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The monastery was unusually quiet that morning—the kind of quiet that didn’t just settle into the air, but pressed against it, heavy and strange. It wasn’t the peaceful sort of silence that came after meditation or late at night when everyone had gone to bed. This was different. This was the kind of quiet that made people fidget, made their shoulders tighten, made them glance toward each other as if they were all waiting for something to break it.
Usually, by the time the sun crept over the mountains and spilled golden light into the courtyard, Kai would already be out there. Either pacing in restless circles with his arms folded and his brow furrowed, muttering about “wasted daylight,” or going through a dizzying series of kicks and spins until sweat dripped from his hair and his breath came in short bursts. If not in the yard, he’d be in the kitchen, somehow making an unholy racket with pots and pans while insisting he “wasn’t even that loud.”
But today… nothing.
No clanging from the kitchen. No barked orders for people to hurry up. No familiar, impatient footsteps pacing the training yard.
Kai was still in bed.
And that in itself felt wrong.
Nya had been the first to notice. She’d gotten up early—out of habit, not because she wanted to—and on her way to grab a glass of water, she’d glanced into Kai’s room out of instinct. He’d been there, tangled in his blanket, one arm flung carelessly over his pillow, but not in the peaceful, relaxed way of someone sleeping in. His face had been pale except for the deep flush along his cheeks, his brows pinched faintly even in rest. His hair, normally a chaotic mess that somehow still looked intentional, was plastered unevenly to his forehead with sweat. The moment she’d stepped closer, he’d stirred, cracked his eyes open, and given her a half-hearted glare that didn’t last more than two seconds before his gaze went hazy again.
That image had been sitting in her head all morning like a weight she couldn’t shake.
Now, as the rest of the team gathered in the common room, the unease was spreading. Everyone was moving, technically—packing gear, checking weapons, adjusting armor straps—but their focus kept slipping. More than one set of eyes had drifted toward the hallway that led to Kai’s room, like they expected him to suddenly swagger in with some sarcastic comment about them taking too long.
But he didn’t.
The muted clatter of Jay testing the batteries in his gauntlets filled the silence for a moment, the faint click-click of the compartment cover snapping open and shut. He was kneeling beside his bag, tools laid out neatly in a way that only happened when he was trying to distract himself.
Nya stood near the doorway, arms folded tight across her chest. Her stance screamed impatience, but her eyes told a different story. They were narrowed, yes, but not in irritation—in worry. A deep, unsettled worry.
“Do we have to go?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting into the air sharper than she’d intended. It made both Cole and Lloyd glance up. “I mean—look at him. He’s never like this. Someone should stay.”
Jay froze with a battery half-inserted into his gauntlet, then sighed and pushed himself up to his feet. He walked over and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, the gesture softening the edge in his own voice. “Nya, I know you’re worried, but he’ll be fine. It’s just… you know, whatever bugs people get. Happens to the best of us.”
“That’s the thing,” Nya shot back, her arms tightening against herself. “We all get sick. You, Cole, Lloyd—” she glanced at Zane, “—even you’ve had weird… robot viruses or whatever. And Kai’s always the one taking care of us when we’re out of commission.” Her tone shifted on the last sentence, dropping lower, the worry bleeding into it fully now. “But I’ve never seen him sick. Not once. I don’t even know how to take care of him if it gets worse.”
Jay’s smirk faltered, just a touch. “Yeah… I get that. It’s weird.”
From where he was checking the straps on his sword sheath, Lloyd frowned, his gaze drifting toward the hall. “She’s right. It’s… unsettling. He looked like he could barely lift his head this morning.” His voice was quieter, almost reluctant, like saying it out loud made it more real.
Cole let out a slow breath from the couch. “I dunno, I’ve seen him tired before, but not like this. It’s like somebody hit pause on him.”
Before the conversation could spiral further, Wu’s voice cut through it. Calm, measured, but with that undertone of finality that meant the decision was already made.
“Since this mission cannot be delayed,” Wu said, hands clasped neatly behind his back, “we will proceed as planned.” His gaze swept across the room, lingering for only a moment on each person. “However—” He turned slightly, extending a hand toward the wall where Morro had been leaning with deliberate disinterest. “—Morro will remain behind and look after Kai.”
The air in the room shifted. Conversations halted. Heads turned.
Morro’s green eyes narrowed slightly, but not in the sharp, defensive way they used to when he was being challenged. This was more… irritation, like someone had just told him he’d been volunteered to scrub the floors.
“What?” he said, the word flat. “I’m not a nurse, Wu.”
“No,” Wu agreed evenly, “but you are here. And someone must stay. You are still on probation. This will be… another opportunity to prove you can be trusted with the well-being of others.”
Jay snorted faintly, unable to resist. “Translation: babysitting duty.”
“Shut up,” Morro muttered, though the bite in his voice was minimal. More out of habit than heat.
The truth was, he didn’t want to stay behind. Missions meant action—meant a chance to prove he could pull his weight, maybe even change the lingering way some of them looked at him. Staying here felt like being benched before the game even started. Still, arguing with Wu was a fast track to making himself look worse, and Morro had learned the hard way that sometimes swallowing his pride was the only strategic move.
“Fine,” he said finally, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’ll keep him from setting himself on fire in his sleep or whatever.”
Cole chuckled under his breath. “Good luck with that.”
Wu gave a small nod, as if that closed the matter entirely. “Then it is decided. We leave within the hour. Nya, you may check on your brother one last time before we depart.”
Nya’s brow creased deeper at that, her eyes flicking toward the hallway again. “One last time,” she echoed, almost like she didn’t like the sound of it, before turning on her heel and disappearing toward Kai’s room.
For a moment, no one spoke. Morro watched her go, expression carefully blank, but his thoughts lingered on the strange knot forming in his chest. Kai was… always moving. Always loud, always alive in a way that could be exhausting if you weren’t used to it. The idea of him lying still, pale, and silent—it didn’t quite fit.
When Nya returned, her steps slowed as she neared him. Her eyes found his instantly, sharp and assessing. There was no warmth there—not yet. She’d been one of the most vocal about her distrust when he returned, and that wariness hadn’t faded much over time. But now, layered beneath it, there was something else: reluctant reliance.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “Please… take good care of him.” The words came out clipped, like she didn’t quite like having to say them, but she meant them all the same. “He never gets sick. I don’t even know how to handle it if it gets worse.”
Morro held her gaze, matching her seriousness. For once, no smirk tugged at his mouth, no sarcastic quip rose to his tongue. “I got him, Nya.”
Her jaw eased, barely, but enough for him to notice. “Good.”
One by one, the others gave him their own silent signals—some subtle, some not. Jay’s smirk from earlier was gone; he gave a short nod before slinging his bag over his shoulder. Cole’s eyes lingered just a little longer than usual, like he was silently warning him not to mess this up. Lloyd’s expression was unreadable, but his glance said enough.
Wu was the last to leave, fastening his coat with deliberate care. “You have the monastery to yourselves,” he said, his voice shifting into the tone that left no room for interpretation. “Keep things in order.”
The sound of boots against the wooden floor, the muted thud of doors closing, and then—silence.
The heavy kind.
Morro let out a slow breath and started toward the hallway. His footsteps felt louder than they should have in the empty space. When he reached Kai’s door, he rapped his knuckles lightly against the wood.
A muffled shuffle came from inside, followed by a hoarse, congested voice. “Who is it…?”
“It’s me. Morro.” He leaned his shoulder against the frame, letting his tone fall into that deliberately casual register he used when he didn’t want concern to sound like… concern. “Open up, Kai. Apparently, I’m your personal caretaker today.”
He half-expected resistance—some sarcastic jab about how he’d rather be left alone to rot than be looked after by him. Instead, there was the soft creak of hinges, and the door eased open.
Kai stood there, wrapped tightly in a blanket like it was the only thing holding him upright. His eyes, usually sharp and restless, were dulled and hazy, rimmed with exhaustion. His cheeks were flushed—not the healthy red of training or anger, but the heat of fever.
Morro blinked, caught momentarily off guard. “Wow,” he said before he could stop himself. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Kai rasped, voice sandpaper-rough. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
Up close, Morro noticed details he normally wouldn’t. How Kai’s hair, usually spiked with messy confidence, now clung in limp, uneven strands to his forehead. How his nose was red and chapped from—probably—constant rubbing. How his frame, lean even on his best days, seemed smaller like this, the blanket swallowing his shoulders. He remembered overhearing Kai once joke—half-bitter, half-proud—about training harder than anyone else and still not bulking up like Cole or even Lloyd.
Right now, he didn’t look like a fighter. He looked… fragile.
“You gonna just stand there staring at me,” Kai muttered, sniffling, “or are you gonna let me go back to bed?”
Morro smirked faintly, masking the flicker of something else twisting in his chest. “Bed. Definitely bed. You’re even less fun to look at like this.”
Kai gave him a tired glare that lacked its usual spark. “You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to punch you right now.”
“Guess I picked the perfect day to be stuck here with you,” Morro shot back, stepping aside so Kai could shuffle toward the bed, the blanket trailing against the floor.
He followed him in, closing the door behind them with a soft click.
****
Kai trudged toward the bed, dragging his feet in slow, uneven steps, as if each one took a little more effort than he had left to give. The blanket cocooned around his shoulders swayed faintly with his movement, its hem brushing the floor in lazy arcs. His posture was slouched, chin tucked down, eyes half-lidded—not the deliberate, intimidating kind of slouch Kai carried into a fight, but the sort that came when your body just didn’t have the strength to hold itself upright anymore.
Morro followed a pace behind, his own steps quiet, almost reluctant. It wasn’t often he got to see Kai slowed down. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it like this—no fire in his stride, no restless bounce in his weight, no sharp angles in his shoulders. Just… worn down. It was strange, unsettling in a way he didn’t care to name.
When Kai finally lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, the springs gave a soft, complaining creak under his weight. He sat there for a moment, still hunched forward, before lifting one hand to scrub at his face. The motion looked clumsy, unfocused—fingers dragging over his eyes and then down to pinch the bridge of his nose. A muffled cough escaped him, low and rough, rumbling deep in his chest before he tried to swallow it back down.
“You sound awful,” Morro said without ceremony.
Kai’s head tilted just enough to shoot him a flat, unimpressed look from behind the folds of the blanket. His voice, when it came, was hoarse but still edged with sarcasm. “You’re full of compliments today.”
“I’m just being honest.” Morro moved toward the side table by instinct, scanning its cluttered surface. “Do you even have water in here?”
Kai hesitated a beat too long. “…I… forgot.”
Morro turned halfway toward him, eyebrows lifting. “Forgot? What, were you planning to just sit here and dehydrate? Let the fever do all the work for you?”
Kai’s answer was a muttered, indecipherable grumble, his face half-hidden in the blanket. Whatever he said, it wasn’t convincing.
Morro blew out a sigh, shaking his head. “Alright. Stay put. If you move, I’ll…” He paused deliberately, letting his voice drop into a mock-threatening tone. “…I dunno, tell everyone you passed out trying to stand up.”
One corner of Kai’s mouth twitched upward into something that was almost a smile. “Threats already? You’re slipping.”
Morro ignored the jab, snatching the empty glass from the nightstand. “You’ll thank me later,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out into the small kitchenette just outside the room. The tap squeaked faintly as he turned it on, the sound of running water filling the otherwise still hallway. The glass grew pleasantly cool in his hand, condensation already beginning to bead along the outside by the time he shut the tap off.
When he returned, Kai had slumped sideways, half-lying on the bed with his head propped lazily on one hand, his eyes hooded and unfocused. He blinked slowly at the sight of Morro, like it took more effort than it should just to process his return.
“Hey. Sit up,” Morro said, setting the glass down within Kai’s reach.
A groan rumbled from Kai’s chest, but he pushed himself upright anyway, the movement stiff and sluggish. He took the water without meeting Morro’s eyes, murmuring, “Thanks,” in a voice softer and less guarded than before.
Morro leaned against the wall, crossing his arms loosely. “You’re really not used to this, are you?”
Kai paused mid-sip. “…What?”
“Being the one who’s taken care of.” Morro tipped his chin slightly toward him. “You usually do the fussing over everyone else. Now you just look… lost.”
Kai’s gaze dropped to the glass in his hands. He swirled the water absentmindedly, watching the tiny ripples catch the light. “I guess I’m not great at sitting still.”
“That’s an understatement,” Morro said, his voice dry but without bite.
For a moment, the only sound was the soft, rhythmic sip of water, the faint hum of the monastery’s old heater kicking on somewhere in the background. Morro let his eyes roam over Kai again, cataloging details he’d already noticed but couldn’t quite stop from checking again: the mess of hair that had lost all its usual purposeful chaos, the heat in his cheeks that had nothing to do with temper, the pale cast to his skin everywhere else. The restlessness that was usually so integral to Kai seemed to have been stripped away, leaving someone slower, quieter—someone who wasn’t entirely comfortable being seen like this.
“You should lie down,” Morro said finally. “Before you pass out sitting up.”
“I’m fine—” Kai started, but the denial was weak, half-hearted.
“You’re not.” Morro pushed off the wall and crossed the small space between them in two strides. He set one hand lightly but firmly on Kai’s shoulder and gave a steady, guiding push backward—not enough to shove, but enough to make his point. “Don’t make me wrestle you into bed, because I will.”
Kai’s lips curved faintly, the ghost of his usual defiance peeking through. “You’re bossy when you get the chance.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts.”
With a resigned sigh, Kai sank back against the pillows, his blanket bunched up around his shoulders like a shield. His voice was already drifting toward drowsy when he muttered, “You’re still annoying.”
“Good,” Morro said as he tugged the blanket up to cover him more fully. “Means you’re not that sick.”
Kai sneezed suddenly—once, twice, three times in rapid succession—his face disappearing into the folds of the blanket. The sound was muffled, but it still made Morro wince in sympathy.
“You’re gonna sneeze your head off if you keep that up,” Morro remarked, but Kai just sniffled in reply, burrowing deeper into the warmth like a stubborn kid who’d decided to fight off bedtime. His eyes were glassy, his posture slack, but his grip on the blanket was still stubbornly tight.
Morro turned toward the small container Zane had left on the counter earlier, curiosity pulling his attention. He popped the lid and a gentle wave of steam rose up, carrying the savory scent of broth. “Alright,” he said, glancing back at Kai. “Zane made soup before he left. It’s your lucky day—you’re not stuck with my cooking.”
Kai’s head tilted up weakly, his interest barely sparking through the exhaustion. “…What kind?”
“Hot,” Morro replied without missing a beat. “That’s all you need to know.”
He rummaged in the kitchenette drawer for a spoon, the metal clinking softly against its neighbors, then returned to Kai’s side with the steaming bowl in one hand and the utensil in the other. “Here. Drink all of this.”
Kai didn’t argue. He didn’t roll his eyes, didn’t sigh dramatically—just took the spoon with a small nod, cradling the bowl in both hands. The steam curled up toward his flushed face as he began taking slow, deliberate sips.
Morro blinked, momentarily thrown. He had been bracing himself for the usual resistance—the sarcastic remark about not being a baby, the stubborn insistence that he didn’t need help, maybe even a deliberate attempt to spill it just to make a point. That was how sick people usually got, in his experience. Cole became a loud, grumbling mess. Jay turned into a whirlwind of complaints. Even Lloyd, disciplined as he was, would groan about the taste of medicine.
But Kai? Kai just… sat there. Quiet. Obedient. Still.
Huh.
By the time Morro realized how long he’d been standing there, Kai’s voice broke the silence. “Morro? I’m done.”
Morro looked down at the empty bowl Kai was holding out, his hand steady despite the obvious fatigue in his eyes. He took it without a word, setting it aside on the table, and glanced back just in time to see Kai sinking deeper into the pillows, the blanket rising high around his shoulders.
It was then that Morro noticed it—the faint sheen across Kai’s temple, the damp patches clinging to the fabric near his neck and chest. Sweat. Fever sweat.
Morro let out a slow breath through his nose. “You’re not gonna get better wrapped up in that,” he said flatly, nodding toward the damp blanket.
Kai blinked down at himself like he’d only just realized it was wet.
“Go throw that in the wash,” Morro said, already turning toward his own room. “I’ll grab you another one.”
There was a brief pause, and Morro could practically feel the surprise radiating off Kai at being given an order. Still, he didn’t hear any protest. The blanket rustled as Kai slowly unwrapped himself from it, the sound almost exaggerated in the otherwise quiet room. He padded toward the laundry room with sluggish steps, bare feet whispering against the wooden floor.
Morro stepped into his own room, yanked the spare blanket off his bed, and returned to the hall just in time to see Kai coming back. His hands were empty now, and his hair looked even more mussed than before, one section sticking up at an odd angle. Morro held out the blanket wordlessly.
Kai took it without hesitation, immediately cocooning himself again before sinking back into the bed. The fabric dwarfed him, swallowing his frame until only his head and a bit of tousled hair were visible.
“Alright,” Morro said, moving toward the counter where a small bottle and a glass of water waited. “Medicine time.”
Kai accepted both without so much as a groan. He swallowed the pills, chased them with the water, and set the glass back on the table.
No grimace. No “this tastes terrible.” No half-sarcastic complaint about how he didn’t need it.
Just… silence.
Morro stared at him for a moment, leaning back slightly as if trying to make sense of the sight. “Okay, what’s going on?”
Kai lifted his head just enough to glance over, his eyelids heavy. “What?”
“You’re—” Morro gestured loosely in his direction. “You’re quiet. You’re… compliant.”
Kai’s brow knit faintly, like the words didn’t quite connect. “I’m tired.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t you,” Morro said, settling into the chair beside the bed, still watching him. “Normally you’d argue with me just for breathing near you.”
Kai didn’t answer. His eyes drifted shut again, the blanket pulling tighter around him.
Morro stayed there for a long moment, arms folded, baffled. Why the hell is Kai being this quiet?
****
Morro left Kai’s room only when he was absolutely sure the fire ninja had settled under the blanket again. Even then, he lingered for a second in the doorway, watching the slow, uneven rise and fall of Kai’s chest beneath the layers of fabric. The air in there felt dense—thick with heat from the fever and the faint scent of sweat clinging to the blankets.
He could practically feel the heaviness pressing against his lungs, like breathing in warm fog. It was the sort of heat that made you restless, made the skin on the back of your neck feel sticky.
Out in the open space of the living room, the air felt lighter, cooler. Morro rolled his shoulders back and exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time he was in there.
The monastery was quiet in that particular way old buildings got—never truly silent, but filled with the occasional groan of wood beams shifting, the faint hum from the heating system, the whisper of a breeze against the outer walls.
He let himself sink down onto the couch, stretching his legs out until his feet nearly touched the far armrest. His body melted into the cushions like it hadn’t realized how tense it had been. For the first time since morning, he allowed his shoulders to truly drop.
Reaching for the remote, he flicked the TV on without much thought. The screen came to life in flickering blues and grays, painting soft shadows across the walls. He wasn’t really watching—his eyes tracked shapes without catching the plot, the voices on the screen merging into a kind of meaningless background hum.
It was almost enough to make him forget about the fevered ninja in the other room. Almost.
That was when he heard it—faint at first, but unmistakable once you noticed. The sound of footsteps on the old wooden floorboards. Not quick, confident steps, but soft ones, dragging just slightly, as if each one took effort.
Morro twisted halfway around on the couch, one eyebrow already raising in suspicion.
Kai stood there in the hallway, moving toward him. Or more accurately, shuffling toward him. He was completely engulfed in Morro’s own blanket, the fabric trailing slightly on the floor behind him like a cape that had been thrown through a dryer one too many times. His hair stuck up in wild angles, evidence of both fever-sleep and general Kai-ness. His cheeks were flushed a deep, unhealthy pink, and his eyes—half-lidded and glassy—had the unfocused look of someone running on fumes.
The blanket was tucked tight under his chin, only the tips of his fingers visible where they clutched the edges.
“You… left me,” Kai said, his voice low but carrying all the weight of an accusation.
Morro blinked at him, caught completely off guard. Of all the things he expected—a sarcastic comment, a muttered complaint about being treated like a patient—this… wasn’t it.
“I—” Morro straightened instinctively, like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I thought you were asleep.”
Kai stopped in front of the couch, still clutching the blanket. His lower lip trembled just slightly—not in a dramatic way, but in that subtle, involuntary way that betrayed exhaustion. His voice wavered when he spoke again.
“So you would’ve left me while I was sleeping?”
The question landed heavier than Morro expected, the unspoken “like everyone else” tucked somewhere in the space between words. His throat felt a little tight.
Before he could find an answer, Kai moved. He didn’t ask permission—he just lowered himself onto the couch beside Morro, letting the blanket fall wide enough to cover them both. Then, without hesitation, he curled sideways, pressing into Morro’s side like this was simply how things were supposed to be.
“You don’t get to leave me,” Kai murmured. His voice was muffled—not just by the blanket, but by the fact that he was now close enough for Morro to feel each word against his ribs.
Morro froze, his spine going stiff. “…Kai? You realize I’m me, right? Morro?”
“Yeah.” The answer came instantly, quietly, as if the question itself was silly.
Kai’s hand emerged from the cocoon of blanket and tugged at Morro’s arm until it wrapped loosely around him. Like it belonged there. Like there was never a question it wouldn’t be there.
Morro’s breath hitched. “You—what are you doing—”
“Getting comfortable.” Kai’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes already drifting shut. His head found a resting place against Morro’s shoulder, the heat from his fever seeping through fabric until Morro could feel it on his skin.
Every inhale Kai took pressed faintly against him. The weight of him was warm, grounding, and deeply unsettling for reasons Morro did not want to examine.
Then Kai’s hand—restless even in sleep—shifted, coming to rest lightly against Morro’s chest. It was almost testing, like he wanted to feel the rhythm of breathing under his palm.
Morro’s ears burned hot. Thank the First Spinjitzu Master Kai’s eyes were closed, because there was no way he’d survive being caught blushing.
Kai’s breathing evened out in slow, deep cycles. Within minutes, his body had gone heavy against Morro’s side—the complete, boneless weight of someone who had slipped into true sleep.
Morro didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Not because Kai’s grip pinned him there, but because… maybe he didn’t want to.
****
It was hard to tell how long they sat like that. The TV murmured on, casting a faint glow over them, but Morro’s attention was entirely on the steady pull and push of Kai’s breath.
Eventually, Kai stirred. It wasn’t dramatic—just a soft shift, a quiet groan as he uncurled himself and sat up. His arms stretched above his head, fingers spreading wide, his spine arching until a faint pop cracked from somewhere in his back.
Morro kept his eyes on the TV out of habit, but his gaze betrayed him, flicking sideways despite himself. He caught every lazy motion, the way Kai’s hair flopped forward, the small wince when his muscles loosened, the slightly dazed look in his half-lidded eyes.
“You didn’t leave,” Kai said suddenly, catching Morro mid-stare. A slow, faint smile tugged at his lips as his arms dropped back down.
“No,” Morro said simply. The word came out softer than he meant, and his throat felt tight again for no clear reason.
Kai’s smile deepened. Instead of retreating to his side of the couch, he shifted back into place, curling up against Morro’s side as though there had been no interruption at all. Morro kept his face carefully neutral, but he felt something in his chest loosen.
“Hmm,” Kai hummed in quiet satisfaction. Then he frowned, a slight downward pull of his mouth, like he was evaluating something and finding it lacking.
Before Morro could ask, Kai moved.
Without warning, the fire ninja clambered onto his lap. One moment Morro’s hands were idle at his sides; the next, Kai was folding himself into him, face pressed into the crook of his neck.
“Kai—!” Morro’s voice cracked halfway to a yelp. His muscles went rigid, his hands hovering uncertainly like they were caught between pushing him off and holding him closer.
Kai’s breath was hot against the sensitive skin of Morro’s neck when he mumbled, “You’re warm.”
The words sent a shiver down Morro’s spine so sharp it startled him. He swallowed hard, voice low when he managed to speak. “…Kai, what are you doing to me?”
Kai didn’t respond—if he even heard him at all. His focus was entirely on soaking up warmth.
“I need to warm up what Zane made,” Morro tried, his tone somewhere between pleading and exasperated as he attempted to gently nudge Kai away.
Kai let out a dramatic, muffled whine. “Nooo. Take me with you.”
Morro closed his eyes briefly, muttering under his breath, “You’re ridiculous.” But there was no bite to it.
Finally, he gave in. Hooking one arm under Kai’s thighs and the other around his back, Morro stood. Kai immediately tightened his hold, his legs wrapping around Morro’s waist, his arms looped loosely but securely around Morro’s neck. His head dropped onto Morro’s shoulder, heavy and warm, the position instinctive and unselfconscious.
Carrying him into the kitchen was awkward but manageable. The microwave door clicked open, and Morro set a bowl of Zane’s noodles inside, offering a silent prayer that the ice ninja had made enough for two. He was starving.
The hum of the microwave filled the small space. Kai hummed his own aimless tune in counterpoint, sounding far too pleased for someone who’d been feverish an hour ago.
Glancing at the clock, Morro made a mental note: Kai needed another round of medicine soon.
“Morro?”
“Yes, Kai?” he answered, glancing down at the mop of messy hair resting on his shoulder.
There was a pause—long enough to make Morro think maybe Kai had drifted off again.
“…Are you going to leave me?”
Morro’s brows drew together instantly. “What? No. I won’t.”
“Are you sure?” Kai’s voice was small now, stripped of its usual confident edges.
“Yes. Why would you even think I’d leave you?”
Kai’s answer was soft, shaky. “My parents left me.”
Morro froze. He’d known that. Everyone did. But hearing Kai say it now, in that voice, hit different.
“They…” Kai swallowed, his voice cracking. “They left me a note. Said I was too much of a problem child.”
“Kai…” Morro’s throat felt thick. He chose his words with precision, each one like he was trying to hammer it into the walls of Kai’s mind. “They were wrong. You weren’t a problem. You were a child. They were the ones who failed, not you. That’s on them—not you. You’re… perfect the way you are.”
Kai’s grip tightened fractionally. “…Really?”
“Really,” Morro said firmly.
Silence settled for a moment, heavy but not suffocating. The microwave beeped, but Morro didn’t move to get the food.
Then Kai’s voice dropped to something even softer—almost like he didn’t want to be heard.
“I love you.”
And Morro’s heart stopped cold.
****
When it was finally time to sleep, Kai refused to let go of Morro. It was like he had fused himself to him—arms locked tightly around Morro’s neck, legs hooked securely around his waist. Every time Morro shifted, Kai only clung tighter, as if loosening even slightly would make him vanish into the ether. The warmth of Kai pressed against him, soft but insistent, a weight both physical and emotional that Morro had never expected to feel so intensely.
“Kai…” Morro grunted, trying to pry at his hands gently. “You’ve got to let go. You’re going to crush me.”
“Nope,” Kai mumbled, pressing his face more firmly into Morro’s neck. His voice was muffled and warm, sending a shiver down Morro’s spine. “You’re comfy. And warm. And mine right now.”
Morro rolled his eyes, though the tips of his ears burned bright with heat he’d rather not admit to. “Kai, I can’t carry you around all night like this. I’m not a backpack, okay? Just… get on the bed. I’ll be right back.”
“Noooo,” Kai whined dramatically, tightening his legs around Morro’s waist like a vice. “I don’t wanna.”
Morro exhaled sharply, keeping his voice calm even though the fire ninja’s grip was making it impossible to move freely. “I need to get your medicine. It’s in the kitchen. I’ll be gone for maybe thirty seconds, tops.”
Kai shook his head stubbornly, pressing even closer. “Don’t care. Stay here.”
Morro’s patience began to fray, though he tried to mask it under a softer, pleading tone. “…Kai. I need to use the restroom.”
That made Kai pause. He leaned back just enough to give Morro a slightly guilty, sheepish look. “…Oh.” Slowly, and with obvious reluctance, he loosened his hold, letting Morro lower him onto the bed.
“There. That wasn’t so hard,” Morro muttered, straightening his shirt as Kai sat in the middle of the mattress. He was still wrapped in Morro’s blanket like a burrito, his messy hair sticking up in wild tufts. His pout made it clear that he wasn’t happy about being separated, his small lips jutting outward in defiance.
Morro pointed a finger at him. “Stay. I’ll be back in less than a minute.”
Kai’s pout deepened. “…Promise?”
“Yes, I promise,” Morro said, trying not to sound too amused, though a tug of a smile played at the corner of his lips.
He hurried out of the room, nearly tripping over the rug in his rush. His bladder was threatening mutiny, and the thought of Kai’s wide, pitiful eyes not knowing if he’d return pushed him forward. After quickly attending to his own needs, he swung by the kitchen to grab Kai’s next dose of medicine, tucking it carefully into his palm.
When he returned, Kai was sitting exactly where he’d left him—cross-legged in the middle of the bed, cocooned tightly in the blanket. His hair flopped in chaotic angles, and his flushed cheeks gave him a fragile, almost ethereal appearance. Morro’s chest tightened involuntarily. The sight of him, small and vulnerable, tugged at a protective chord deep inside.
The moment Kai spotted him, his expression lit up instantly. “Morrooo!” His smile was immediate, pure and unguarded, and Morro felt his chest tighten painfully at the sight.
“You’re acting like I was gone for hours,” Morro said, though his voice came out quieter than intended. He sat down beside Kai, holding out the pill. “Here. Take this.”
Kai accepted it without fuss, swallowing obediently. Morro blinked in surprise. “Huh. You’re… not even complaining. Should I be worried?”
Kai tilted his head slightly, eyes wide with a curious expression that made Morro’s heart stutter. Morro hesitated, then, unable to hold it back, asked the question that had been gnawing at him since earlier.
“What did you mean,” he began slowly, voice careful, “when you said you loved me?”
Kai blinked, and then a small, almost shy smile curved his lips. He leaned in slightly, still wrapped in the blanket. “I… admire you,” he said softly, voice low but unwavering. “You’re trying to change… and you are changing. That’s not easy. But you keep going, even when people doubt you.”
Morro’s chest tightened at the sincerity in Kai’s words. He felt the weight of them press against him, almost physically, as if the fire ninja’s admiration was something he could wrap around himself.
Kai shifted closer, letting his head rest lightly against Morro’s chest. His hands flattened over Morro’s torso, grounding himself, anchoring the honesty he was sharing. “I think you’ve already changed a lot,” he continued. “No matter what the others say, I see it. I notice it. It… makes my heart flutter, how much you try, and how much you prove yourself. Even though we argue all the time, I like seeing that you’re still… human inside. And… I like seeing how much you care, underneath everything. Even when you’re stubborn or annoying, I—”
He paused, eyes dropping shyly, but the truth lingered heavy in the air. Morro swallowed hard, unsure if he’d ever been observed with such intimacy before. He wanted to respond, to tell Kai that he felt the same, that his admiration and… other feelings weren’t one-sided, but words failed him.
Before he could speak, Kai had closed his eyes, curling slightly more against him. The warmth and gentle weight pressed against Morro’s chest like a living heartbeat, coaxing something unfamiliar out of him.
“…Of course,” Morro muttered quietly, letting out a long, shaky breath. Carefully, he shifted, laying Kai down properly on the bed, then stretching out beside him. The warmth pressed against his side immediately, a tangible tether he hadn’t realized he craved until now.
And without meaning to, Morro let himself relax.
For the first time since he had returned, since he’d been resurrected, Morro slept. Truly slept. No tossing, no shadowy memories clawing at the edges of consciousness. Only quiet. Only warmth. Only Kai pressed softly against him, steady and alive.
*****
Morning came in muted light, filtered through the thin curtains. Morro stirred, confused for a moment at the unfamiliar sense of calm, of rest. His eyes finally dropped to the source of that warmth.
Kai.
The fire ninja was curled in his arms, breathing evenly, hair sticking up in wild tufts, face serene. Morro’s lips twitched into a faint smile as he exhaled slowly, letting the clarity wash over him.
Of course. That explained it.
It wasn’t the bed. It wasn’t the blanket. It wasn’t even sleep itself.
It was sleeping with Kai.
Morro tightened his arms around him, pressing his chin against Kai’s head and letting himself just… exist in that closeness. The warmth radiating from him seeped into Morro, soothing and strange all at once.
Kai shifted faintly, murmuring in his sleep, pressing closer like he sensed the protection without needing to wake.
“Guess he’s a cuddler,” Morro murmured softly, chest vibrating with the low hum of his voice. The memory of the previous night—Kai’s hesitant confession, his trembling words—coiled warmly in his chest. Even after everything… Kai had loved him. And Morro wasn’t about to let go of that.
Slowly, Kai’s eyes fluttered open. Amber eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked up at him.
“Morro?” His voice was husky, rough from sleep but soft, hesitant.
Morro hummed, not loosening his hold just yet. He watched Kai stretch, back arching like a cat, a yawn escaping that was too cute to ignore.
“What happened—” Kai froze mid-sentence, recognition flashing, then the blush hit, deep and sudden.
“I–I’m sorry for con— for burdening you with taking care of me,” Kai stammered, cheeks heating with embarrassment.
Morro smirked, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched Kai flounder. “Burdening me? I’d say you were trying to weld yourself to me. And honestly? I don’t mind.”
Kai started to scoot off the bed, muttering, “I’m going to go—”
But Morro caught his wrist, tugging him back into his lap. Kai gasped, startled.
“I–I should go—” he stammered.
“Why?” Morro leaned in slightly, voice low with amusement. “You loved sitting here yesterday. You practically welded yourself to me and wouldn’t even let me breathe.”
Kai’s blush deepened to near crimson. He looked away, lips pressed together, clearly mortified.
Morro’s expression softened, voice gentle and sincere. “Did you mean it? What you said—about admiring me? About loving me?”
Kai froze. Then, after a long pause, he lifted his hands to hide his face and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Morro chuckled softly, reaching up to gently pry Kai’s hands away. “Don’t hide.”
Kai met his eyes reluctantly, heart pounding. Without overthinking, he leaned forward, pressing a small, tentative kiss to Morro’s lips.
Morro’s mind short-circuited. He went rigid, breath caught—long enough for Kai to pull back, panic flaring in his eyes.
Kai made a move to bolt, but Morro reacted instantly, holding him in place, pinning him gently but firmly against the mattress.
Kai gasped, trapped beneath him.
“Don’t run,” Morro murmured softly, brushing strands of hair from Kai’s forehead. His touch was gentle, careful.
Kai swallowed hard, words failing him under Morro’s intense gaze.
Then Morro leaned down and kissed him again.
Kai’s breath hitched but melted into it, returning the kiss with shy eagerness that made Morro’s chest tighten painfully.
When they finally broke apart, Morro smirked faintly. “Guess you’re not sick anymore.”
Kai blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.
“I took good care of you, you know,” Morro added, low, before leaning in again.
This time, his free hand cupped Kai’s jaw, tilting his head gently, deepening the kiss. His other hand caught both of Kai’s wrists, pinning them above his head. The kiss grew more insistent, Morro taking the lead naturally, until he finally pulled back just enough to let them breathe.
Kai lay beneath him, lips parted, amber eyes wide and soft. Morro dipped his head again—about to kiss him once more—when suddenly:
“WHAT THE HECK—?!”
Both jolted upright, spinning toward the doorway.
Lloyd stood frozen mid-step, eyes wide, mouth agape.
And behind him… the entire team.
Nya’s gaze zeroed in immediately, her expression darkening. “Morro! Are you harassing my brother!?” She stormed in, fists clenched.
“I can’t believe this,” Cole muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jay looked like he might combust on the spot. “Is—Is this— Is this what you’ve been doing the entire time we left?!” His voice cracked halfway.
Kai’s face turned tomato-red. “Nya—that’s not—It’s not—” He tried to cover his face, but Morro’s grip prevented it.
Morro, calm as ever, simply smirked at the team. Then, for good measure, he glanced down at Kai and kissed him again—right in front of everyone.
Lloyd made a strangled noise. Jay looked like he might faint. Cole and Zane exchanged unreadable glances.
Nya’s fury hit boiling point. She strode forward, yanking Morro off Kai with force enough to nearly knock him off balance.
She turned to Kai. “Come with me.”
Kai scrambled up, dragging the blanket with him like a shield. His blush hadn’t faded at all, and he bolted to his room, slamming and locking the door.
Nya leveled Morro with a glare that could have frozen lava. “We’re going to talk later.”
Morro only shrugged, leaning casually back on his elbows. “Looking forward to it.”