Here it goes: my first character x reader oneshot. This makes me a little nervous, but hopefully since I can successfully write other types of oneshots, I can write this, right? As per the combined request of Chickengirl250 and Theblackorb9, I will be writing about Morro, our favorite villainous windy boi.
Setting: Outskirts of Ninjago City (forested/mountainous), late at night, after events of Season 5
~~~
It didn't take a ninja to tell that something was off about him. The slight, telltale limp of someone too exhausted to properly carry themselves pronounced each and every step the boy took. The boy in question, or rather, young man, had been the victim of an unfortunate twist of fate. That was what the darkness weighing under his eyes was enough to tell.
The outskirts of Ninjago City were themselves beat down and broken, occupied by the rare few who were overwhelmed by the bustling crowds and attractions not too far away. In contrast to the unrelenting desert that stretched along much of the city, lay a tangle of wood and stone, where mountains and towering trees alike converged.
This, the weary figure had decided, would have to do. Plenty of shelter, while keeping uncomfortable interactions to a minimum. Still, the view provided by one of the green-swathed cliffs was one looking down into the city. The city full of people, people full of energy.
The figure grumbles, flicking an annoyed hand out of the cloak he wore to investigate a patch of ground. His back turned and focus diverted elsewhere, it did not take any level of stealth, practiced or otherwise, to creep up behind.
You stare at the crouched figure apprehensively, prepared to run should his investigation cease and his attention stray. The most mysterious part of this intruder, you decide, is his mannerisms. Sharp eyes scan every detail, but the figure's stance remains relaxed, familiar even.
How long is he going to spend moping around some trees and bushes, anyway? You shift impatiently to the other foot. Hopefully not much longer. In any case, I can't figure out why he would come here of all places.
A moment after the thought crosses your mind, the figure rises, movements flowing swiftly into one another, while still pushing him upright in an instant. He tilts his head towards the stars as though consulting them with a question he is unable to answer himself. However, you are instantly aware of his alert stance, even before his questing eyes brush past your nearby hiding place.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no—
"Who goes there?"
You pause in your silent retreat, surprise and curiosity pulsing through you. With the darkness provided by the night, you cannot see very much of the stranger. His voice, however, is far younger and brash than you expected.
Whoever he is, I have a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't be happy to find me here.
With that worried thought, you creep backwards into the heavier undergrowth, pulling your jacket closer around you as it threatens to brush against the branches of greenery. Darkness pressing in, you close your eyes, desperately attempting to slow your ragged breathing.
I'm so stupid. Stupid me, stupid condition, stupid lungs that can't hold enough air.
The figure slowly stalks towards you, cocking his head to the side. Attentive. Watchful. And all too likely to hear any movement from you at such a close distance. Only a dozen more steps, and he would come across the poorly hidden individual he searched for.
"I'm not angry. And I certainly don't think I'm that scary." A pause as he emits what seems to be a rueful sigh. "In fact, I'm not all that scary even when I am trying."
The air stills even more, dead silence wrapping around the entire scene. Not a cold, tense silence, you notice. Still, you refrain from speaking, the words still trapped in your throat.
The boy, for his part, seems just as nervous. At least, he does from the vague fidgeting of his hands along the cuffs of his sleeves, easily recognizable even in the dark. Easily recognizable because you yourself understand that anxious, lonely, broken stance.
The bubble of silence eventually pops, allowing the stars to shine once more and the crickets to chorus a rickety melody in the background. Yet, as carefully as you listen, the wind no longer plays its howling tune.
"I thought someone curious enough to come this far and watch me would have shown themselves. I guess I was wrong."
Your heart clenches inside your chest for reasons you can't quite grasp. Perhaps because this was not the first not anywhere near the only time you had proved others wrong. And, quite often, proved yourself wrong. Fingernails digging into a clenched fist, your breathing begins to speed up once more, blood flowing to paint your face red with shame.
I guess he's right. I'm such a coward. I don't want to be, but... You watch wide eyed as the young man turns to leave. But I don't want to be.
"Wait."
The retreating figure stops, his back still towards you. He tilts his head to the side, as though contemplating whether or not to listen to the frail voice that suddenly wafted through the air behind him.
"Yes?"
"You were right. I did come here." You pause to catch a shaky breath, gradually pushing yourself against a tree. Your legs shake as you inhale deeply, desperately trying to form more words. "And I'm not afraid of you."
Finally, after an eternal pause, he turns towards you. The black sky above, however, prevents more than the vague shape of him from being seen. You squint your eyes slightly, more intent than ever at discovering who this mysterious individual was. Especially after he decided to insult you so directly.
"Hm. Well, I'm not sure you shouldn't be afraid of me. But I would hope that you wouldn't... wouldn't hate me." He looks down at the ground after blurting out the final breath of his sentence.
Hate him? Why in Ninjago would I have a reason to hate him? I mean, I don't know anything about him, but he seems to alienate himself almost as I do with me.
"I'm certain I wouldn't—"
"No. You probably can't tell from there, but I'm not exactly a welcome sight." Then, almost a whisper on the breeze: "Even to those I care about most. Especially them."
You shiver, lungs tightening in a familiar sensation. Those words were painfully familiar, more so than even the others that the stranger had already spoken. Too familiar for one who had been cast aside for everything about her, from her defects to her very existence. You can't help but stare in frozen shock at this stranger, who, has apparently been broken in the same way, whatever his story.
"Is something wrong? I can't even hear you breathing. And I must say, you weren't very quiet with even that earlier."
He steps closer, peering into the shadows that surrounded you. Unable to see you choking on nothingness, or the paleness of your face as the air escaped you. And of course, only you could see the darkness encroaching your vision.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
If you were more conscious, you might register more clearly the unusual concern clear in the boy's voice. Instead, you struggle not to collapse as your body fought itself. Briefly emitting a strangled gasp, you stumble forward, towards the clearing only a few steps away.
I'm not going to make it, you realize sadly. Surprisingly, the vague notion that you could die does not panic or even concern you. Instead, you slip into a sea of regret for what and who you could never be, even as you think, I wonder if I would have ever been able to change.
Wincing at the pain searing your skull, you open your eyes. The star scattered sky still hangs above you, a glimmer of hope in contrast to the grief that weighs down both your heart and your weakened body. After a hitch of your breath, you notice breathing is suddenly much easier. Maybe the stars do have a reason to show a glint of hope after all.
Wait. The stars? Didn't I collapse after my fit, like I usually do? What happened to the trees?
You struggle against your instincts, begging you to bolt upright. That would only bring back the oft recurring, occasionally life threatening aspect of your condition. That would only cause your breath to be stolen from you. So, you cautiously push yourself to sitting position using your arms. And promptly discover that for all your efforts, your breath is taken away anyways.
The stranger, suddenly no longer an enigma, sits only a short ways away, facing you. Except that, even with his mysterious appearance, he is far different than what you expected. For one thing, an ethereal, greenish glow surrounds the edges of his body. His body, which you can somewhat see through. And secondly, although equally striking, is every other aspect of his appearance, now close enough to be examined even with the barest traces of light. Allowing you to take in the ebony hair framing his equally dark eyes, and the slender yet powerful build of his body.
"I'm going to assume from the way you're staring at me that you're wide awake now. And I'm also quite certain that you'll be taking back your words, about how I'm not all that bad." He chuckles darkly. "Because I'm not, I'm far worse."
You shake your head fiercely, meeting his eyes in time to see one of his eyebrows arch at your reaction. "No, not really. I guess I just wasn't expecting a ghost."
Still obviously skeptical, he uncrosses his legs and stands up. You, meanwhile, struggle not to react to his height either. While not extremely tall, you admit to yourself that his height certainly does complement his... striking build.
"Ah. Well, from the length of time you were staring at me, I wonder if there wasn't more than my status among the departed that caught your attention." The corners of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. "Although I definitely prefer your reaction over one of fear or anger."
You blush, silently thankful for the concealing dark surrounding the two of you. However, the boy has already turned to glance over his shoulder. To your surprise, you notice his gaze touch down on the same patch of ground he had intently examined earlier.
"Anyways," you hurriedly say, hoping to distract his attention before he could make any further, awkward observations, "What exactly are you doing here? You looked really tired at first, but then it was almost like you were... searching for something."
The boy freezes, head turned away and locks of dark hair masking his face. Apparently choosing to ignore your question entirely, he begins to move his hand side to side in some foreign motion.
"Well?" You cross your arms, ignoring the still rapid beating of your heart.
"I don't believe any of that is your business," he responds coolly, finally meeting your eyes again.
An involuntary shiver wracks your frame, shaking your entire body with a frisson of nervousness. Even from those few words, your lungs are already tightening again, threatening to cut off your air supply. Until to your amazement, the young man in front of you continues to speak.
"Although, it wouldn't really hurt to tell you either. As you can see, I'm clearly not from this realm?"
"Realm?" you question, now more relaxed and certainly engaged, albeit puzzled.
He sighs, clearly aggravated at your civilian ignorance. "Look, Ninjago is one of sixteen unique realms, which are all somewhat connected to each other. I've been to a few of them, if only briefly, but many of them remain unknown to anyone on the face of Ninjago. However, those slight connections between the realms mean they are still intertwined, thus allowing them to interact with and affect each other, for better or for worse."
At the sudden, expectant pause, you nod your head in understanding.
"Well, the realms each work differently, but some, such as the Cursed Realm and the Departed Realm, have barriers more easily pushed through. I'm not sure, but it likely has something to do with being in a more undead, departed state. It is also only possible with a small enough being rather than one of great power."
"Aww, are you not a being of great power then?" you tease, stifling laughter at the indignant expression on the ghost's face. "Guess you were right, ghosts aren't all that scary after all."
"I'm powerful enough," he snaps. "And before you go and get yourself into trouble with that mindset, ghosts are dangerous. There are plenty of unpleasant ones who would give you grief without insulting them." The tone of voice edging his last words is in no way settle.
Suddenly ashamed, you feel your face burning once more. "I'm sorry, I just needed to break the seriousness of what you were saying. I don't always enjoy focusing on the idea of those more unpleasant characters being able to get into Ninjago, and I suppose my terrible sense of humor serves as a defense mechanism."
He nods calmly, immediately more accepting at your explanation. "You're fine. Now, while crossing some of the realms unaided by a powerful artifact is possible, it can also take a bit of a physical toll, even for someone who's technically already dead."
"Oh! That's why you're so tired!" you exclaim, sitting up straighter.
Nodding yet again, the young man's eyes flicker to the patch of ground behind him. "And as for what's so special about that piece of the ground... I suppose it won't hurt to show you. Come on."
Somewhat satisfied by the sudden flow of answers, you stand slowly, prepared to follow. Your troubles breathing, however, apparently dissipated as your fears eased over the course of your conversation.
A conversation with a ghost. Who knew? At least it beats being treated like an outsider, and it's anything but boring.
Clearing away the other thoughts that threatened to diverge from those ones, you notice that the boy is waiting expectantly for you to follow. Dashing to where he stands, you frown at the ground. It appears completely normal, and undisturbed, with a smooth carpet of grass transitioning perfectly across it from the rest of the ground.
"Did you hide something here?"
"Something like that, yes," he offers, leaning down to touch the soil.
Eyes wide in amazement, you stare as he reaches not only into, but through the earth, hands disappearing as though plunged into a murky pool. Then, as he retrieves the object with the slightest bit more difficulty, the ground remains nearly just as undisturbed, except for the sunk in patch where its contents no longer support the dirt above.
"How—how did you—" you stammer out, flabbergasted.
With a nonchalant shrug, he tosses the object up in the air before catching it. "Oh, just a ghost thing."
"That's amazing!" you gush. "You must be powerful after all, if ghosts can just do things like that! Do all ghosts do that kind of thing?"
The young man allows a small smile to creep onto his face at your compliments. "That's something that pretty much all ghosts can manage, although I do have plenty of other abilities that are more... unique. Which brings us to this."
With a slight flourish, he holds aloft the object he uncovered: a quite old, yet in quite beautiful condition, scroll. He quickly unrolls it, appraising it with a quick glance as though to ensure that it contains the desired content.
"Does that have something to do with your abilities, then?" you question, standing on your toes in an effort to get a glimpse of the scroll from over his shoulder.
"Yep. One of my favorites, to be exact. I might even show it to you." Hesitating, he looks at your face before immediately returning his attention to the scroll.
"What? Is something wrong?" You sigh, stepping back slightly. "I get it. If you don't really want to show me, that's alright," you tell him quickly. "I already have plenty of people who don't enjoy sharing with me, so don't worry, I'm used to it and I understand. Especially since we're still kind of strangers."
Now his entire attention shifts to you as you go silent, staring up at the stars to hide the vague pooling of tears in your eyes. Unnoticed by you, his face softens some, having spoken something similar about himself more times than could be counted.
"No, you're alright. I want to share it with you. It's my choice. And ignore what anyone else says, your worth doesn't lie in being like others." His words are almost carried away on the sudden breeze, so quietly they were whispered.
You stop in your tracks, staring wide eyed at the stranger, appearing somehow more mysterious than the moment you first laid eyes on him. "How can you tell? All I said was that I was used to being ignored."
He sighs, picking at the fraying edge of the cloth draped around his ghostly shoulders. "Being alienated, or even hated, takes on a variety of forms. But it's all connected, and it's all the same." Clearing his throat, the boy holds out the scroll. "I'll show you what I learned from this scroll, but first I would like to try something else."
You step closer to him once more, eager to find what other exciting powers the ghost has. "More secret abilities that aren't from the scroll?"
"Heh. Something like that." He mumbles the next part under his breath, so softly that you strain your ears in order to hear it. "Although only a student of my particular training could probably accomplish it."
Student? Was he taught by someone before he died? That must be how he learned at least some of these abilities he keeps going on about. If their really that amazing, he must have had an amazing teacher.
"So," he continues awkwardly. "I'm going to need to take your hand for this. Um. That is, if you're comfortable. Only if you're comfortable."
You can't help but smile at his embarrassment. "As long as you don't do anything scary or painful."
"Oh, don't worry," he quickly assures you. "It won't hurt at all. I just need to test something."
Nervously, you step forward, allowing your smaller hands to be swept up in his. His warm, slender, strong hands. He hums slightly, appearing at least for the moment to be oblivious to the heat pooling in your face. Moments pile on top of moments, until a sudden tingle rushes through your veins, bringing a sudden rush of adrenaline.
"Alright, we're done," the ghost informs you gently, pulling his own hands away.
You rub your still-tingling hands together, heart pounding a thousand beats a minute. Fortunately, your breath wasn't entirely taken away this time, although your eyes continue to wander to the dark pair across from you.
"Wh-what happened?" you manage, just as confused as you are flustered. "Did it work? What were you testing?"
"You'll see," the young man simply replies. "And now, a demonstration of one of my favorite techniques."
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he launches up from the ground, settling onto a branch high up in a nearby tree. The wind picks up considerably as he does so, carrying his laughter to where you stand below, watching the display in awe. Before you can open your mouth to speak, however, he leaps back down, slowing before his feet touch the ground as wind rushes in a circular motion beneath him.
"It's called air-jutsu," he informs you, suppressing a grin of delight. "And it's not the only thing I've learned. I'm also an elemental master."
With a flourish of his hand, the air around you swooshes upward, nearly carrying you with it. The silence of the night is replaced with the howl of a fierce gale, and leaves from the surrounding trees dance around you, floating gently despite the persistent gusts.
"The Master of Wind," you guess, gaping mouth framing the soft whisper.
The boy nods, still apparently giddy with the rush of freedom. "My name is Morro. I guess I got so caught up in our conversation earlier that I forgot to introduce myself." He finishes the sentence carefully, the air heavy with an unasked question.
"My name is Y/n," you tell him.
"Hm. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." A teasing smirk paints his strikingly handsome face.
Before you can pull yourself out of a blushing mess, he bursts into the air once more, slowly riding the wind back down to settle on one of the lower branches. His feet barely touch down, however, before once again propelling him to the sky. Eventually, he lands in front of you, the rushing wind finally slowing some.
"Now it's your turn."
Your eyes widen. "My turn? What do you mean?"
"It doesn't take an elemental to learn air-jutsu. Only a scroll. Or a good teacher. And a bit of dedication," he informs you.
Speechless, you shake your head in disbelief, searching for the words to respond. "Well, at least I have two out of three. But I'll need to figure out where to find a good teacher."
Now it's Morro's turn to gape at your bold words. His shock quickly melts away, though, as a wicked grin replaces it.
"Alright, let's find out just how good a teacher I can be."
You laugh, a thrill of excitement rushing through you as your challenge is accepted. For a ghost, your companion isn't bad at all.
"Let's find out if it's as easy breezy as you make it look, Master of Wind."