A/N: Well, I've been long away from this. My computer guru found this floating in the nether realm and sent it to me. I finished it, polished it and present it now. Hope you like!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Hunter stared at the Academy, or rather, what was left. The building was gone; everything was gone, except for a single building, their bike shed. Blake swallowed, "How could he do this? Why didn't we know?" He whispered.
"Come on," Hunter said, "let's go check our bikes." He walked down their, and a few moments later Blake was beside him, looking nervous. He slung his arm around his brother's shoulders casually, "It's going to be ok, Blake." He said, when Blake didn't look at him, he sighed, dropped his arm and stepped in front of him. "Look at me, Blake," he said, resting his hands on his brother's shoulders. Finally, Blake looked at him. "I'm not mad at you, neither are the others. You know that. What happened wasn't your fault; Lothor's power is stronger than either of us anticipated. Now," he straightened up, giving his brother a firm shake, "you have two choices. You can curl up in a ball and have a pity party, or you can help me figure out a plan to get the ninjas back and defeat Lothor. I'm going to go check on the bikes. Catch up when you know what you want." Hunter released his brother and made his way down the path to the shed.
Blake glanced around and saw a bench that had been, somehow, left untouched. He sat down on it, lotus style and began to think. He knew Hunter didn't remember how Blake had become one of Lothor's minions, courtesy of Lothor's memory magic. Blake had agreed to Lothor's demands to stop him from hurting Hunter. Lothor had tried, repeatedly, to get Hunter on his side, figuring that if he got the older brother, the younger would follow. Then Lothor had turned to Blake, and Blake, fearing that his brother would be hurt, or worse, had agreed to step into the 'room' that would explain everything. He had been so filled with the need for revenge that he'd put aside every scrap of honor he held.
Hunter's own calm thinking, and his promise, had kept their work from being so much more destructive than it had been. If Hunter hadn't kept Blake in check, Blake would have wound up killing someone, most likely himself. With the blinding need for revenge gone, Blake freely acknowledged that the Amphibidor incident had been reckless and fairly close to suicidal, no matter how prepared he thought he had been. He had seen it as a way to get Tori on his side without considering the personal cost. Now, he and Tori would be dancing around each other with that betrayal between them, even if Tori forgave him. Blake didn't understand how Tori and the others could forgive him. After all, Hunter hadn't been as ruthless in the one on one encounters, had only protected his brother's back as only a brother could. Blake had forgotten everything beyond his personal need.
Blake had no desire to attack Lothor now, knowing what revenge would bring. He also didn't want to leave Tori and the others to fight alone. He opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings; what do I fight for? He thought.
"Hey, you ok?" Hunter said, appearing beside Blake with the stealth only a ninja could enjoy.
"Hunter, if we go back and fight," Blake said, "what will you fight for?"
Hunter smiled crookedly, "It's amazing that this bench survived intact," he said, kneeling down beside it. "Everything else is gone, yet this bench stands unmarked." He ran a hand over part of it, "The bench tells people that once there was a place here. It doesn't say what kind of place, grand and sprawling, tiny and cozy. It says 'Man was here'. Yet all it is is the voice of a memory. 'Man was here'. It does not say 'Man will return', it can't; for it is a symbol of what was. The bike shed promises return; there are tools, worn by expert hands, and bikes, waiting to be ridden. They say 'Man will come'. There are dents and dings on the bikes, scuffs on the tools, all say 'I am loved and Man will return'. Yet neither says 'Man is here'. They tell what was, and what will be, and never what is." Hunter stood, placed one foot on the bench and leaned on the bent knee. "I fight so that 'what will be' will be here one day. I fight for those who cannot, through spell and trickery, fight for themselves. I fight, because this bench should not be the sole memorial to the Thunder Academy. The Ninja World should not come here and say 'Man was here'. They should come and say, 'Man is here'."
Blake blinked, "Ok, so you want to be like the shed?" He asked.
Hunter laughed, "No, Blake. I fight for the ninjas, so that they, too, can come home."
Blake nodded, understanding dawning on his face. "I understand." He hesitated, "I don't know what to fight for, Hunter. I mean, I can't just leave Tori and the others to fight Lothor alone, and if you go back, I'm going back."
"Fight for us," Hunter said, all laughter gone, "Fight for your family. Maybe, fight for redemption in yourself. Blake, we're not so good with family, me especially. You, well, you'll draw them right in, and you'll take me along with." He stared away, his blue eyes unfocused, "Fight for the family you will have, for a daughter with blond hair and a ready laugh, a son who finds his future on the track."
Blake didn't breath; Hunter's sensitivity to the Ninja Elements sometimes gave him the ability to see what was coming. It wasn't often that Hunter Looked, but the sensation it evoked in Blake wouldn't fade, even if he saw Hunter do it every day. A bird, however, broke the mood with a cry of 'Intruder'.
Hunter shook his head, "I did it again, huh."
"Yeah," Blake said. "I'm going to have kids."
Hunter laughed and clapped Blake on his shoulder, "You and Tori, with the two point five kids, dog and picket fence. Your bike came through all right, want to check it out?"
Blake grinned at the memory of his birthday, and the special gift from Hunter. "Race you," he offered, and was off the bench before Hunter could respond.
