Chapter Text
Death isn't so bad, when you're used to it—forty years of it, actually—but this death is entirely different than before.
The Departed Realm.
It's calm, quiet, an infinite amount of time to think. It's the most peaceful few seconds Morro has ever felt. Few seconds, because it's practically ripped away before he can really even take it in. His senses are thrown violently to the surface again, like being ripped straight out of the water he'd just been dragged deep into.
The water that suffocated him, drowned his soul and sent it writhing into a different afterlife than before.
The Cursed Realm is gone. The Preeminent was drowned in Her attempts to conquer more realms.
She dragged him down, too. He should be dead, a second time, his soul buried deep in the Departed Realm in whatever corner the universe devises to stuff him into now. So tell him why…
Why?
Why is he standing—floating—just off the ground, staring at those accursed ninja as they help clean up Stiix after the failed invasion. The town itself is still in shambles, still rebuilding from all the damage caused by both the fights and the Preeminent Herself.
And strangely enough, no one seems to have a problem with his presence. It doesn't take much for him to understand why, either.
For the first ten minutes, he spends every second trying to get someone's attention. Any of them, even that brat of a Green Ninja. It's to no avail, no one notices him, no one hears his yelling, his cursing them and the very day they were born.
Even Wu sees clear through him.
"Just what's happening?" He murmurs to himself, looking down at see-through hands that immediately clench into fists.
Hah… This is his punishment, right? Forced to spectate this stupid world he almost destroyed for the rest of his afterlife, no peace for him at all. No one can see him, no one can hear him, and he can't even hear the wind anymore.
Destiny is a bitch, it really, really is.
Well, at least it can't get any worse, right?
Wrong.
He was wrong, he was so, so wrong. This is worse than the worst punishment, he's sure of it. Simply watching Stiix be rebuilt got old very fast, if he's to be stuck here for the rest of time he might as well wander and find some way to entertain himself. It would at least be less boring to travel.
Only, he can't leave.
He tries, he really does, but he only makes it as far at the town's entrance before he's snapped back—to the ninja.
He tries again, taking a different path. Again, he ends up right back at the ninjas sides.
Again, and again.
It's pointless to try. Like a ball and chain, he's tethered to the fools, he can't leave them. He can't get away. It's frustrating, infuriating even, and Morro wants nothing more than to beat them into the ground for this slight.
And then it just gets worse.
Because he realizes only hours later, when they split up to do whatever it is ninja do when they're not ruining every machination he comes up with, that it isn't the group he's tethered to.
It's Lloyd.
The realization sinks in his stomach like a rock into water, like he did himself quite literally the night before. He's tethered to the Green Ninja. He's tethered to the guy that stole his entire purpose, that Destiny favored, that he possessed and tortured for weeks.
As he watches Lloyd chat amicably with the Stiix villagers at the town's gate, Morro feels that incensed feeling only rising.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Come to find out, Lloyd's life is remarkably dull.
It's weird, watching him walk through life, Morro will admit. He's a lot different when he's not bashing against the mental cage Morro had slammed him into and screaming to be let go. He's soft-spoken yet firm, gentle in everything except fighting.
Watching him train and fight actually, is the most entertaining part of all of this.
"Come on, green bean!" The red ninja—Kai, his mind supplies—shouts as he lowers his stance. "You're not going to beat me just standing there!"
Lloyd grins, bright and amused. "Yeah, yeah, as if you can win!"
The two are standing on the deck of that flying ship—the Destiny's Bounty—sparring. Morro's sitting on the lowermost sail, head propped on his hand as he takes in their fight. The blows exchanged are swift—held back, yet with enough power to easily take someone weak out.
But neither of them are weak.
Morro picks apart their stances, their movements. Every one of the ninja have unique fighting styles, come to find out. Kai and Jay rely more on speed, but Kai is much more fluid compared to Jay's exactness. A dancing flame to the strike of lightning. Meanwhile Cole is sturdy like a rock, his style relying more on being grounded, on strength. Zane's… well that tin man seems to rely on grounded techniques too, but more about using opponent's movements to his advantage.
It's not unlike how Morro himself fights, but still different.
Lloyd… Lloyd fights like all of them combined.
He could switch up at any moment, changing tactics and style. It's probably because all four of them trained him, Morro supposes.
He shakes his head, focusing on the sparring match once more. They're still evenly matched, but it's clear that Lloyd is gaining the upper hand. Morro can't help but laugh to himself when the Master of Fire finally slips up—a single misstep, a strike dodged, and Lloyd flips straight over his head.
The moment he lands, the Green Ninja turns, sweeping Kai's legs out from under him and pointing the wooden sword at his throat.
"Give up?" He asks, smiling confidently.
Something wrenches in Morro's chest. The words, the tone, the smile. They're identical to the way he'd act after a sparring match with the rest of Wu's students, way back then.
Oh, that's a feeling he absolutely hates.
"Yeah, yeah, okay." Kai sighs, pushing the sword tip away as he sits up. "Geez, you'd think I wasn't the one who taught you that."
Lloyd laughs, offering a hand that Kai takes.
They talk more, continue training, but Morro doesn't hear a word of it. No, he's stuck in his own mind, the ghostly voices of the past plaguing him for far too long to be comfortable.
"Come on, Morro!"
The shout drags his attention, and he looks across the training grounds to his friend and rival. An grins at him confidently, the kind of grin Morro can't wait to wipe off of his face. This had become a daily ritual for the two of them—An challenges Morro, and Morro accepts. They spar, Morro wins, rinse and repeat.
Today goes no differently than the day before.
Morro runs headfirst into the fray, the winds at his back and his swings sharp and focused. His assault with the wooden sword is to be feared, quick and pressing, he doesn't give an inch. An tries to defend, but stuck in that position, quickly losing ground, doesn't give him any opportunity to fight back.
The moment he does manage to, Morro drops to a roll, swinging the wooden sword clean into An's ankles and toppling him over.
When his opponent opens his eyes and looks up, he's met with a sword tip in front of his face.
Morro smirks, held held high and proud. Confident. "Give up?"
Days pass, weeks, and Morro is still stuck here. He just roams their home, spectral, invisible. No one can hear him still, or see him, and it's beginning to get on his nerves. He hates this, he hates not being perceived, and he hates being stuck here even more.
He also hates that he's begun to actually find them interesting.
It's funny to watch Jay flounder around, he thinks it's entertaining to watch Cole cook—and the chaos that always follows—to watch Zane and Nya build things, to watch Kai accidentally set their training courses on fire. Multiple times. He finds watching Wu the most peaceful experience, familiar and nostalgic.
Even watching Lloyd has become an enjoyable pastime.
Most of the time, at least.
It's less enjoyable at night, far less. Nighttime had become Morro's solace, his time to just forget everything and think. He doesn't have to sleep, being a ghost, and he doesn't have anyone to watch or anything to do, so he uses that time to meditate.
He might be dead, twice now, but that doesn't mean he's going to skimp out on his training.
He didn't in the Cursed Realm, so he isn't going to now.
His mornings are for practicing forms, training as best he can without a corporeal body to use a training dummy. It sucks he can't, but he'll manage, he always does. His nights are for meditating, when he can at least.
The first night he hears a scream breaks him of that routine.
It startles him, and he's surprised at the spike of panic it drives through him, because he should not be feeling that for any of these idiots. Especially not for the one who just screamed.
The entire Bounty is woken up by that scream, and Morro decides to follow as they all rush to a particular room. When he steps through the door, he's met with the grim sight of Lloyd thrashing in his bed, sleeping face scrunched in pain and panic, a scream leaving his throat.
Night terrors.
They happen every few days, sometimes multiple times in a night. Every time someone finally gets him awake, he simply mumbles something stupid like how he's fine or how it doesn't bother him that much.
That's a load of bullshit.
From there comes the first time Morro's notices just how exhausted Lloyd looks. Dark circles under his eyes, accentuated by sleepless nights, jumpy at even the slightest sounds once darkness falls.
One night, Kai is the one to rush to his room when the screams start.
"Hey!" He shouts, gently pulling Lloyd's arms to the bed. "Hey, Lloyd, wake up, it's fine, you're fine."
Lloyd's eyes snap open and a strangled gasp leaves him. Eyes wide and breathing heavy, he slowly looks at Kai, and Morro grimaces at the open fear on the boy's face.
"K… Kai…?" The words come out a terrified whisper, and Kai only nods before pulling Lloyd into a hug.
"It's okay, you're safe." The Master of Fire reassures him, then when he finally sits back he says the words Morro had almost been dreading.
(When did he begin to dread them? He can't say.)
"Was it about Morro again?"
Lloyd doesn't speak, he doesn't say a word, but tears well in his eyes and he nods eagerly. A second later he throws himself into Kai's arms again, crying softly into his clothes. Normally, Morro would laugh at the sight, maybe make some unheard jeer about how childish Lloyd is being, but instead it makes his stomach twist and he can't explain why.
It takes him another few days to understand what it is.
It's regret. Guilt.
He regrets what he's done, he feels guilty about the state he'd left Lloyd in. Why? Why does he care about this idiot now? Why does he care about any of them? He shouldn't, they ruined his plans, they brought about a second death for him.
So why?!
On the deck of the Bounty, on top of the mast, actually, Morro stares up at the waxing moon with a glare. He's stopped staying below deck, tired of listening to Lloyd's screams and cries, tired of feeling sick every time he hears them.
It just reminds him of everything he'd done.
(He could have left well enough alone back then, he could've left Lloyd alone, but his obsession with being the Green Ninja had overtaken everything. Just like always.
He should've backed off the moment he turned around in that forcibly shared mind-space and saw an eleven year old child.)
A sigh leaves his lips. Dwelling on the past won't change anything, he already knows that, so he should just deal with it. What's done is done, and he can't change it now, he can't do anything to fix it either.
Maybe that's what this purgatory is about, maybe he's just supposed to bear witness the pain he's caused, to see the way he'd broken Lloyd.
It sucks.
Well, at least he can look forward to seeing the festivities soon. The Day of the Departed is coming up, it'd always been his favorite holiday when he was alive. Maybe it'll be fun to see how it's changed over the years.
It gives him a good distraction from his spiraling thoughts, at least.