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Sometimes Zane misses his old body.
Yes, of course the titanium is an upgrade. It’s more durable, more resistant to wear and tear. It’s something the Nindroid made himself, so it’s imbued with a sense of pride that his old form simply was not.
However, the titanium body has always lacked some key features, being the culmination of his outward acceptance of being a Nindroid. Whereas the new body can be shiny to the point of headache for his human friends, his old form adorned a far more human skin. Although it has improved software, that updated technology requires much more regular maintenance. He’s much heavier than he used to be, a fact that has contributed to many an accident resulting in something broken.
And, truth be told, one of the things that Zane misses most of all, despite how trivial it may be, is the wind blowing through his hair when he sits on the edge of the Destiny’s Bounty, legs dangling off the side, much like he is doing now.
When he built his new form, he had tried his best to emulate the box fade he’d had before, and while on the surface it looked the same, the stiff mass of solid metal just couldn’t compare to the material his father had used on his first body (Zane could never tell if it was real hair or just a very convincing replica).
And perhaps that is the best way to describe his old body: a very convincing replica. He spent years upon years believing himself to be a human until that day in the Birchwood Forest. There may have been moments where he felt different than his comrades, sure, but the possibility of being a robot had never even crossed his mind.
Something changed in him that day. Finding the blueprints shook his entire worldview, and he had hardly any time to process before being flung into battle and unlocking his true potential. In that moment, shining bright against the surrounding Treehorns, he was so sure of who he was, his conviction as hard as the titanium he is known for. But then, the moment passed, and his confidence withered away under revisited realization of what he really was.
His friends helped. Or rather, they provided distraction. They put on the brave face he lacked and told him that this changed nothing between them, and Zane let himself sink into their words. Declared a Nindroid by Jay, he was a ninja above all. Cole said he was special, which warmed what he now knew were processors. And Kai, surprisingly, gave him the space he needed while still being a source of support.
It wasn’t until they’d finally reached the Bounty, and everyone fell to their dreams that Zane finally had a moment to breathe. Or rather, think, because he wasn’t sure if he should breathe anymore. He decided to keep the unnecessary action up as a custom, because it helped him blend in with the rest of the team and would allow him to avoid any unwelcome conversations.
It was cold that night on the Bounty, just like this night. And like now, he considered many things under a blanket of stars.
In the end, a lot of his thoughts circled around the memory switch he found embedded within him. He replayed his memories through a few times more, reactions varying wildly at the end of each showing.
At first, there was anger. How could his father do that to him, how could he change his memories and then place them out of reach indefinitely? To have no agency, especially in something so crucial, it was infuriating.
Then, he was despondent, wondering how long he had gone on, lost. How many years had he wasted wandering? How many years had he been a shell of himself?
After hours and hours, he eventually accepted it. Turning off his memories had been an error, but his father had done what he thought was best. Besides, the past could never be changed, and all that was left was the future and learning from old mistakes.
Most of all, what Zane had concluded that night was that he never wanted his memories to be changed again. The idea that he could lose everyone he cared about with the flick of a button terrified him.
And so, that chilly night on the Bounty, just as the sun was beginning to spill over the horizon, he made a promise to himself. He would never tamper with his own memories, nor would he allow anyone else to do the same.
Oh, how Zane wishes he could’ve kept such a promise.
Over the years, there were close calls. Really, that business with his memory of dying before the Overlord was hardly more than an unforeseen fluke.
But now, returned from the Never-Realm, he finds that he has no convenient excuse for what he’s done, what he’s allowed to occur.
The cold air of the dark feels even chillier as he considers his time there. His entire time spent in the Never-Realm was nothing but an endless sea of broken promises, all starting with that first one he made to himself all that time ago.
Because Zane was foolish, did not think to check his surroundings or to completely isolate the cave where he left himself vulnerable, his memories were altered. More than that, they were gone. He’d lost everything by the hands of that…that degenerate.
The Never-Realm and that man worked together to bring Zane’s worst fears to light. And even his friends have unknowingly added fuel to the terror gripping his heart.
Over and over, they’ve told Zane that what happened wasn’t his fault. For as much as Zane can’t bring himself to believe them despite his hope enticing him otherwise, their words serve to darken his mood further.
It’s easy for them to say it wasn’t his fault. Not only do they not know of his broken promise, but in their judgement, they only consider the robotic facet of Zane’s existence. Except for in extremely rare cases of retrograde amnesia, his friends (sans P.I.X.A.L.) could never have been put in the same situation as he was. And no matter their memory status, they (sans P.I.X.A.L. and perhaps Lloyd) could never have kept it up for as long.
The only reason he fell so quickly and was a monster for so long was because he was a robot. Simple. Hypotheticals can’t change that fact.
Unlike a human, he can’t even rely on his own morality, the Never-Realm taught him that. Even with his memory wiped, he should’ve known right from wrong. But he didn’t, and so his hands were repeatedly stained in red.
He doesn’t deserve to be called a Nindroid. That implies there’s anything even remotely human about him. He wants to hope that he’s wrong, but like his promises, often his hopes are extinguished. He’s nothing more than lines of code made to look human. Maybe he’s working on accepting that.
The Never-Realm took everything from him. His memories, his promises, his hopes, his soul. Even now, back in Ninjago, in the correct realm, he finds that he has lost. Almost 60 years he spent being a tyrant, doing unspeakable things. He feels, and is, so much older than his companions.
He feels stuck in the eye of a storm, all his friends so far away, caught in the destruction. His eyes have seen so much more, his hands have done so much worse. Those endless decades have left him out of sync with those around him.
And worst of all, are the memories. He can’t be near Jay, Nya, or P.I.X.A.L. without images of Vex’s machinations assaulting him and fear of his own vulnerability suffocating him. Being with Kai reminds him of the warmth he was missing for decades. Lloyd’s presence surrounds him with the guilt of almost killing the green ninja, of what screams and spatters of red could have been had Vex chosen different words. It’s easier, somewhat, being around Cole, but even then, his grounding energy can’t put him at ease. Often, it brings him to his fears of the present, fears of falling back into the Ice Emperor persona.
Ever since his return to Ninjago, Zane has avoided letting anyone know just how pitiful he really is. How during most of his waking moments he’s reliving some horrible memory with little control over it. How he has refused to sleep with the assurance of his nights being much worse.
His friends don’t even know that he can remember the Never-Realm at all. When P.I.X.A.L. had proposed that the shock to his systems of his old memories returning had knocked out his relatively newer memories of the Never-Realm, Zane had decided not to argue. What would be the point of concerning his friends further?
What would be the point of correcting them when the point could very soon become a nonissue?
After all, Zane has become used to breaking promises. His consciousness is nearly a century old now, and with such age has come a new perspective. Perhaps promises aren’t the type of thing he should be making anymore.
And so, tonight, just like every night he has been back from the Never-Realm, he is awake and alone, sitting on the edge of the Bounty. The ship’s other inhabitants are asleep, unaware of both his location and the precipice he finds himself on, a question weighing upon his mind.
Which is better—to forget or to atone?
One assures confidence, comfort, no more late-night ruminations. However, it also promises that he is a robot, nothing more, as he accepts the situation was not his fault and refuses responsibility the way only a machine could. There is justice for himself here.
The other assures that he may never feel the way he once did, may never find comfort in his friends again. It ensures anguish day and night. But, above all, it also promises humanity, as he will feel as a human feels, will atone for his sins like a human. There is justice for his victims here.
For weeks this war has raged in his head. For weeks he’s been stuck crudely reimagining the day he stood tall against the sunrise, determined and yet ever so naïve.
Perhaps tonight will be different. Perhaps tonight something will shatter. The question is, is it his promise or his hope that will join his soul as pieces to be further scattered by the biting air?
Zane lets go of one of the many breaths he doesn’t need to hold.
It’s child’s play to find the exact beginning and end of his continued unfaithfulness.
A vibrant safeguard screen occupies his field of vision, waiting for the verbal command:
CONFIRM: Delete 59 years, 8 months, and 5 days of memory?
Yes No
The sun spills over the horizon, golden tears falling on the mountaintops.