrinkled and dribbled dark blood and his brows knotted together. Bruises were already beginning to form all over his face and neck, with a particularly nasty one blossoming over his jawline. His lip was cut open and bleeding in various spots as well, but none of that compared to the cold fury and hatred hardening his eyes to stone.

Kai stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder as if it would do anything to calm him down. He wouldn't even look at Morro. His hair fell over his head in a mop of unkempt strands, a sure sign that he hadn't been awake long enough to finish whatever routine he did to it. And then there was Cole behind Morro — he could recognize the black and orange gi on those arms that held him still, as well as the heavy sigh that fell from his lips and ruffled the top of Morro’s head.

Lloyd spoke first.

“Why are you back?” His voice trembled, but there was no mistaking the intensity of the fury in it. “You— can't be back. Its not fair. We already killed you.”

Rage and grief and terror alike flickered in Morro’s chest like an old flame, rekindled in the light of his old enemy. “I don’t know!” He yelled louder than Lloyd had, doing his best not to shake. “How many times do I have to tell people this?! I don't know how I’m back! I don't want to be back!”

Cole sighed again. Morro tried not to bristle at the feeling of his breath in his hair.

“Lloyd, please. He helped us during the Day of the Departed.” Morro opted not to mention that was really only so he could return in peace. “And if he really wanted to do something bad again, he would have done it by now.”

Both Kai and Lloyd looked doubtful, but neither said anything. Morro’s thoughts swam and the room seemed to sway unsteadily beneath his feet. The silence prickled in his ears. White dots flickered in his vision and he was vaguely aware of Cole’s grip tightening around him as his body gave out on him. His legs buckled and his head rolled to the side. He banged at the corners of his mind desperately, begged his body not to give out then, not around the Ninja, anywhere else— It didn't oblige because of course it didn't, why would it listen to him—

 

When he woke again, he was alone.

The room was quiet. He'd been placed back on his bed, on top of the tattered old blanket. His door was wide open still, and he could hear voices downstairs once more. He didn't wait to try and understand what they were saying.

The window creaked as it opened. Morro didn’t stop to make sure nobody heard him, just clambered out onto the edge of the roof. His feet ached all the way up to his ankle but he persisted, stretching his arms out and focusing on the flow of the wind around him to balance. If he fell, he would just catch himself. The wind always had his back when nobody, nothing else did.

He wandered the City by himself until the sun set and the only light was from the neon signs everywhere. Ninjago was active even at nighttime. People walked all around him, barely casting him a second glance. Although surprised — after all, who wouldn't stare at a dirty, dusty, greasy boy with torn clothes and bloodied knuckles wandering nowhere by himself? — he found himself grateful for the lack of attention on him.

He has no idea where he was going, and he preferred to keep it that way. After all, he could always find his way back. All of his time spent growing up with nowhere to call home and nothing to his name except for the clothes on his back and his unusual connection to nature led him to develop an uncanny ability to navigate, even when he was paying little to no attention to his surroundings. If anything, it was a fun little challenge for himself, something to keep his mind busy while he tried to ignore the hunger pains settling deep in his bones.

At some point, though, he halted in his tracks. The concrete beneath his feet was cold enough to hurt, but he ignored it in favour of staring, craning his neck to see the top of the building he found himself by. It was the strangest shape he had ever seen before, with a huge dome of a base and an even taller tower stretching into the clouds. It must have had a hundred floors, or perhaps more than that.

An idea formed in his mind before he could stop it.

His knees creaked like an old door as he crouched, gathering individual balls of wind beneath the palms of his hand. As he leapt, he used the wind to launch himself from the sidewalk and then to carry himself up, up, up, until he could see the top of the tower. An angular, neon blue C labeled the tower as belonging to somebody that Morro couldn't quite place, though the name lingered in the back of his mind alongside his memories of inhabiting a body that was never his.

He let go of the wind once his feet were firmly planted on the top of the tower. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he stood in awe of how far he could see. The only other time that he had been so high up was his struggle for the top of the Wailing Alps but, though he was definitely higher up, the visibility was much worse. Miles and miles of snow reflecting sunlight into his eyes made it quite difficult to see very far.

It wasn't until the sun began to rise once more that he moved from the spot he had taken to simply look over the city. He walked forwards until his toes curled over the edge of the roof. Somehow, he expected his third death to be as terrifying as the other two, as rich with agony and a struggle to survive. It must have been different to kill oneself than to be killed.

As he fell, he willed the wind not to catch him. It buffeted against his clothes and sent his hair flying everywhere, bit at his arms and neck until his eyes stung, but he persisted stubbornly. He wouldn't survive any longer suffering like he had been in his few days of being back. If he hadn't done this sooner, he may as well sentence himself straight back to the Cursed Realm.

He managed to roll his head back enough to stare at the sunrise. His eyes burnt even harder, stinging deep into his brain, but it didn't matter. He was dead in a few minutes, anyway. He may as well enjoy his last moments alive.

The sunrise was as beautiful as it always was. Purples, golds, reds and blues stretched across the sky, painting the world in a colourful hue. He wondered, for a heartbeat longer than he would have liked, if the sun was some higher being, gifting him one last goodbye. Of course it wasn't, though. Thinking such things were the foolish thoughts of a child that wasn't quite aware of how little he mattered to the universe.

Morro wasn't that child anymore. He was well aware that he was nothing.

He wasn't quite sure what time it was when he connected to the ground. It was abrupt, a sensation of terrible agony as every bone in his body split in half and shattered in numerous ways. He wasn't sure if he screamed or if his voice died as quickly as he did. Surely somebody screamed. He planted directly beside a crowd of people that had no idea he was coming. Comedic, in a sort of twisted way.

He lay there, in so much pain that he couldn't breathe — or was that because his lungs had been punctured and pierced by broken bone? — for what felt like an eternity before his vision faded to black and the world left him behind.

Chapter 4: you're all vampires so here, you can have my heart

Chapter by 6ar3lyhum4n (naofaun)

Notes:

damn this mf cant stay dead he's just like garmadon fr

The bounty creaked in the wind with years and years of being shattered and repaired repeatedly behind it. The wind had started only a few hours before the Ninja gathered on the deck, clinging to anything that would keep wooden planks beneath their feet. It whistled as it blew through, buffeting their hair flat to their face and carving their skin raw.

Jay shivered and squinted through the dark clouds blanketing the ship. His arms wrapped tightly around his chest in a feeble attempt to protect himself from the weather. The furrow of his brow and the slight part of his lips was a sure sign that he was anxious, one that Cole recognized well and attempted to remedy by standing close to his side.

“Does anyone else have a bad feeling about this?” Jay questioned, turning his head to look at the group behind him.

Kai and Lloyd stood together, with Zane a slight distance away. Lloyd looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. The bags under his eyes, the unkempt blond mop of hair on his head and the way his eyes didn't seem to really register anything in front of him — it all made Jay feel a little more anxious and overwhelmed. He shifted on his feet, contemplated cracking a joke, and then ultimately decided against it when he couldn't come up with one funny enough.

The blue in Zane’s eyes created a glow that Jay had to squint through as he scanned their surroundings. A long, long time ago, before things were truly as miserable as they were now, Zane never would have tapped into his robotic side as much. Now, it was second-nature to him, as instinctive as breathing.

Before Zane could say anything, Lloyd tore away from Kai’s side and stumbled to the door. “I’m going to check on Nya,” he managed, before bolting inside and slamming the door behind him.

Kai and Cole exchanged a look of concern but neither made a move to go after Lloyd. They were all well aware of Lloyd’s need to be alone when he ran. The last time that somebody had attempted to push that boundary, they wound up with a bruised cheek for a week and a half.

“The weather anomaly is being reported all over Ninjago,” Zane informed, the glow of his eyes dimming, “with no direct centre. I am unsure if there is any meaning behind this, perhaps it is simply a storm setting in.”

A flash of lightning and a roll of thunder accompanied his words, as if to back him up. Jay sighed and leaned on Cole’s side, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt to conceal the way they trembled. Cole, entirely unfazed, looked over the curls atop his head to address Zane in reply.

He didn't get the chance to say whatever he was going to. The door swung open and rattled against the wall opposite to it, and Nya came running out frantically. Her hair whipped against her face and her eyes stung but the news she had was more important than her comfort. All of the other Ninja turned to face her, and it was impossible to mistake the fear in them as anything else.

“Ronin called me,” she gasped, “Morro went missing.”

—

The last time everyone had changed into their gi and equipped their weapons so quickly was when the Time Twins threatened Ninjago. Nya stood at the head of a worn, old table, her mask pulled around her face as she went over all of the information that she had been told. Lloyd, though Kai had insisted that he stayed back, stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest. The mask of his gi was held in his hands so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“We should split up,” he suggested, all but interrupting Nya. He ignored the perturbed look from her. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

A moment of silence as they all exchanged looks. Kai took a step forward, his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed beneath his mask. “Pairs would be more efficient, just in case. I will come with you.”

Lloyd looked like he wanted to protest but ultimately obliged with a sigh. “Sure. Jay and Cole can go together, as can Nya and Zane.”

 

Lloyd wound up entirely unable to summon his dragon. He rode on the back of Kai’s with his arms crossed and his gaze locked on the rise and fall of the dragon’s deep red wings. Anxiety brewed nauseatingly deep in his stomach, swirling like a cyclone of disaster. He couldn't quite get rid of the feeling of Morro in his mind, fighting his consciousness, and the terrible, terrible terror that gripped his heart.

His fingers shook. He buried his hands in the crook of his elbows and did his best to look as if everything was normal. Nothing was normal, though. Nothing in his life had ever been normal. He wondered if Morro longed for normal the same way that he did.

No.

He would not think about Morro.

They would find him and return him to Ronin and then he could continue about his day, searching endlessly, hopelessly for any sign of Sensei Wu. Lloyd would end the day as exhausted as he did any other day, collapse into some motel room somewhere, and spend the night trying to fall asleep without having a horrifying nightmare. He would not think about Morro. As far as he was concerned, Morro did not exist.

“We’re going by Borg Tower,” Kai reported.

He was worried about Lloyd. That much was obvious with the way he spoke, as if Lloyd were some fragile kid, about to cry at any moment. He was always worried about Lloyd, especially lately. There was a time, long ago, when he couldn't look at Lloyd without his lip curling with disgust. When he was jealous of Destiny’s choice. It was the same way Morro had looked at him when they first met.

It wasn't his fault.

He didn't want to be the Green Ninja. He didn't want to live his whole life fighting a war that would never end. Peace was never an option, not for somebody like him.

And the world hated him for it.
He hated himself for it.

The dragon’s wings tucked close to her side as she dipped downwards under Kai’s command. Lloyd’s legs tightened around her stomach to keep himself steady, but he didn’t voice his complaints. The world faded into a blur around him, though he wasn't quite sure if it was because of the dragon or the ache in his stomach. Perhaps it was some combination of both.

Borg Tower broke the fog of the storm with an aura of neon around itself. Lloyd had to squint to see clearly, but it would have been impossible to miss the commotion on the ground. Kai immediately narrowed in on it, and the second they were close enough, he dismissed the dragon. They ran the rest of the way over, pushing through the crowd to the centre, and—

Oh.

Lloyd had to back up so he didn't vomit on Kai’s back. His hand shot towards his mouth and he trembled, unsteady on his feet.

Morro lay on the ground in a mess of his own blood. Each of his limbs twisted into impossible angles. Lloyd didn’t let himself see anything more. He stumbled backwards and let the crowd wrap around Morro once more so he didn't have to look. His head swam. It was no longer clear which way was up and which was down. He couldn't breathe.

Kai was yelling something. The words didn't register in his mind. His knees hit the ground and the pain gave him enough clarity for a split second to realize that it was him calling for help. For someone to call an ambulance, or the police, or— or something, anything. As if there was any helping to be done now. As if anything could save Morro now.

His chest burnt with the effort it took to breathe normally. Fog rolled at the edges of his mind, threatening to capture him within its grasp, and he couldn't quite muster the strength to fight it. His arms and legs steadily lost any feeling they had before. His heart gunned in his chest.

Lloyd’s head shot up.

Something had shoved itself past him, brushed against his legs and then darted away. He could barely make out a small, grey form through the blurriness of his vision. Whatever it was headed straight for Morro without hesitation. It must have been some kind of small animal, but—

The strangeness of it all had him rubbing his eyes and blinking to clear his vision. When he could finally see straight, he was left even more confused. He stumbled to his feet and made his way to Kai’s side. He had to lean on his shoulder so he didn't fall over again, but he was too intently focused on the sight before them to notice.

It was a cat. A scraggly thing, with long grey fur as dark as the sky above them. It curled up on Morro’s chest, uncaring of the blood and bones that it had to walk through to get there. Its ears remained perked, alert, with little white tufts of fur sticking out and blowing in the wind. It was entirely unfazed by the gore around it and the shock on the crowd’s faces.

Lloyd spared a glance at Kai. He looked as lost as Lloyd felt.

It purred for only a minute before leaping to its feet and running off. Lloyd didn't turn to see where it had gone. His eyes were locked on Morro’s body, wide enough that the whites could be seen all the way around. His fingers curled into the shoulder of Kai’s gi.

All of Morro’s wounds were gone, as if they had never been there in the first place. His clothes were still torn and his blood still stained the floor, but his chest heaved and rippled with the effort it took to breathe. Lloyd held onto Kai a little tighter. The floor swayed beneath him for the umpteenth time that day.

“You… saw that, right?” Lloyd’s voice was as unsteady as the rest of him was.

Kai’s only response was a nod.

Morro shot up suddenly, gasping as if he'd been drowning. His hands shot for his head and his fingers tangled into his hair, pulling at his scalp. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he shook like a leaf in the wind. Only when he looked up at Lloyd and Kai, eyes wide and teary, did the storm around them begin to settle.

“This isn't a dream, is it?” He choked out, curling up on himself. “Oh, God, I’m really back again…”

—

Kai had wanted to take Morro to the hospital. They spent at least five minutes arguing back and forth before he gave in and instead opted to scan Morro’s body for any injuries himself. Nothing had been spotted, much to his dismay. He really couldn't stay dead, could he? Destiny must have had it out for him personally.

Lloyd was dead silent for the entirety of the dragon ride back to Ronin’s shop. Morro sat between the two of them, stiff as a rock. His discomfort must have been amusing to Kai, because his eyes wrinkled at the corners whenever he looked back at Morro. He did his best to ignore it and pay attention to the way the wind felt blowing through his hair. It had always been a soothing point, even moreso when he could get on the back of a dragon. Like when he was possessing Lloyd.

The sun had come out from behind the clouds, casting a warm glow to Morro’s hollow cheeks. It was almost enough for him to relax and forget that he was with two of his worst enemies. His fingers twitched.

“We’re going to have to investigate that,” Kai broke the silence without turning to face them.

Morro wondered if he was talking to Lloyd, or if it was a reappearance of the weird device that he had to tear out of Lloyd’s gi when he had possessed him because the Ninja kept trying to talk to him through it. He picked at his cuticles and drew more blood that trickled down his finger and onto his shorts. It was only visible on the black material when he squinted, so he continued to pick without a care.

“I know. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Kai said. The device, then. “A cat just came out of nowhere, laid on him, and then he was back. A tragedy, I know. Shame he couldn't stay dead.”

Morro scowled at Kai’s back. Although he very much agreed with the sentiment, it was another thing entirely for someone like Kai to say it. He acted like he was so much better than Morro, but the memories he had accessed in Lloyd’s body suggested that they were more similar than anything. He hated it.

But he also knew that he would hate sympathy even more. Either way, he would hate Kai. He just hated Kai.

“I have no idea. It just ran off. We were kinda too busy by the, y'know, resurrected asshole to pay attention much.”

Morro’s scowl deepened, if that were even possible.

—

As he clumsily got off of the dragon and made his way into the shop, very pointedly ignoring the few customers that stared at him — though he couldn't quite blame them for staring — he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. Even if sleep meant countless nightmares.

If Morro were stupid, he would have thought that the look on Ronin’s face when he walked through the door first was relief. He wasn't stupid, though.

Kai followed behind him, noticeably without Lloyd. Morro didn't care.

Ronin stood from where he had been leaning against the wall and looked over Morro’s head at Kai. He said nothing to Morro and let him walk past to climb up the stairs into his bedroom. He had zero interest in listening to Kai talk about how annoying he was and how Ronin should keep him on a tighter leash.

He had a lot to think about.

The tattered old blanket on his bed had been replaced. He shut the door firmly behind him, ignored looking at the bars over the window as if he were some kind of prison inmate, and instead examined the new blanket. It was surprisingly soft in his hands and a deep grey checkered pattern that contrasted with the bright wood of the bed.

He snorted. Leave it to Ronin to have such poor taste in furniture.

He collapsed into the mattress with a groan audible to only his ears. He pulled the blanket over himself, rolled over to face the door, and stared at it for a long moment.

Ronin…

He expected to be lectured the next morning at breakfast, if he even got it. He had messed up greatly, and that was never without consequences, even when he was a kid living under Wu’s guidance. He curled up a little around himself and tried not to tear up by taking deep breaths. His chest hurt from the effort of it all.

Maybe he would wake up the next morning in the Departed Realm and the past week would have been a dream.

Maybe. Hopefully.

Chapter 5: the world's a funeral, a room of ghosts

Chapter by 6ar3lyhum4n (naofaun)

Notes:

hey guys sorry this one took so much longer than the others. im incredibly occupied with irl stuff, my boyfriend and my friends are all moving in together and it's a lot of work to sort out. he's been crashing at my place this week while we wait and my parents aren't exactly being any help at all. i don't know how regular chapters will be in the future but im locking the FUCK in when i can

Morro never knew his parents. He didn't know their names or the way they looked or the sounds of their voices. Most of the other kids that he had spent his early days with had some kind of memory, even if it was just one. There was one kid that he had sort of gotten along with that only had an old drawing on yellowed paper, scratches of pencil memorializing their faces for him to stew over.

Morro didn't have any of it. He could sit around and theorize about what they looked like. He could understand that one of them probably had his dark hair and dull green eyes, and the other probably had the sharp shape of his nose and the hollowness of his cheeks. But he had nothing to confirm nor deny his theories. He didn't know which parent his power came from, or what had even happened to them.

For all he knew, he didn't have any parents.

Wu had told him that he didn't know his parents either. That he didn't even know a Master of Wind existed in Ninjago. He wasn't much surprised that one existed. There was an element for everything. But there was never any record of it anywhere. His power had come along just like his life had. Unexpected and spontaneous.

He spent a long, long time training himself under Wu’s command. A good portion of his control over his element was subconscious. He would fall over and the air would catch him and balance him. He wouldn't be able to reach an apple off of a tree, so the wind would blow and knock it into his hands. Both he and Wu were new to his element, and it took a long time to be able to use it to his will.

Now, though? His control over the air around him was natural, instinctive, if not a little exhausting at times. He couldn't quite summon a tornado for long enough to ravage his enemies like he longed to, and he couldn't quite fly around freely for more than a few minutes at a time. Wu told him that, one day, he may be able to. If he reached his true potential.

Was that even a goal possible for him? Morro wasn't sure.

 

Morro rolled out of bed reluctantly at the rap of knuckles on his door. He could smell food downstairs. His stomach rumbled loudly. He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to keep it out of his eyes. Part of him wished that he could clean off without being paralyzed in fear at the mere sight of water in front of him. The other part of him was so used to grease killing his hair that he didn't quite care.

Before he had succumbed to the ocean and drowned, he had spent a good portion of his life submerged in water. The monastery that he had spent a few, vital years at had a river close by that he spent all of his time at when he was not training. The water around him felt as natural to him as the wind that he controlled. He felt most at home there, even moreso on windy days.

Now, though? He couldn't even look at water without his breath catching in his throat.

Ronin was nowhere to be seen when Morro opened his door. He blinked blankly and checked both ways before making his way down the stairs. The wood was as rough against the bottoms of his feet as it always had been. Absently, he wondered if that was intentional. Some elaborate plan to cause him discomfort in return for what he did.

He took his time entering the kitchen. His gaze lingered over the room in between, catching on the front door and the windows beside it. The blinds were closed and the curtains drawn tight. They had not been like that in the few days that Morro had spent with Ronin before. Unease prickled beneath his skin.

Ronin was already sitting at the table. He didn't look up at Morro when he entered. His focus was fully on the food on his plate as he shoveled it down his throat as if he wanted to finish eating and leave as quickly as possible. He was already fully dressed with his heavy boots and hat on his head. Morro silently took a seat across the table from him and picked up his fork.

“I made extra food on accident,” Ronin said gruffly, “so it might as well go to you.”

Morro tried not to roll his eyes.

“Here, take this.”

Morro looked up. Ronin slid a small piece of paper across the table at him. He stopped eating for long enough to peer at it and eventually pick it up to take a closer look. It was a fifty dollar bill. Why was he being given money? Let alone so much of it?

“There’s a mall not far from here. Buy yourself some new clothes. And some soap or something, while you're at it. You stink.”

Morro scowled but pocketed the money. “I thought I was going to be doing more work.”

Ronin shook his head. “My work for today is something I gotta do by myself.”

Suspicious, to say the least, but Morro couldn't find it in him to care. Whatever Ronin did to occupy his time didn't matter in the slightest to him, and if it meant that he had more free time, he was grateful. Maybe he would get caught doing something illegal again and end up in police custody. Morro wouldn't have to live with him anymore if he was in jail.

Wind rustled his hair as he closed the front door behind him and pocketed the money he was given. The concrete below his feet had been warmed by the sun, and he took a few seconds to appreciate the sensation before departing. If the sun remained shining strong then he had nothing to worry about. However, if it started raining…

He wasn't quite sure where he was going. Ronin had mentioned that the mall — whatever that was — was close by, but he had no clue where to go or what to even look for. He supposed that he had plenty of time to wander aimlessly, and that he might as well do just that. It would give him some time to think. He had plenty to think about, after all.

His thoughts trailed through the past few days as he walked with his hands shoved into his pockets and his hair blowing over his eyes. Wu was missing, and it was apparently such an issue that each of the Ninja were far too occupied with locating him. It wasn't an unusual occurrence in Morro’s youth for him to wake up and have Wu nowhere in sight for days at a time. It didn't take long for him to become used to it and no longer be concerned.

Had he broken that habit, or was something more serious happening? If something more serious truly was happening… did Morro have it in him to care? His heart still stung and his breath still sharpened whenever he thought about Wu, whenever he recalled everything that happened to him. Rage bubbled in his stomach like lava in a volcano. His fists curled until his nails left crescent-shaped marks in his palms.

If he hadn't been filled with false promises as a child, maybe things could have been different. He worked so hard for even just a flicker of pride in Wu’s eyes, and he scarcely ever got it. The fear of disappointing Wu, of being so worthless that he was thrown onto the streets again…. It felt so suffocating at times. He would have done anything to prevent his fears from becoming reality.

Morro never should have entered his monastery. He never should have clambered up all of those stairs with those other kids, all for some measley hope that he would receive food that he got nowhere else in the city. He never should have let Wu taint his mind with all of those promises of being something great. He should have stuck out the rest of that night without food and found something the next morning when the sun rose and nobody was around to notice him shuffling through their trash.

 

He didn't realize that he had reached his destination until he halted in front of a large, square building with the words ‘NINJAGO CITY MALL’ in bright neon letters atop the entrance. He had to squint to read the text properly. The lights burnt into the backs of his eyes, and he wondered why there was so much neon everywhere if it hurt this badly to look at. Perhaps the general population was as stupid as he thought it was.

The mall was practically empty. He double-checked every crevice where somebody could be, and only saw a maximum of three people wandering about. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his ears strained to catch every noise that he could. A large, empty place spelled out nothing but trouble. It was surely only empty because of the time of day, but…

Had Ronin sent him here to die again?

Hesitantly, he took a step forwards. The tile flooring was cold against his feet. It eased his racing heart, if only slightly.

He wasn't quite sure where he was going. The mall seemed to be an amalgamation of smaller stores put together, and each individual store had decorations out front to symbolize what they were selling. Most of the stores were clothing stores, with strange figures in odd poses in the windows to show off the newest outfits. It took Morro an embarrassing amount of time to realize that the figures were not, in fact, alive.

Morro wandered for quite a while before any shop caught his eyes. The entire front of the store was painted black, and neon stripes ran up and down in various colours. All of the windows in the front were shaded, but the dark, ragged clothes being displayed were familiar to him. A good portion of the rest of the stores that he had passed were targeted with a more feminine, summery look. This was more like what he had always worn.

The door rang as he opened it. He tried not to flinch. The store was incredibly small, with tight hallways between aisles of clothing. In the centre was a desk with various modern equipment that he couldn't quite recognize, and a woman with her black hair tied up and multiple piercings scattered over her face. He avoided meeting her eyes when she smiled at him.

“Welcome! Let me know if there's anything that I can help you with,” she said cheerfully, in a way that made the back of Morro’s neck prickle with suspicion.

He stood stiff and contemplative for a second or two. Surely she wouldn't be a threat to him. He should keep an eye on her and keep his guard up, but otherwise he was free to move. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides a few times, and then he was moving through the store to examine the clothing.

By the time he had a few shirts and pants tucked under his arm, he was ready to leave. Morro turned heel to make his way back to the desk. And then he froze up, the blood in his veins turning to ice. A glimpse of red, followed by a loud, rambunctious voice that he could have recognized from anywhere. Kai was here. Because of course he was. Why would Morro be allowed one day without any trouble?

He backed up an inch or two. His gaze flitted through the aisles, scanning for an escape route. There was nowhere to go but forwards. He swallowed thickly, steeled his nerves, and forced one foot in front of the other.

Kai halted in his tracks the second that he saw Morro appear from behind an aisle of bracelets hanging in a mess of bright colours and wild shapes. His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed, and he reached for his side as if expecting a sword to be ready to extend. There was nothing though, only the keys attached to his jeans by the belt. He muttered something under his breath and shoved both hands into the pocket of his red sweatshirt.

Morro stared at him.
Silence for a heartbeat or two.
Kai opened his mouth to talk, and Morro ran.

He ran from the shouting behind him, ran from the sound of shoes against tile flooring chasing him, ran from the way his heart pounded in his chest and his lungs heaved like they never had before. His hands trembled and he slowed for long enough to adjust the clothing in his arms. His vision was beginning to blur and the white, florescent lights above him sent the room spinning.

The air tightened around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his instincts do the rest of the work for him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was on the street with the mall hanging in the distance like an ugly storm cloud. His hair and the edges of his clothes blew around in the wind that surrounded him like a protective barrier. He took a deep, shaking breath, and swallowed the bile that rose in the back of his throat. He had just stolen from a mall as large as that and let the wind carry him to safety.

Was he insane?

The wind only settled when he took another series of deep breaths and set off on his way back to Ronin’s shop. His mind fuzzed like a blanket of cotton was placed around his brain, and he couldn't even find it in him to be disturbed. The more he walked, though, the more his legs ached like they had been shattered in half with a hundred hammers.

He stared a little too long at the top of the tower as he walked past it.

What was going on with him?

Notes:

*slaps morro on the back* this babys got a load of trauma in him

Chapter 6: no hint of movement, no sign of pulse

Chapter by 6ar3lyhum4n (naofaun)

Notes:

hey guys i didn't forget about this fic after all (ive been trapped in the object show world for too long release me???)

The change of clothes felt good on Morro’s worn, dirty skin when he finally put them on. He stared at himself in a mirror hung above a crappy old dresser for a few minutes, contemplating whether or not it was worth trying to return to the mall and purchase more clothes. There was no way that he would be allowed back in that store after the woman had caught such a clear glimpse of his face, even though a few days had passed since then. Maybe there was another store nearby that he could get the same type of clothes from.

He stepped very cautiously over a pile of dirt on the floor. He'd managed to focus a very small jet of air and clean as much of himself off as he possibly could without using water. And yet, he still couldn't quite shake the feeling of muck, oil and other unpleasant sensations from clinging to his every movement. It might do him some good to cut back a bit on the death, that sure had its way of dirtying up a body.

“Morro,” a gruff voice, quickly followed by rapid knocking on the door, jolted Morro from his crisis. “Someone’s here for you.”

He halted in his tracks and stared at the door, hard, like it would jump out and attack him at any second. Who could have possibly been going out of their way to visit him? Briefly, with a stab of terror that locked his joints and kicked the air from his lungs, he wondered if it was Lloyd. Was he going to have to fight again? He was so tired of fighting.

Morro waited until footsteps faded into silence outside of his door before he stumbled over to it. His body ached with how tense his muscles were. His neck throbbed alongside his heartbeat. He almost considered boarding up his door and staying inside for the rest of the week. Surely Lloyd would leave him alone if he made it obvious enough — Lloyd was just good and pure-hearted like that.

He was being a coward.

The stairs creaked as he made his way down them. The air around him was tense with anticipation. He could scarcely breathe as he turned the corner and stared hard at the scene before him. Not for the first time and most definitely not for the last, he contemplated turning heel and bolting from the scene. There was nothing they could do to catch him if he ran fast enough.

Cole slowly rose to his feet from where he'd been sitting at the kitchen table and stared at Morro as if he were a ticking time bomb. His hands raised to the level of his chest, palms outwards, as if it would do anything to make himself less of a threat in Morro’s eyes. His forehead creased, eyes wrinkled and lips curved into the most passive smile he'd ever seen.

Morro wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He was being treated like a terrified dog.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Cole said, as calmly as he could manage. “I just.. want to talk. Let's go out, the two of us, and get a bite to eat or something.”

Morro squinted at him and said nothing. He took it as an invitation to keep talking. “None of the others know I’m here with you right now. If I do something to hurt you, you can do whatever you want to me and they won't find out.”

What a strange point to make.

“Fine,” Morro grumbled eventually, if only because his stomach rumbled with an unkind reminder of ever-present hunger.

Cole’s smile was more genuine and humourous that time. “Hey, we have something in common. I’m starving.”

Absently, Morro considered saying something about how Cole wouldn't know what starving even meant, a half-hearted attempt to dig under his skin and make him regret seeking out Morro’s company. He wound up silently following him out of the shop instead, his eyes digging into Cole’s back. He kept track of every miniscule movement; every step forwards, every lift of his shoulders as he breathed.

It didn't take long for the silence to grow uncomfortable. Morro hunched over slightly, and his shoulders pressed up to his chin. The shirt he'd thrown on was loose enough on his chest that it blew in the wind; thin, soft material billowed against his skin and made him far too conscious of the fact that the air around him was as nervous as he was. Of course it was. It was as in-tune with him as he was with it. And though it was far from an unwelcome feeling, it only served to further tense his body.

Would dying by Cole’s hand even be unpleasant? As Morro stared hard at Cole’s back, his eyes tracing every pronounced muscle beneath that black tank that he wore, he realized that he didn't quite care anymore if the death was unpleasant. Cole seemed like the type to consider it as putting him out of his misery. Maybe he could convince Cole to do it for him. Surely he wouldn't be brought back if one of the saviours of the world killed him.

---

They wound up at a dessert buffet that was far too cutesy for Morro’s taste, but it's not like he had much of a preference in the name of food. As soon as they crossed the threshold of the restaurant — after a catastrophic encounter with yet another bell on a door — a waitress was at their side. Her smile, not unlike the mall lady’s, was bright and uncanny. Morro stared at her for a long minute as she questioned Cole about seating and menu preferences.

“Why do you smile like that?” Morro blurted before he could think twice. “Its not very inviting, if that's what you're going for.”

Silence. Both the waitress and Cole stared at him for a beat, but before she could speak, Cole put his hand firmly on Morro’s shoulder. His fingers dug into the skin, and Morro bristled. Cole ignored his sharp glare in favour of laughing apologetically, his brow creased together tightly.

“Excuse my friend. He’s— well, got an old spirit,” Morro didn't laugh, or even snicker like Cole did, “doesn’t really understand how a lot of this stuff works.”

“Riight,” the waitress said slowly, though not unkindly. She perked up shortly afterwards and all-but dragged them to their seat to get rid of them.

As soon as they sat down, Cole dropped the facade and frowned at Morro. He’d deliberately aligned himself to face the main door, as if he expected someone to barge in just to attack him. Morro couldn't quite blame him, he'd done the same thing to the Ninja enough times. Regardless, he didn't like having his back to the door either. He had way too little trust in Cole to comfortably do such a thing.

“You can't go around asking people things like that,” Cole spoke quietly, just barely audible over the chatter around them. “Its rude.”

Morro scowled. “I don't care.”

“I know you don't, but I do. If you're going to get food with me, you need to be more polite.”

“ You dragged me out here!” Morro protested, disbelief sharp in his tone.

Cole went quiet, merely looking at Morro. He shifted in his seat and averted his gaze uncomfortably. He didn't realize that it would be rude, he was curious and a bit perturbed. Who cared, anyway? Its not like he was ever going to talk to the girl again, and she'd surely heard worse things from other customers. He picked at his cuticles and stubbornly avoided looking at Cole, even as he leaned over the table to say something else.

“Morro, is Ronin taking care of you?”

Morro’s head shot up to look at Cole, confusion etched in every wrinkle on his face. Why did Cole care how Ronin treated him? He shrugged uncomfortably and tried not to think too hard about the implications. Cole was probably just trying to be performative. After all, he had helped Cole during the Day of the Departed, and then Cole and Jay found him for the first time since.

“I guess so,” he said finally, after it was clear that Cole was looking for more of an answer. “He feeds me, gives me work sometimes. That's all he's really required to do.”

Cole hesitated, then sighed. Whatever he parted his lips to say was interrupted by the return of the waitress. She pointedly avoided looking at Morro, who felt as if he was going to melt into the floor if he was around her for a second longer. She held a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. The pen’s cap rested on the back of it, and the plastic was chewed nearly into shreds. It was unclear whether that was her doing, or if it was the fault of some kind of rat in the pen storage.

Morro ordered the first thing he saw on the menu, some kind of dessert drink that he didn't really care much about. Cole, contrary to their initial dinner together, wound up with multiple plates of food. The scent of so many different overly sweet treats mingled together in the air and Morro had to force his breathing to thin so that he didn't get overwhelmed. Cole, on the other hand, was in heaven.

“Are you really going to eat all of that?” Morro asked, not unkindly.

The corner of Cole’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Why? Do you want some?”

“God, no. All of that sugar will kill me.”

What he said must have been hilarious, because Cole laughed so hard that he nearly dropped his fork full of cake. Morro shrunk on himself a little and wondered what the hell was wrong with the Ninja. They worked as a team and clearly cared about one another, if his time in Lloyd’s body said anything; but yet, here Cole was. Lloyd and Kai hated every fibre of his being, Jay was scared of him, and Zane was nowhere in sight.

Here Cole was. Eating with him, laughing with him. Was it out of pity? Did he need information? Was he buttering Morro up so that he could kill him once and for all?

“Why are you doing this?”

Cole paused, fork in his mouth. He blinked at Morro for a couple of seconds before putting it down with a heavy sigh.

“Ever since coming back, you've had plenty of chances to seek more revenge on us. But.. you haven't done anything to hurt us—”

“I beat the shit out of Lloyd just the other day, pretty much,” Morro protested, brows knotted.

Cole raised one hand. “Let me continue. Since you obviously don't mean any harm to us, I think you could help us with our mission. You know Wu better than we do. You know where he might have gone.”

Morro’s blood turned to ice quicker than ever before. His breath caught in his throat and he was on his feet before he could even blink twice. His heart hammered in his chest. He was going to be sick. There was no escaping, was there? He could never get away from Wu, could never leave him behind. He was never going to know peace.

Cole wasn't done yet. He really should have been. “I know you hate him, I really do. I just think it could be good for you. Give you a purpose, something more to do than Ronin’s dirty work.”

“I’m not fucking helping you find Wu,” Morro choked out. He dug his nails into his palms. “You can't make me.”

Cole didn't seem surprised. He looked at Morro calmly, even as the air rustled and his napkin blew off of his table. “Okay. Okay. I'm not making you. It was just a suggestion, you don't have to help us.”

“Come and sit,” he continued, “finish your food. It'll make you feel better.”

Morro stared hard at him for a couple of heartbeats. But he was right. His stomach still felt empty, and it was still a decent amount of time until Ronin would even consider making dinner. Reluctantly, he slid back into his seat and pulled the drink closer to him. It tasted so much like chocolate that it clung to his tongue even after he swallowed, though it wasn't an unwelcome taste. It distracted him from the way his heart gunned.

Silence didn't last for long. Cole was speaking pretty much before Morro could breathe. Wryly, he considered mentioning something about it and how it must have been Jay rubbing off on him, but he kept his mouth shut in favour of chewing at the edge of his straw. Somehow, as if he were a teething puppy or something ridiculous like that, it soothed the sharp corners of his mind. He would have to snag another straw on his way out.

“Wu didn't treat you well, did he?” Cole was asking, the frown on his mouth tight and anxious.

Morro hesitated, and then shrugged. “He had no obligation to. He wasn't my dad.”

Whether or not Morro considered Wu his father when he was younger was left unquestioned and unanswered. It was obvious either way.

“You were a kid,” Cole argued softly. “Hell, you still are.”

“I’m eighteen.”

Cole paused. “You don't look eighteen. Whatever— my point is, when a kid comes to you with no other choice, you take care of them. You don't promise them greatness, make it their whole identity, and then act surprised when they're upset that it's not them. I… I know he made many mistakes with you.”

A few more than ‘many’.

“But he did a lot to avoid repeating history with us. He didn't tell us about the prophecy, or who he expected might be the Green Ninja. We found it by accident. He didn't say anything about his suspicions that Lloyd would be the one. He fed us, put clothes on our backs, trained us to fight well and smart and always be kind. I know none of this will fix what he did to you, but he's a changed man now.”

Morro scowled silently down at his cup. He didn't care. Cole could explain a hundred separate ways about how ‘Wu has changed’, but it didn't get rid of the agony that struck him like a vice every time the wretched name was even mentioned. It was a different kind of pain entirely, like nothing that he'd ever felt before. It was cold and empty and filled with tears and unfulfilled promises and an eternity of disappointment. It gripped him like hunger did, hollowed him out into a shell that shattered at the faintest of frowns.

He was never going to get over it. Nothing was ever going to change. He would never know peace; even with Wu gone, his spirit remained locked firmly in every single one of his Ninja. It was as if he lived in a hell of his making; a permanent, miserable trap. Wu must have found a way to spite him even in his absence.

“You don't know everything,” Morro muttered dryly, doing his best to shake off the cold that seeped into his bones. “You don't know what it was like.”

“No, I don't,” Cole agreed, “and that's why I'm sharing this with you. I'm sorry that he didn't treat you better. Nobody deserves that.”

Morro chose not to mention that he obviously did, that he'd somehow failed in some great capacity that was enough for even the Cloud Kingdom to look down upon him in butter distaste. Even if he couldn't pinpoint exactly what he'd done, it was a big enough deal for them to affect the rest of his future forever. So he clearly deserved it, if not something much worse.

---

Ronin sat at the kitchen table when Morro walked through the door. He barely looked up from where he was urgently scribbling something down onto a piece of paper, but he did raise his hand into the briefest wave Morro had ever seen. Beside him sat Dareth, leaning back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other and his arm draped across the back of Ronin’s chair.

His eyes lit up when he saw Morro. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, a goofy smile loose on his lips.

“Don’t call me that. I‘m eightteen.” Morro eyed the open, half-empty bottle on the table before him. He was drunk.

With a long sigh through his nose, Morro beelined straight for the staircase as normally as he could. There was no use sticking around, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with a drunk Dareth. Given how their first — and only — conversation went, he would be even more insufferable with alcohol muddling everything.

As he left, Dareth chuckled and nudged Ronin with two fingers. “He lets you call him that, but not me.”

Ronin didn't say anything, not even at the implications of his words. Morro bit back a grin at that. Despite their sour history, Ronin was about the only person that Morro could be around without getting annoyed at every word that came from his mouth. Maybe it was because there weren't many when he was around Morro, or maybe it was because he was too busy doing what little work he could manage whenever they were in the same space.

Whatever the case, Morro had far too much to think about and not nearly enough time to get it all done. He shut his bedroom door behind him and practically threw himself onto his bed, only to stare sullenly at the ceiling above him. His stomach rumbled the moment that he was horizontal. He should have ordered a bit more than a drink while he had the chance.

Almost as if his mind was read, dishes began clanging downstairs. Ronin was preparing dinner already.

Morro rolled over in his bed to look at the wall instead, and did his best to focus on anything but the warmth in his chest. Even as it chased away the cold in his bones and eased the distraught that Wu had left permanently in his mind. He would not acknowledge it, would not consider why it was there.

Notes:

morro cannot fucking escape the ninja they torment him every chapter someone save him

Notes:

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