Roots of Earth ~ A Ninjago Fanfiction

Chapter 115: Always Gold

Everyone was surprised when, upon their return to the teashop, the building was already in process of being rebuilt. Apparently some kindly neighbors had taken it upon themselves to clear away the rubble and bring in new timber, equipment, and even some furniture from charity. By the time the ninja returned from their harrowing mission, no one could have guessed a fire had threatened to eat up the place weeks before. Construction was nearly finished by the time they arrived. Wu thanked the neighbors gratefully and offered to pay them for their trouble, but they all refused cheerfully, claiming that it was the least they could do for the saviors of Ninjago.

Cole didn't feel like a savior.

Wounds magically healed, the ninja moved back into the teashop. As they shuffled in Jay could be heard saying, "I still miss the monastery, but it's great having my own space again."

"Don't get too comfortable, ninja," Wu called sharply. "I promised Dr. Saunders you would all stop by the museum to clean up next week. There is still leftover damage from the Day of the Departed debacle, and they plan to reopen the museum soon."

A chorus of groans were the response, followed by Jay snorting, "'Day of the Departed debacle'. Try saying that three times fast." He elbowed Cole. "DayoftheDeparteddebacleDayoftheDeparteddebacle—"

Cole jostled Jay aside and left his friends staring anxiously after him. Kai looked bemused. "What's his problem?"

* * *

That evening Zane found Cole sitting at the riverbank that wound behind the teashop. He'd cast aside his half-shredded uniform for sweat pants and a dark hoodie. His bare feet dangled in the water. It must have been cold, but he hardly seemed to notice.

Moving quietly, Zane seated himself beside Cole and pulled off his boots neatly. His titanium feet glimmered in the evening light. "This is a good place for meditation. I sense Master Wu will soon be ordering all of us to meditate twice as much as previously. Wounds of the heart and mind are much harder to heal than wounds of flesh."

Cole grunted. "You'd know a lot about flesh, huh?"

Undeterred, Zane wore a slight smile as he dipped his toes on the surface of the stream. Water froze where his toes dipped, creating tiny frozen discs. They floated off and soon melted away.

"Care to talk about it?" he asked.

"Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about."

"It could not hurt to try."

"Talking doesn't bring dead people back to life, Zane."

"But—"

Cole kicked the water, splashing himself and his friend. "It doesn't matter! I don't care! I don't care." Inhaling slowly, he muttered, "I— I'm sorry. I just..."

He stared at the water. Sunlight reflected off its surface in blinding glitters. Autumn leaves sailed by, at the mercy of the slow-moving tide. He felt as if he were one of those leaves: half-sinking, half-floating, just barely keeping his head above water. It was a depressing sensation.

"I don't want anyone to talk about them," he heard himself say. "About Liana, or Eagle Talon, or— or Black Blood. I don't ever want to hear those names again."

"Cole." An icy hand gripped his shoulder. "You don't mean that."

"Maybe not later. For now—for a long time—I do mean it." He took a deep breath and shuddered. "I don't want to think about them. I just want to keep going. To get back to work, to training—anything that'll keep my mind off all this. So I can get over it."