Erio: Okay, who wants to do the disclaimer?
Everyone:...
Erio: Ugh, you make this difficult. Eenie meanie miney...you. Jay. Do the disclaimer.
Jay: Ugh! Why do I have to do the disclaimer, Kai and Cole haven't yet!
Erio: Just do it.
Jay: FINE. Erio99 does not own Ninjago or the characters. There, happy now?
CHAPTER 1:
"What is your name?"
I slam my fist into the punching bag. "PIXAL!"
"What is your element?"
I thrust my other fist into the bag, fury guiding me through my training.
"What is your element?" He repeats, louder and clearer.
I don't respond, I just keep hitting this bag over and over again.
"What is your element, PIXAL?" He sounds agitated now. Not surprising, all things considered. This happens every training session.
"Just answer him already, PIXAL," Jay insists from the sidelines.
But I can't. He knows it, I know it, everyone knows it. Why can't they leave me alone about it?
"This is the only way to unlock your true potential PIXAL," the bearded man insists. "You have to let go."
My fist assumes a mind of its own, slamming extra hard into the punching bag.
Ching! Crash! Ksssshh!
My thoughts become consumed by fury and regret as I watch my leather opponent collapse. Its sandy blood spills onto the bamboo floor, and I stand above it in victory.
"What is there to let go of, Sensei?"
My voice is firm, angry, and passive aggressive-more so than it usually is when I'm agitated.
I walk past him, avoiding eye contact. I can tell the ninja are watching me, and Wu is closing his eyes with disapproval. I don't need to see them to know that, it's more of a highly accurate sixth sense that I inherited from Zane.
Why did we have to do this tonight, of all nights? I just want to go away, mourn, and commemorate the dead.
...
Commemorate HIM.
I slam the door behind me. It's unintentional, but the volume of the slam serves to get my point across.
It's interesting, though, how I wasn't like this before. Long ago there was love in my heart. I used to be such a calm, placid person. I used to smile, and laugh, and feel happiness.
Now all that's left is the emptiness that eats me up inside, the nagging hatred for my own existence. Why did I have to live? Why did Zane give me half his heart? Why do I have to be the Master of Ice in his place?
So many questions, so many answers-but few of them are ones I am willing to accept. I see no purpose in me continuing to live. I see no logic to me being the Ice Elemental, aside from that I apparently got some of his powers from the half-heart he gave me.
Strolling through the underground passages, my steps become strict and robotic-in stark contrast to the flowing gait of my past self.
I can still remember it now, the first time we met. I sashayed elegantly up to him, and we locked eyes and-
No. Stop thinking like that, PIXAL. Those days are over. You'll never get them back. Not now, not ever. Now all that's left is me, this empty shell of a beautiful girl who used to be great.
After a long and agonizing walk, I emerge from the secret Wu Cru catacombs and into the living quarters. A long, dim hallway meets me with a solemn lunar light that dances through the windows.
Four rooms down, to the left. Take a turn. Close the door. Pretend you don't want to cry. Sit there in grief as you wait for someone to come in and console you like they always do.
Knock knock.
Well that was fast, faster than usual.
"Come in," I say, a little less antagonistic than last I spoke.
My bedroom door creaks open, and a face meets me. It tells a tale of a feisty character, one filled with fire but made of water. Her eyes are plastered with sympathy and empathy, and her upset face tells me exactly what she's going to say.
"You okay, PIX?"
I cringe. Why does everyone call me that? I hate that nickname. "Yes, Nya. I am fine."
She takes that as an invitation to crawl deeper into my room, and sits herself beside me on my silver-duvet bed.
"You know you can talk to me if you ever need to, right?"
"Yes, Nya. I am fully aware that everyone is here to support me. Thank you for the sentiment."
She's not leaving. Is she so dense that she can't read my blatantly obvious social cues?
The water ninja sighs, and tugs at the collar of her gi. "Look. It's been hard on you after Zane died, I get that. None of us were romantically attached to him like you were, PIXAL. And on top of ALL THAT, you now have half his heart and have inherited half his powers. And you're supposed to take his place on the team, forced to live out his legacy. I don't know what that's like, but I can tell you that I'm sorry you have to have this burden. But it's not...YOUR burden alone. We were all close to him, I'd say that Cole and perhaps Jay were the closest of all. We all took it hard, and one some teeny tiny level we can relate a bit."
She thinks she can relate? Oh please. But, I have to be polite. "Thank you, Nya. Your words are meaningful."
I pause, and look at the stars beyond my small window. "Tomorrow is the Day of the Departed. It's been a very long time since Zane sacrificed himself to destroy the Overlord. There will also be a special ceremony in his honour that night, which I assure you I will be attending-"
She interjects, placing her hand on my shoulder. "We'll ALL be attending, PIXAL."
For a moment, I might of smiled. But I didn't. So I continue. "I promise you, Nya, I will go back to my old self once this day has passed. It is a sore spot for me, as you can imagine, and I may need some time to myself."
Her dead grimace sinks. "But PIXAL, that's all you ever GET. When you're not going on missions, doing your job, or training, you're by yourself. In here. Doing nothing but moping and regretting and snapping at people. At this point you've stopped fixing all the damages to your exoskeleton. Look at yourself! You're riddled with holes!"
I obey, and gaze down at my off-white hands. Rusted scars are dug into the artificial flesh, exposing wires and frayed cables. Green circuits glow dimly, LEDs blink sporadically, and specks of torn-up metal litter my belongings.
She is right. I don't take care of myself anymore. But do I have a reason to?
"Look, PIXAL. I'm not here to tell you how to live your life. But it's been three years since he died. I get that you need your time to heal, but if you don't learn how to move on that could spell bad things for the team...and for yourself. You need your space, I know. I needed my space, too, when my parents died. But you can't let your pain control you, PIX."
Okay, her thinking she can relate because her folks passed away is where I draw the line.
Trying as best as I can to sound as good-hearted as I did before he died, I speak. "Nya. I send my condolences to you for the loss of your parents. I am sure you will be thinking of them a lot tomorrow. I apologize for sounding...'cold'...but I do not feel you could relate to me. I am fine, in any case."
"I get that, PIXAL. And no, you're NOT fine."
Should I really tell her about my visions? Would that be the right thing to do? Probably not, Nya wouldn't understand anyways.
But it seems she already knows a thing or two about them. She grabs my arm gently. "PIXAL. You're holding something back from me. What is it?"
I look away. Can I really tell her? "I am afraid it is something you could not help me with."
"Try me," she challenges.
I let out a mechanical exhale. Alright, FINE. If that's what it takes to get her to leave me alone, then I'll allow her to think she's helping me reach closure.
"Two-thousand, four hundred, eighty-three," I say.
"What?"
"That is how many visions of him I have had in the past three years. And all of them, are of him dying. Not just his noble sacrifice, but...other times as well."
Nya lets go of my mutilated arm, and I rub my hand over the decaying metal. "I do not know what triggers them, but ever since Zane died I have been receiving visions. Each time, he is in some strange situation that leads to his death. Most of them are sacrifices. He is always in the same strange, abstract realm. He is always fighting some monster. He does not win every time, but he DOES die every time. And with every passing dream I have..."
I'm 98.6% certain that Nya's going to tell everyone else about this, about this secret I've been guarding under lock and key for all this time.
Nonetheless, it's time to finish my act. I lift up my purple gi, and turn around to show her my nicked back. I don't need eyes on the back of my head to know that she is looking at my gaping scars-ones that almost look human.
She lets out a small gasp. "Oh my god, PIX. I had no idea."
Again with the nickname. It's bad enough that I have to recall all this for her, but then she has to make it worse by using that forsaken word. "How could you have known? I did not tell anyone about this."
Her fingers lace the pain-stricken edges of a scar, still in shock. "What is this? What are these?"
"When he dies in the dreams, the place and way he died shows up on me in the form of a scar. I have multiple in my chest, from the many times he was stabbed or shot in the heart. Sometimes my own 'heart' stops, and sometimes I feel his pain."
"I need to tell Wu about this. This isn't natural, this isn't some simple dream. Something bad may be happening to you!"
And I know I can't stop that fierce water master, so I let her give me a hug and some words of wisdom before parting to tell the sensei of my predicament.
I scoff. I settle back into my normal persona, the one that doesn't have to pretend that they're still a heartbroken little girl who waits patiently for her knight in shining gears to return. Now I am the battle-worn warrior android who fights and lives without a purpose-who knows her knight will never come home.
A searing pain slaps the backs of my eyes, overwhelming my processors and memory drives and everything that makes me mechanical. Even my faulty power core, ESPECIALLY my power core.
It's happening again. Ugh.
I lay down. Gotta prepare myself for dream number 2,484. I sense it's going to be an especially hurtful one.
Closed eyes, mind focused. Time to embrace the nightmare, and let it take over my nonexistent soul.
It's hazy, but I can make out a world of darkness. A small light stands amidst it. Tentacles squirm under the sticky veil of death that surrounds a young man. He has his tufty white hair in an undercut, slicked back and messy. Blood cries from his eyes, ears, and lip. He wears a plaid, black-and-white dress shirt. It's unbuttoned, wrinkled, and torn in countless places. Underneath is a grey v-neck, one with ripped claw-marks that ooze a sticky red molasses. He is sad, and afraid.
If only I could comfort him, but it's just a dream. You can't comfort a dream.
His lower lip quivers, and tears dilute the blood drooling down his flushed cheeks. "I am a ninja, and NINJA NEVER QUIT!"
A scary, raspy voice calls out to him. "Oh, but you're not a ninja anymore. You're not even REAL anymore. And soon, you won't even be yourself anymore."
The person in question, who I know to be Zane, clenches his grip around a small dagger. Illegible scribbles are carved into the handle, and he reads them briefly before facing the darkness once more.
"Tell me, doomed hero," the voice says. "Why do you keep trying? You know you cannot defeat me, or fear, or the nightmares. You only have 667 deaths left. There is nothing for you to fight for, so why?"
Some tentacles grab at him from all angles, lifting him off the ground and constricting his chest and limbs. His weapon falls to the ground with a disheartening clatter.
Grunting, Zane responds. "I-I have nothing worth f-fighting for..."
The tentacles tighten their grip, and Zane coils within himself. Shaking and sprawling about as if in a seizure, he manages to get a few words out of his trembling mouth. "B-but I have some-ONE worth living f-for...P-PIX-X-AL..."
I try not to let his words hit me as hard as they do. It's just a dream. A very realistic one, but the fact remains.
The voice laughs. "Ha! Silly fool. Your girl is in the real world. You are here. You are imaginary. There is no way you can ever return to her, ever again."
With that, another tentacle drives itself through the space between his eyes.
...
The vision is over, and I would be in a cold sweat if I COULD sweat. My chest is pounding, my core is glitching, and I feel the presence of a new scar on my forehead.
Wu, Misako, and the ninja are all surrounding me with worried looks. All of their worried looks are targeted at my face, my scar.
"May I help you?" I ask between heavy breaths.
"Actually," Wu argues. "This is a matter of how WE can help YOU."