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If there's anything Cole hates about Yang's temple, it's the creaking. He supposes such a thing could be expected from such an old, ghostly building, but it never ceases to keep him on edge. He doesn't like sharp sounds—they remind him of the floorboards in his childhood home, the ones that creaked under his father's footsteps when he made his way to Cole's bedroom. The Bounty isn't much better, but there, he feels safe. Yang's temple feels more like a prison.
He's alone, his left wrist chained to an exposed pipe in the wall. He sits on the floor, his back to the wall, and tries not to feel despondent about his surroundings and their role in his future. Master of the House, he thinks. A spirit left to wander the halls of the floating temple until the end of time. He tries to consider this future, but his imagination simply will not allow it. Your friends will rescue you, he tells himself. This isn't going to happen.
His friends are busy, so busy, and they can never seem to even remember him on a good day. Most people disappear into the backdrop of history, so perhaps this fear of isolation is unfounded. But as a ninja, he'd felt like he mattered for the first time in his life. He felt as though he held a substantial role in the ever-evolving fate of the universe.
He pulls on the chain. It doesn't budge. On the cold, wooden floor, he becomes acutely aware of how naïve his thinking has been. If his friend's don't even notice him, why would the world care, either?
At least his friendships withered away, like the petals of a dying rose. His imprisonment here just feels like a cold slap to the face. You will live forever, it tells him, but no one will remember your name.
"I told Wu," comes a voice to his left.
Cole whips his head to face someone he never thought he would see again: Morro, the only other ghost to ever wreak such misery on his life. He grinds his teeth.
"You came back, too?"
"Not by choice," Morro replies. He gets close, but not too close, and sits on the floor. Cole leans his head back and tries not to scream out of frustration. Yang will be back soon, and this is not how he wanted to spend his last moments of relative freedom. "Don't be too mad—your friends will be here soon."
Cole can't help what he says. "Will they? I'm starting to have some serious doubts."
Morro's head tilts to the side, like he's confused. "What? Why wouldn't they?"
"Am I really going to have this conversation with you?"
"I was just passing on the message," Morro says. He floats to his feet. "I can go. Maybe the green ninja won't kill me on first sight if I visit him."
Cole gives a single laugh. "He will."
Morro crosses his legs and floats back down to the floor. "Ugh. Nobody wants to see me. Even Wu tried to fight me at first sight! At least you can't do anything about it."
"This is wonderful. It's exactly how I imagined my life ending. Thank you."
"Hey, it's not ending. It's just being extended indefinitely." Morro shrugs. "Being a ghost sucks. But it's even worse when you're alone."
"What, you didn't have friends in the Cursed Realm?"
"You can't be in the Cursed Realm and be a good person. They're mutually exclusive." Morro counts on his fingers. "I have six friends. I hate all of them. It's like, 'Shut up, I don't care if you killed people or lied on your income tax forms for twenty years. We've all done bad things'. It really sucks up there."
"I kind of imagined that it would."
"It's better than being alone in a temple for the rest of my life."
"Wow."
"Your friends will remember you. They've got pictures and all that junk." Morro flicks his wrist in a dismissive gesture. "I wouldn't worry about it. They'll come get you."
Cole's head is filled with static. He supposes that it doesn't like accepting comfort from someone it sees as a threat to his safety. "Yeah. I guess they will."
"I think Wu forgot about me," Morro says. He rests his chin on his palm. "I mean, come on. I died in a cave. He could've found me, but he didn't. Maybe he just didn't care. Is that what you're worried about?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, are you worried about your friends forgetting about you, or that they just don't care enough to remember?"
Cole sucks in a deep breath. "I'm not sure."
"That sucks, doesn't it? You can ask someone if they care, and they'll always say yes, but they could be lying. And you'll never know, will you?"
Cole runs his free hand through his hair. "I—" he starts to agree, but he stops himself. He stops because he realizes that he doesn't agree. He stops because he knows it's untrue.
He remembers when he first became a ghost. It was a vulnerable time, when it seemed like everything could kill him and he would never be able to feel again. He was low, like he is now. But he wasn't alone. His friends went out of their way to help him adjust, and with their aid, he overcame his anxieties surrounding his new state and became grounded in the world again.
"I think people do care," Cole finally replies. "I think my friends care. They just forget sometimes."
Morro stands up. "Great! I can leave, now."
Cole blinks in confusion. "What?"
"I want to go find my body. Morbid curiosity, I know, but I won't be around this realm for much longer."
"What?"
Morro strides to the front door of the temple. He opens the door. "Listen. Can you hear that?"
Cole closes his eyes and concentrates. In the distance, barely a decibel louder than the wind, he can hear the sound of yelling voices. Familiar yelling voices.
His eyes snap open. "They're coming to get me."
"See? I told you so." Morro in front of the door frame. He looks over his shoulder and smiles. "Now, come on: do you really mean to tell me that after everything you've been through, you're going to let a single handcuff stop you?"
Morro steps through the door. A gust of wind slams it shut.
Cole looks down to his right wrist. He gives the chain another tug.
Yeah, he thinks. This is feasible.