Chapter Description: Pixal's view on everything. Thoughts she would never share. Not that anyone except Zane ever asked.
A/N: Can you tell this chapter was rushed? 'Cause it was. I was just finishing up my first copy of this chapter when my older brother had a concert, so I finished up and tried to make it as good as possible. I'll be in Arizona during the rest of this week, so I tried to get my weekly update in. Also, new cover photo!
Chapter Four: The Art Of Taking
Zane was a giver. Pixal could vouch for such. He had given her alone so many things: emotions, life, a home, and something to fight for. Something to stand for. But sometimes, she wished he would put a cap on how many things he gave- never had the ninja before out a cap on how much they took.
They took far too much, in Pixal's opinion. She noticed the dents on Zane's hands. She analyzed the training equipment in the morning and pieced together what had happened within a fraction of a second.
But she didn't say a word. She kept silent, instead of scolding Zane, which probably wouldn't have helped anyway. But she didn't just watch, she fixed things when Zane didn't realize it. When he finally laid down to rest, (to keep up appearances to the other ninja) she awoke. Every night, she would take over his body and repair a little bit of the damage that had been done, the scratches on paint she filled in, the fraying wires stretched from punches and kicks. She would sigh and silently chide him, but wait for the morning. Pixal mentally took stock of everything he had done to himself, planning on berating him for every last thing.
Yet, even though she was constantly getting angry at him, Pixal couldn't stay annoyed for long. She loved Zane for so many reasons, and though she wouldn't happily do it, she'd rather attend to his injuries than rebuke him.
'It was all the ninja's fault,' she grumbled. 'They taught him this.' Taught him what? Taught him that his self-being and the stress he put on himself didn't matter in the slightest. Taught him that he didn't matter in the slightest, other than his fighting ability.
Zane didn't know, but she recorded his thoughts in the background. While he kicked through punching bags and iced the floor, he wondered about things he would never share with Pixal. Dark thoughts, and thoughts pondering his ability. He worried about if they only kept him on the team because of his ice, and he worried about what would happen when they reached the end of their destiny. Would they split up, going their separate ways? Or would they stay together?
He also wondered about his immortality. His old robot body was at least thirty, fourth years old, at least. And it still looked sixteen. Though his new one was brand new and a lot shiner than before, he still looked sixteen-ish. Pixal searched through his thoughts and realized that he knew that he would still look the same when the other ninja had their first kids. When their kids had kids. When they died. When their entire family name died out, a million or trillion years down the line.
He would still look sixteen.
Pixal didn't search further than the thought about what would happen when everyone else was gone.
She always deleted the memory of those thoughts from her own database.