Chapter Text
Zane paid attention to his team. It made sense - he was a computer. He might not always understand social cues, or the ninjas’ humor, or sarcasm, but he could track when each of his teammates last ate or slept, down to the millisecond.
The computer side of him could track the information, and the human side of him - the side that the master of ice’s power had attached itself to - could do something about it.
Normally, they had a good system: Kai bullied Nya and Lloyd into taking care of themselves, Nya bullied Kai and Jay, Jay and Cole bullied each other, and Cole, Wu, and Zane bullied basically everyone else wherever there was slack to pick up.
Morro threw a bit of a wrench into the routine. Theoretically, Lloyd was the one bullying him into basic self-care, but… without the threat of a villain in the way, Lloyd and Morro’s relationship had entered a weird adjustment period. Where before, Lloyd had a time crunch to worry about that gave him the motivation to confront Morro’s self-destructive habits, now he tended to give space when he got pushback.
Morro was training with them, he had to be part of the team, which is something he’d never had to do before. Lloyd, for as capable as he was, had never dealt with a teammate he hadn’t grown up knowing.
So they were both careful around each other. They were trying, but they were unsure. Zane did not want to leave another responsibility to him by default at the moment.
Wu would be the next obvious choice, but Morro had technically lived with Wu longer than all of them, so he was good at avoiding him when he did not want to be found. Zane could always figure out where he was hiding and sic Wu on him anyway, but their relationship was also on the mends. He did not want to jeopardize that.
Cole would do it if Zane mentioned it, but Morro avoided Cole more than he avoided Kai, so Zane struck the idea down immediately. He supposed that left it to him.
It’s not that he had an aversion to helping Morro, per say, but he did not know him well enough to know how to approach it. Should he try subtlety, or a direct confrontation? Should he call Morro out when he lied about having just eaten, or let it happen and make him something anyway?
He did not have enough data.
But Morro did not have enough hiding spots to stop him from collecting it.
“Go away, Frostbite,” Morro’s voice called before he could even see him in the crow’s nest.
Zane paused but kept climbing. Luckily, Morro did not run when he sat down next to him.
“How did you know it was me?” he asked.
Morro scoffed and flicked a hand dismissively. “You don’t breathe as much.”
Huh. Zane had never actively noticed that, but searching his memory proved it to be true. He breathed, but not enough for a human. Why did he need to breathe? He pushed the thought aside.
“How did you know that, though?” he said.
Morro finally turned to look at him, and Zane would have counted that as a victory if he wasn’t scowling fiercely. “What do you want?”
Press or drop? The answer to this was clear - it was not what he came for, so best to drop it for now.
“According to my database, you have not eaten anything in fifteen-point-two hours.”
“So?”
Zane blinked and tilted his head. “So, a healthy diet for someone your age requires eating around three times in that period.”
Morro rolled his eyes and turned back to look at the sky. “Not gonna happen. Leave me alone.”
Direct statement of the problem failed. He figured that would be the case, but it didn’t hurt to try. He frowned and thought. The carrot-and-stick approach usually worked for the other ninja, but he had to phrase it in a way Morro wouldn’t dismiss him again.
“I’ll leave you alone if you eat something,” he offered. “And tell the others to give you space.”
Morro didn’t look over at Zane, but he did press his mouth into a thin line as he considered. Zane waited quietly for his answer.
Come to think of it, Morro had not slept in twenty-three-point-six hours, and he had not showered in thirty-point-nine hours. Granted, Zane did see him drink a water bottle an hour ago, so at least he wasn’t a complete hot mess. Jeez, he really had his work cut out for him.
Eventually, Morro gave a long sigh. “Fine.”
He stood, and Zane hurried to follow. Instead of climbing down, Morro jumped. Zane was lucky he was used to it at that point, or else his processor might have shut down.
Morro stuffed his hands into his pockets as he waited for Zane to clamber after him.
“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbled. “I can take care of myself.”
Zane tilted his head and started towards the kitchen. When Morro followed, he answered, “I never said you couldn’t. But… well, I mean no offense, but you are still dealing with a lot right now. It is normal to lean on others for support.”
Zane didn’t turn to look, but he heard a quiet, “Whatever.”
He kept an ear trained behind him to make sure Morro was still following as he made his way to the kitchen. Thank FSM, there was no one else in there. He didn’t want to find out how difficult it would be to convince Morro to eat after he witnessed Jay making a peanut-butter-potato-chip monstrosity.
Morro slid into a seat, glaring at the table. The hard part was technically over, but Zane was struck with another troubling realization: he didn’t know what Morro liked. He had a literal database in his head of every teammate’s likes and dislikes, but the Morro row was bare bones.
The almost immediate doctor visit revealed he was allergic to an ingredient used in some embalming fluids - ironically - but nothing food-wise. He tolerated fiber bars, but it seemed as if he simply hated those less than everything else.
He grabbed one anyway and set it in front of him. Morro sighed, but unwrapped it and shoved about half of it into his mouth.
Zane sat down next to him. “I would make something, but I realized I do not have your preferences.”
“Don’t have any,” Morro replied, mouth full. He swallowed and narrowed his eyes. Pointing the half of the fiber bar at him, he said, “I also distinctly remember you saying you’d piss off.”
Zane nodded sagely. “I did say that. Very well. I will go inform Wu and the others that you have eaten one fiber bar today and thus wish to be left alone.”
Morro blinked, gaping for a moment, then narrowed his eyes further. “You son of a bitch.”
Zane blinked as innocently as he could. It did not work on his brothers anymore, and he suspected it was not working on Morro either. “Pardon?”
Morro groaned and let his head fall on the table. “I’m too tired for this. What will it take for you to keep your big mouth shut?”
Zane impressed even himself sometimes. Although, he made a note to schedule difficult conversations with Morro for when he was tired. He was much more cooperative than he was normally.
“You need to eat more consistently, Morro. Fasting like this will lead to a multitude of health issues. It can cause poor concentration, and feeling weak and tired all the time, among other things.”
Morro tilted his head and blew some of his hair out of his face so he could glare at Zane more effectively. Zane stared back, impassive.
Implicitly challenging a nindroid to a staring contest always ended with a bitter loss, but Morro had not learned that lesson yet. He was a quick study, thankfully, and turned his head the other way so he wasn’t facing Zane at all.
“It’s none of your business.”
“In fact, it is,” Zane insisted. “Ensuring the health and safety of the team is my duty more often than not.”
Morro jerked up and slammed his hands on the table. “Well, no one asked! Why can’t you just drop it? I can’t-” He cut himself off abruptly.
Zane blinked. “Can’t what?”
Morro’s mouth opened, then closed, again and again. Open. Close. Open. Close. Then, finally, “Leave me alone.”
He stormed off towards the door.
No! He was so close. Zane jumped up. “Morro, wait!” He didn’t want to grab him, or make him feel trapped. He wasn’t close to Morro like he was to the other ninja. All he knew is that he didn’t like being touched. He didn’t have nearly enough data. Why did he think he was the person for this? “Please! Don’t leave!”
To his surprise, Morro stopped. He silently thanked FSM as he took a careful step towards him. “Please, I just want to understand. Can’t what?”
Morro stayed frozen, facing the door, fists clenched at his sides. He looked ready to bolt, so Zane stayed as still as he could.
After an agonizingly long minute, the tension in Morro’s shoulders wilted. “I just… can’t.”
Zane considered him, then inched forward slowly, like he was approaching a skittish stray dog. Morro turned his face away as soon as it was in view, hiding behind his hair.
“Can’t eat?” He probed gently.
Morro nodded slowly.
“But you are hungry?”
Another nod.
Zane wanted to kick himself. When Cole had gotten his body back, he’d had issues getting back into the habits of having one. But the one thing he hadn’t told anyone was his aversion to cake . Zane had only noticed by accident, and when confronted, Cole had confessed it was too sweet for him. Eventually, he’d readjusted and happily resumed, but Morro hadn’t had a body for forty years .
“I see,” he said neutrally. “Will you sit again? Please?”
Morro sighed but complied, resting his head on his arms and absentmindedly flicking at the wood.
Zane checked the cabinet again. While they all ate dinner together, each ninja ate lunch when they felt like it. Jay and Nya, however, often skipped it when they were focused on a project. Borg had gifted them a box of high-tech meal replacers, just to get them the nutrients they needed when they couldn’t make something.
It wasn’t as good as a real meal, but it was much better than nothing.
There! The meal replacers came in a few different flavors, including “flavorless.” Neither Jay nor Nya drank them, so they were stored behind all the chocolate and strawberry ones. He grabbed one, checked the expiration date, and gave the cabinet another scan.
Something else too. Something with little to no flavor. Something with a texture closer to fiber bars.
The closest they had was a can of peanuts, so they’d have to do.
Zane opened the lid. Lloyd didn’t pull the snake-in-the-peanuts prank often anymore, but the last thing he wanted was to traumatize Morro away from peanuts like Jay was.
He set both in front of Morro. He didn’t move, but Zane saw his eyes flicking back and forth as he read the label on the meal replacer.
“Sensory issues with food are very common,” Zane said. “It’s no trouble to get food for you that will not aggravate those issues.”
Morro scowled. He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it.
“If I had to guess, you prefer dry, crunchy foods, correct?”
Morro fixed his stare on the floor for a long time, then - finally - a nod.
“Too much flavor is bad too, correct?” Another nod. “I’ll start preparing a meal plan. When you’re ready, we can start working our way to more variety, but for now I just want you to eat at least two solid meals a day.” He tapped the top of the bottle. “These are flavorless. They can give you the nutrients you need if you can’t eat.”
Morro hunched his shoulders. “You don’t have to do all this,” he sighed. “I’ll figure it out.”
Zane paused. That was right. Morro had never been a part of a team before. He doubted the Preeminent was considerate of his needs. And even if she was, he really doubted that it came with no strings attached.
“Ninja stick together,” he said, trying to be reassuring without sounding like he was pitying him.
Morro didn’t say anything to that, so Zane pushed the bottle closer to him.
Eventually, he reached for it, popped the top off, and took a swig.
He grimaced a little, but took another sip. Zane counted that as a win.