Chapter Text
It was a tempestuous night. The clouds embraced the sky deliberately covering the starlight, hiding away the beauty of the moon on the horizon. A month had passed since Thunderfang's defeat, since Arin and Sora had run away with the enemy, leaving the rest with an uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty that they did not bother in hiding; wondering every morning if they were safe, if anything had fed their stomachs before noon.
Silently, the master of water walked between the halls of the Monastery of Spinjitzu, taking care of the noise her footsteps made, for it was midnight already. A month had passed since she met with the best mercenary in all the Merged Realms, and there was nothing that could take her mind away from it. If she allowed herself to, she could spend hours staring at the man that once promised her eternal love, whom she had planned to die with and live other lives if these existed. She looked at him perplexed, naive, hoping that, in any moment, perhaps magically, who now was nothing more than a memory would run straight to her arms. But deep inside, she was starting to believe that said day would never come.
Maybe that was the price for loving each other. Maybe their love was just too great and inconceivable, that it was impossible for it not to end in tragedy. Maybe the world wasn't ready for two people loving each other until the end of time, willing to give every part of their souls as proof, exhausting their last breaths to bear witness to the feeling. Maybe they were never meant to be together in the first place, and it would have been better for both if she hadn't smiled back that night in the Fire Temple, yet she couldn't care less about it. She loved Jay, that was undeniable. Sometimes she wished she had told him earlier.
She wanted to take him in her arms, squeeze him with all her might and cling to his warmth, to the life resting in the sound of his heartbeat. She wanted to play with his hair, long and brown as a mid-autumn harvest, holding its waves between her fingertips. She wanted to decipher his gaze and let him know that everything would be okay without the need for words, to heal his pain with the touch of their souls under the shelter of the twilight. She wanted everything that would be denied to her in an instant, an object of her love that was openly hidden behind closed doors.
Their love was often equated with the suffering it entailed, proving to her each time that their union wasn't meant to be a long-term promise; and still, aware of the fate that awaited them, nothing could have prepared her for this moment. After months without being so close since their combat in the Tournament of Sources, Nya looked at him lying on the couch of their living room. At the one who had sworn to hate her. At the one who occasionally watched her when she pretended not to notice, revealing much less than love, but definitely not resentment in his eyes, perhaps it even being interest. In the end, she gazed with concern at the one who was burying himself under years of loneliness and torment, one from which she could not save him.
“I can see you” said Jay, setting her back in reality. “I broke my leg, not my eyes. It's weird.”
Nya frowned. “What is?”
“That thing you're doing. Staring at someone from the door. It's weird.”
“You can't break your eyes.”
“What?”
“You can't break your eyes. You said "I broke my leg, not my eyes", but eyes can't be broken, they just stop working as they should.”
“So?”
“So nothing. You were wrong.”
“Are you always this annoying? Or are you just a nerd?” Jay crossed his arms.
Nya shook her head. “Whatever. I just came to give you this blanket because I'm heading to bed” she sighed. “Are you sure you don't wanna go back to your room?”
Jay rolled his eyes. “That is not my room. I already told you! I'm not him! Sleeping in what you call a “monastery” already makes me feel so stupid. I just accepted your help because I'm clearly injured and I can't work like this. But once I recover, you can forget I was ever here” he looked at Nya up and down repeatedly. “And calling yourselves "ninja" when you're just wearing fruit-colored suits is ridiculous, by the way. But hey, at least you don't look that pathetic. Not in comparison to your stupid teammates, anyway” he said, looking away from her.
Nya completely ignored his, very strange, compliment disguised as sarcasm. “Well” her eyes watered a little. “I'll leave you then. Good night, Jay. If you need anything, my room's on the left.”
Jay took the thin, blue blanket and placed it over his legs. It was the first time in his life, or what he could remember of it, that he felt the warmth of a shelter. “I can look after myself.”
Nya nodded subtly, avoiding eye contact. She approached the electrical switch, turning it off. “Please get some rest” she finished, sliding the door closed behind her and leaving the room.
Suddenly, the rain increased.
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Without a window to allow the entrance of any light, Jay was in complete darkness, with just the presence of his own element to make him company from the storm. With no need of using it to light up the room, he closed his eyes for a moment, taking his time to admire the silence of the night; appreciating the peace of the occasion, free from others' expectations and fake promises. He contemplated loneliness and got drunk by it, finding comfort in what feels close, in the grace of getting further every time from any sentiment too vulnerable to be necessary, in the illusion that emptiness was better.
Because in a way, he envied the tears threatening to fall down the lady's face, although he was too proud to admit it. Deep down he knew that, once the night had fallen and the sun had set, there was nothing that he wished for more. To feel a glimpse of humanity, no matter how miserable, peeking into the corner of a heart, if he had one, whose warmth had been snatched away long ago. And what was a sign of it, if not pain itself?
He abruptly placed his left hand on the opposite shoulder, hoping to relieve the persistent itch on his skin. He began to replay their first encounter with obsession, recalling her words, not understanding the reason for dwelling on the echo of vile lies.
"I love you, I will always love you" her voice echoed like a melody sweet enough for him to not want to hear it again, overwhelming and irritating. The mere thought of that moment caused an uncontrollable aversion to him, making his heart race and his senses tense, awakening in him an unknown discomfort he refused to explore.
"And I will always hate you" sometimes he questioned the authenticity of his response. If he truly despised her dark hair and tan skin, if the thought of her causing him to lose sleep stemmed from cruel feelings, or if his revulsion wasn't personal, but rather against her words, seemingly genuine but in his eyes, shallow. However, if they were true, the object of that love had died years ago, and she refused to accept it. That was the problem.
Because maybe Jay didn't really hate her. Because perhaps he just hated the idea that those who swore him shelter put so much effort into forcing him to take a role he didn't belong to. Because possibly, under other circumstances, he would have considered her good company, if only she didn't cling to her past as if her sanity depended on it, because it surely did. Because he could tell how much she wanted him back, if he had ever been hers, even for an instant. Because he wasn't who she was waiting for, and he would never be.
He threw his hand to his shoulder again, but now rougher, aggressively scratching his skin repeatedly as he noticed the sensation hadn't eased. Despite it being a common feeling, his scars had become more exasperating in the last months, same that he carried with shame under the fabric of his gi, a constant reminder of his weakness and the battles it had made him lose. Some, thick and protruding, ran across his chest and abdomen, punishment for a training that in the end, due to his impulsiveness and incompetence, was in vain. Others, thin and almost unnoticeable, lied hidden on his face, neglect of his new life as a bounty hunter, making him wonder if his rivals would notice them when facing him, confirming his mediocrity. And a few, almost perfect and bulging, covered his arms and shoulders, search for a feeling in the midst of a void, several even present before he could remember.
The intensity of his scratching increased, now directed at both shoulders with his hands on the opposite side. "Who are you, Jay?" he thought. Since his first night at The Administration, covered in cold sheets and the darkness of his office, he had done nothing but run from that question, avoiding it every time it showed up to torture him and keep him up until dawn. He wasted his time staring at his reflection wherever he went, contemplating, and even judging the skin that covered it, aware that it had been given to him, still wasn't his. And yet, somehow, everyone seemed to know who he was. Everyone but him.
"Who are you, if not the ghost, the shadow, of who you used to be?" he questioned himself. "You don't know because you're nobody, you're nothing" he finally replied. He pulled his nails from his skin, now rubbing his shoulders with his fingers, moaning in pain. He wanted to get up and run away to where no one could find him again, hide from reality and its witnesses so he could never have to face it; bury any proof of what he was under the wounds of a past without memories. He wanted to escape and at the same time, strangely, to stay, give in to the affection that was promised to him, believe in the words of the woman who claimed to love him and remember her for more than her name, get soaked in her scent and allow her to touch him much more than she tried to. He wanted to feel the touch of company, but couldn't. He could not allow himself to be vulnerable again.
He pulled his knees close to his chest, resting his chin on them while he hugged his legs strongly. Slowly, he leaned to his left until his head fell onto the armrest of the couch, covering his body with the blanket on his legs almost completely, leaving only half of his face to be seen. He took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to soothe his agony, inevitably failing, letting a tear escape down his cheek for the first time in years, a tear filled with embarrassment, for being unable to stop it, and regret, for every failure that had led him to that moment; where he was nobody, no one but a lonely man in the darkness of what maybe could have been once his home.
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What was the past, if not a vile remembrance of what had been lost? Memories of regret, vestiges of a painful love that patiently waited for an end. Nya took Mr. Cuddlywomp in her arms, squeezing him as if he were the person he once belonged to, shedding tears over his blue face, one after another, mourning the loss of the man that used to sleep by her side before the chaos; before, for the umpteenth time, their future was taken away from them.
With her right hand, she took the medallion pinned to her blouse, carefully observing the details on her half; her black dragon, submerged in golden plumage, not knowing where its complement had ended up, or if it was even in the possession of its original owner. In a way, such a jewel represented her relationship with Jay, or what was of it, perfectly: two practically opposite entities with only one thing in common, the love they had for each other and how this made them one, the other being a part of them whose absence they would suffer forever, in one way or another. She never imagined this would turn into a reality threatening to become eternity.
"I'm not him" he had assured her with annoyance. But if he wasn't him , if he was so sure about it, then why did she see him hidden for seconds in his gaze, now withering and cruel? Why, for moments, when he seemed to forget the hatred he claimed to have for her, she heard the cunning and playful person she fell in love with? Why did he, despite rejecting the others at all costs, accept her attempts to touch him, close and constant? If she had truly lost him forever, then how could he explain the smiles, however subtle and sporadic, escaping from his cheeks when they had the chance to chat in the mornings? If he was no longer the man she loved, then what was her heart beating out of her chest whenever she watched him approach, nervous and excited by his presence, but never afraid? Who was he, if not the man for whom she gave and would give her life again without hesitation?
Memories began to invade her, causing her hands to tremble a little. Even after years since the incident in Merlopia, after saving what she loved most from an imminent end, pain strained through the thin cracks in her heart. Death had always been fascinated by her soul. Jay had no right to take away her sentence and assume her destiny as his own.
The cold of her beloved against her chest stuck to her body from time to time, and the failed efforts between his breaths sounded in the distance of every nightmare following the tragedy, mixed with new memories, where he didn't react to her name and she cried upon hearing his. Although she tried hard to leave the past between the grasp of yesterday, it escaped every night to torment her; to add to the emptiness of her sorrows and feed the fear of that helpless girl from Ignacia. Of having something to lose, especially now that she already had.
Nonetheless, her misfortune had not begun that morning in a building, but long before, among the rubble of an empire in ruins. Despite the pain caused by the poison penetrating her skin, she gently caressed the face of her reconciled love, trying to calm him down and let him know that he would be fine without her, even if her death was almost inevitable, for she wouldn't let him sacrifice the world in exchange for her life. She could see the sorrow in his eyes, and in his voice, trembling and on the verge of tears, she sensed his fear, the one of having found their way back to each other just to say goodbye hours later in the worst way possible. That's when she knew. "The greatest love stories do always end in tragedy" she despised herself for saying it, because she knew it was true, and her present was just another compelling proof of it.
That was how their sentence started. In hands of a sick and twisted mind, who found joy in torturing them in the worst ways possible; some even kept to themselves, as remembering the damage more than necessary would unleash an unbearable pain.
As a result, they used to spend their nights together, even if they rested in separate rooms back at the time, completely wrapped as their wailing exceeded their bodies' capacity. They often comforted each other until falling asleep, and just for that, Nya was somewhat glad that Jay had no memory of the agony, even if it meant being left alone with the grief.
She remembered the sound of his sobs as if she had heard them yesterday. Jay cried in a very peculiar way, so much that if anyone claimed to not recognize it, it must be because they were ignoring it. His cries weren't loud, but almost silent, trying to remain unnoticeable to the ears of most; but it was his slow, desperate grasps for air, just like the ones on his deathbed, that gave him away to Nya, awakening in her a protective instinct born from past tragedies.
It was then that a strange noise coming from the hallway unsettled her, one that she recognized instantly, sharpening her senses.
Jay cried in a very peculiar way.
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The rain pattered on the roof, increasing its intensity as Nya approached the living room, accompanied by the lightning striking across the sky. She stood in front of the entrance, wondering if the noises had just been a product of her imagination, as she was now in complete silence. However, as she placed her hand on the door, her questions were answered. Slow and struggling, just as she remembered it from her dreams, Jay's breathing could be heard on the other side of the wall; deep and heavy, as if he had been trying to hold it in for a while.
She opened the door stealthily, peering into the darkness of the room.
“Jay?” She whispered. “Jay?” She repeated, increasing the volume of her voice a little. “Is everything okay?”
Silence.
Surprised after not receiving a response, she reached for the light switch with her hand, turning it on. “Jay?” She tried once again.
Beneath the warmth of his blanket, Jay was lying on the couch, right where she had left him, just that he was now hugging one of the throw pillows, pulling it close to his chest; breathing in the same way she had recognized from afar. His eyes were irritated, and his hair, now loose, rested over his shoulders, tangled and dull, giving his appearance an untidy look. He did not appear to be contemplating anything but nothingness itself, seeming to dismiss her company as a whole, pressing his body even stronger as the time between his breaths lengthened.
Paralyzed, Nya stared at him with concern, frozen at the doorway as her judgement was being clouded with memories; of finding him in the middle of the night on his bedroom floor, with bruises on his back and wounds that, no matter how much they were being cared for, would not heal. References to a pain that remained in the reflection of his soul, causing him insomnia and hours of relief over the chest of his then-beloved, searching in her heartbeat for a reason to preserve his.
A few seconds passed before she regained her sense of reality. Slowly, she approached the couch, sitting next to him, looking for any reaction of his, who remained still as if life had been drained away from his body.
“Jay” she said quietly. “Are you okay?”
Silence.
“I guess not, right? What a stupid question” she continued. “It's fine if you don't wanna talk to me. But I believe I heard you cry —she was sure of it— and I couldn't help but-”
“No” he finally looked at her, interrupting.
“No?” She raised an eyebrow. “No what?”
"I'm not fine" Jay thought to himself, discarding the idea immediately. “I wasn't crying” he sat. “It's just hard for me to breathe sometimes. That's all. I must be allergic to something you've got here.”
"Of course you were" Nya replied to herself, preferring not to insist, at least not for the moment. “I see” she didn't want to leave him alone. “And tell me. What do you think about the blanket I gave you?”
“Not bad” he looked at her, knowing her intentions. “It's very blue” for some reason, and although he struggled to admit it, he did not oppose to these. “It's my favorite color.”
Nya smiled, causing Jay to do the same in return, but subtly.
“Jay?” She placed her hand on his shoulder, wishing to get closer, but accepting that perhaps it wouldn't be appropriate.
“Yeah?” He glanced at her action, letting it be.
“Are you okay?” She said again, hoping that this time he wouldn't ignore the question.
He remained silent for a moment, wanting to reveal the truth and allow himself, just for once, to open up to someone, especially now that the opportunity had been given to him. But he couldn't. “I will be” he replied, simply placing his hand on hers, hoping that his gaze would be enough to understand what he really meant. “Nya?” The sound of her name between his lips sent particularly pleasant shivers down his spine.
“What?”
"I might not actually hate you" he couldn't allow himself to admit it. “Can you stay for a while?”
Nya nodded, hope returning to her eyes. “I can stay all night if you want.”