He was going to come back.

Sensei knew that his pupil was angry, he saw the rage and betrayal burning in his student's eyes. It's been two weeks and there's been no sign of his protege. But Sensei had to have faith that Morro would return, that he could apologize and things could go back to normal....

As the son of the first Spinjitzu Master watched the sun set and the moon begin its upward ascent, he told himself that soon, Morro would return. He would return, before the hoot owls began to sing their eerie song. As the wind began to dance and play with the few trees that littered the mountaintop, his student would make his way up the stone steps. Perhaps he would stand tall, his head held high. Or perhaps he would stumble along, limping and clutching at an injury. Either way, before the twilight had diminished and night began its reign, he would return....

The sun winked and bade its last good-bye. The hoot owls stirred from their nests and began to rejoice. The wind rustled a few leaves, swirling them around for a few seconds before setting them down gently to find another dance partner.

Another day had gone by.

Another day in which Morro did not return. 

Another day....

Sensei sighed and made his way back inside the monastery. As much as he would like to wait a few more hours, the nights got cold and--though he was loathe to admit it--he was not as young as he used to be. A chill had seeped into his bones and remained there for several days now, slinking and slithering up and down his body, sometimes coming to rest inside his stomach...

Perhaps it was just too many nights spent waiting up for his student to return. Perhaps it was the dread that some terrible fate had befallen him...

Sensei could not tell.

(or perhaps, he just refused to acknowledge the truth....)

He went to his room and selected a few incense sticks, a couple simply for their therapeutic scent, most for their vision-inducing properties. He lit them, put them in their proper places, and sat on his favorite mat. 

And he waited. And he meditated. 

He could not force the visions, no matter how much he might want to. They appeared randomly, and even then, sometimes the information they provided was not useful (or, at least, not yet useful). He simply had to wait....and hope...

There had been no visions for the past week.

Tonight was different.

Smoke swirled and filled his mind's eye, misty images slowly forming from the smog. The scene they created was familiar and even though the visions did not have sound, Sensei could clearly hear what was being said.

How could he not? He had experienced this event two weeks ago.

A heavy weight settled in Sensei's chest as he watched a smoky image of Morro--his protege, his student, his pupil--yell at him, fury evident in his face, made of smoke as it was. He remembered the argument that had started it, the moment that had begun this terrible cycle of waiting, waiting, waiting...

He watched himself shake his head, knowing--remembering--how he had sorrowfully told his pupil that he had made a grave mistake. 

He told Morro, the student who had been training for over half of his life, that the event he was training for would never come to pass.

He told Morro that he was not the Green Ninja.

Eyes still closed, Sensei cringed as he watched the phantom image of Morro shout back, remembering the rage, the bitterness, the utter betrayal in his voice. He had screamed that he would prove Sensei wrong, that he wouldn't rest until he proved he was the Green Ninja.

The image faded, but Sensei still remembered what had happened.

Morro had stormed out of the monastery and down the mountain. He had followed until the edge of the mountaintop before pausing, torn between following his angry student and simply waiting for tempers to cool and for Morro's senses to return.

He chose to do the latter and went back in the monastery.

And he waited....waited....

The smoke shifted and Sensei tensed when he realized the vision wasn't yet over. The smog reformed, forming the entrance of a cave, yawning widely before him. Standing before it, fists clenched (in fear? in rage? in determination?) was Morro. 

At first Sensei was confused. Why was Morro here? And where was he?

The smoke in his mind's eye shifted, expanding, twirling, folding itself into a landscape....a familiar landscape....

The cold sensation was back in his stomach. No....

Morro could not be there. He shouldn't be there, it was too dangerous, too well-hidden, Sensei had been sure he had destroyed all of the scrolls pointing to this place, how had his student found this place.

Don't go in there, he wanted to shout, wanted to scream. Please, don't go in there. Come back, you don't have to prove anything. Come back...

His student hesitated for a moment, and Sensei had hope...

Then, Morro took a step towards the gaping entrance of the cave...and the smoke shifted yet again.

His pupil was on the ground, his smoky form shaking as he coughed harshly. Behind him, thick red-orange smog slowly inched its way towards him, wisps of black smoke rising off of it.

Ice chilled Sensei's body. No...no, no please....

He begged and pleaded in his mind for a miracle, that his pupil would find the strength to get up, that he would be able to run and get away, that he would be alright, that he could come home...

The lava--for that was what the red smoke was, because his student was trying to find the tomb of The First Spinjitzu Master, because the tomb was located deep in the Caves of Despair, because he knew that several of the tunnels that made up the caves were old lava tunnels and still had molten rock in them--began to crest, forming a terrifying wave that towered over his fallen student.

Morro finally gained the strength to sit up. He turned to face the wave, the slits that made up his eyes widening in terror.

The wave fell.

The vision began to fade, the image of Morro silently screaming the last to vanish.

Sensei opened his eyes, a light gasp escaping from his lips. He stared ahead of him in shock, denying what he had just seen, denying that Morro was---that his precious pupil had--

But his visions had never been wrong before.

A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, sliding down his cheek before gravity took effect and it fell onto the floor. A second soon join it, followed quickly by a third and fourth. They quickly began innumerable as Sensei began to sob, to cry and scream. He raged--raged at Fate for not being fair, raged at Nature for stealing his student, raged at himself because he should have been there, he should have stopped Morro, he shouldn't have waited, he shouldn't have gotten his student's hopes up before cruelly destroying them--

But no amount of rage, no amount of regret, no amount of grief, could change what had happened.

His pupil was gone.

And Sensei was to blame.

~~~~~~~

....okay, I have NO CLUE where the heck this came from. 

Well, okay, I kinda know what happened: I was doing homework, feeling nostalgic and listening to "Lullaby for a Princess" (....I went through an MLP phase in middle school, sue me -_-) when I suddenly started thinking about My Best Friend's a Ghost and how Sensei would have found out about Morro's death and how he would have reacted, and then....I just started writing.

Ehehehe....sorry if I made you cry??? *hands out tissues* 

Reviews are nice. They tell me if I'm doing okay or if I made a terrible mistake, lol.