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The wind had been howling for hours. Not even wind anymore—just sand, moving in endless waves, scraping against every surface, filling every inhalation. It ground against their goggles, rubbed between teeth, and clung to hair. The desert had swallowed the horizon; everything was the same muted red, a heat-radiating ocean stretching to infinity.
The little speeder they’d borrowed from Nya’s Samurai-X Cave coughed, sputtered, and died.
Kai yanked off his gloves and slammed the dashboard. “That’s it. She’s cooked.”
Jay coughed, brushing grit from his goggles. “Cooked as in—uh—‘needs a jump’ cooked or ‘we’re going to die out here’ cooked?”
Kai kicked the metal side of the speeder and hissed as heat seared through his boot. “And that’s just from the sun!”
Jay forced a grin. “Good thing one of us makes lightning.”
“Don’t you dare,” Kai snapped, pointing at him. “You’ve been sparking since we left Nya’s hideout. You’re running hot, and this heat isn’t helping.”
Jay shrugged, a twitch in his hand. “What choice do we have? The communicator’s dead, the water purifier’s shot, and if we don’t get this heap running, we’re baking under this oven.”
Kai looked out at the dunes, shimmering in the midday sun. “Then we wait till night.”
“And roast in the meantime? Hard pass.”
Jay held out a hand, blue arcs dancing from his fingers to the engine housing. The smell of ozone cut through the desert air. The speeder coughed once, then again, and finally the panel lights flickered to life.
Jay’s grin widened, though it faltered at the corners. “See? Works every time.”
Kai frowned. “You can’t keep doing that.”
Jay ignored him, crouched over the panel, whispering to himself, coaxing the sparks along. “Just need to—uh—stabilize the flow—”
The engine gave one last sputter and died again.
“Jay.” Kai’s voice was tight.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jay muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “No more zapping the speeder. Got it.”
His hands trembled slightly, and he felt it—the faint, relentless buzz inside his chest, the pull of electricity in his bones. He told himself it was nothing. He told himself he could handle it. He told himself anything to avoid showing Kai the fear creeping up in his own chest.
They set off on foot an hour later.
---
The sandstorm had retreated, but the sun had returned with vengeance. Jay felt every ray pressing into his shoulders, baking through his silver armor. He tried to joke, tried to keep pace, tried to keep moving, but even his feet felt heavy.
Kai kept glancing back, noting the slump in Jay’s shoulders. Normally, the lightning ninja moved like a spark—fast, restless, chattering to mask his thoughts. Now he trailed, quiet, fumbling with the communicator at his wrist as though its revival might tether him to the world.
Kai slowed until they were side by side. “How’s the voltage?”
Jay forced a smile. “Running on empty. I’ll just…solar charge or something.”
Kai’s brow arched. “That’s not how your powers work.”
Jay shrugged, shrugging off the heat that curled under his ribs. “Optimism, Kai. Look it up.”
The desert stretched endlessly before them. The air shimmered and danced, tricking the eye. Every step was effort. Jay’s fingers lingered over the communicator, hoping for some miracle, some spark that wasn’t his own body threatening to betray him.
Eventually, he stopped.
Kai turned. “Jay?”
Jay’s gaze was fixed on the purifier strapped to his pack. “If I could just get it working, we’d have water. You’re practically steaming.”
Kai laughed weakly, dry throat rasping. “I’m fine.”
Jay shook his head, already kneeling to pry the panel open. “No, you’re not. You’re a literal fire elemental in a desert. You’re basically evaporating. And we’re losing moisture by the second.”
“Jay—”
The static on his skin flared. He pressed his palms to the purifier. It clicked, buzzed, hummed softly. “See? Easy fix.”
Kai stared at him. “You’re frying yourself.”
Jay’s laugh was thin. “Lightning powers work different. It’s fine.”
He almost convinced himself.
---
By afternoon, the storm returned.
A distant hiss became a roar, and the sky turned copper. Jay barely saw it before Kai shoved him down behind a dune.
“Get low!”
The wind slammed into them. Sand bit through armor, scraped across exposed skin, invaded masks. Jay coughed, felt the electricity building under his skin again—restless, impatient, dangerous. Every spark of his power radiated heat back into him.
He pressed his palms to the purifier again. “If it breaks, we’re done. I have to keep the circuits stable—”
“Forget the purifier!” Kai shouted, the storm swallowing half his words. “We need shelter!”
“There isn’t any!”
Lightning flared along Jay’s arms before he could steady his anxiety, blue arcs splashing into the sand. For a moment, the desert froze around him. Then the storm hit harder.
Kai grabbed him, dragging him down and shielding him with his own body. The humor in Jay’s eyes vanished, replaced by sharp awareness: fear, exhaustion, and that familiar stubbornness.
“You don’t have to fix everything,” Kai said, voice raw. “You don’t have to save everything. We just have to make it till night.”
Jay looked away. “If I don’t fix it, who will?”
“You think I can’t?”
“I think you’ll burn up before you admit you’re overheating.”
Kai stared. The mirror was cruel—Jay was doing what Kai himself might do, if their powers and circumstances were different.
The storm passed slowly. The desert felt still, heavy, as though it was holding its breath. Kai’s throat burned as he spoke, tore a strip from his sleeve, dampened it with the small amount of water left from the purifier, and pressed it to Jay’s neck.
“Half for you,” he said quietly.
Jay pushed it back. “You take it.”
Kai glared. “Don’t start.”
“You need it more—”
“Jay.”
He drank, shaking, lips dry. He wanted to apologize for lying to Kai, for pretending to be fine, for putting them both at risk. But no words came.
Kai leaned back against the speeder. “Why do you always do that?”
“What?”
“Pretend you’re fine.”
Jay exhaled slowly. “Because if I’m not fine, someone else has to worry about me. And I don’t want that.”
Kai softened. “You’re not a burden.”
“Neither are you.”
They sat in silence as the sun fell behind the dunes. The desert cooled enough that each breath no longer felt like inhaling flame. Copper sky turned violet, and Jay let his head fall against his chest.
“Hey,” Kai nudged him gently. “Stay with me.”
“M’fine,” Jay muttered.
“Jay.”
No response.
Kai moved closer. Jay’s skin was warm, too warm, and the faint sparks danced on his fingertips like restless fire. Panic rose, but he forced himself to stay calm.
“Okay. Okay. You rest,” he whispered, mostly to himself.
For hours, he kept him cool, kept his body shaded, kept his thoughts anchored to him. Stars slowly crawled overhead, vast and indifferent.
When Jay woke, the soft crackle of a small fire reached him, and Kai’s low muttering.
“Thought I told you not to start fires in the middle of the desert,” he rasped.
“And yet here you are complaining instead of thanking me,” Kai said, half-smiling.
“How long was I out?”
“Long enough I considered dragging you back to the monastery myself.”
Jay sat up slowly. Muscles stiff, body cooler, breathing steadier. “Guess lightning and heat don’t mix after all.”
Kai handed him a water pouch. “Told you so.”
Jay drank, eyes meeting Kai’s. “You were right. About the fixing thing.”
Kai raised an eyebrow.
“I can’t save everyone,” Jay admitted, voice small. “Sometimes I just make it worse.”
“You kept us alive long enough for the storm to pass,” Kai said. “That counts.”
Jay looked up at the stars, silver and sharp in the dark sky. “I didn’t think the sky could look this clear.”
Kai followed his gaze. “Guess you gotta nearly die to appreciate it.”
Jay laughed softly, a small wince accompanying it. “Let’s not make that a habit.”
They sat, silent, the fire crackling between them. The desert was no longer hostile, just endless, quiet.
When the wind shifted, Kai spoke in a whisper. “Next time, we both stay alive. No hero stuff.”
Jay nodded. “Deal.”
Kai grinned faintly. “You sure? Lightning boy giving up the martyr act?”
Jay smirked. “Don’t push it, hothead.”
They laughed quietly, tired but genuine.
Above them, the stars wheeled on—silent witnesses to two exhausted ninja who had learned, at least for one night, that survival wasn’t about powers or heroics. It was about not being alone.
And in that fragile, cooling quiet, that was enough.
BONUS: THE RESCUE
The rumble of engines in the distance made Jay’s ears ring. He squinted against the sun’s glare, the desert still glimmering with heat. His body ached in a way that went beyond exhaustion; every step felt heavy, every breath shallow.
“Kai,” he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. They were long out of water. “Do you hear that?”
Kai lifted his head, squinting. “Yeah…finally.” His throat cracked as he tried to speak. “They…they found us.”
From over a dune, a familiar shape appeared: Cole’s sturdy frame leading Nya and Zane in their vehicles. Relief struck Jay like a punch to the chest, followed immediately by guilt.
Cole skidded the speeder to a stop and jumped down, eyes scanning the dunes until they landed on the two ninja. “Jay! Kai!”
Kai groaned, struggling to push himself upright, and Cole was there in an instant, helping him steady. “Careful, you two look like you’ve been through the fire.”
Jay blinked at Nya, who ran toward him, worry written in every line of her face. “Jay, oh my…you’re shaking.” She crouched beside him, taking his hands in hers, accidentally shocking herself in the process. “What happened out here?”
Jay tried to speak, but the words tangled in his throat. He could feel the heat still lingering, the residual static prickling across his skin. “We…we got stuck. The speeder…then the storm…” His voice faltered.
Zane knelt carefully on the sand beside him, tilting his head as if calculating the exact degree of their exhaustion. “Your vitals indicate extreme fatigue and dehydration. You need hydration and rest immediately.”
Jay gave a small, lopsided grin. “No kidding, Zane.”
Cole crouched beside Kai, gripping his shoulder. “You’re okay…mostly. You just look like you’ve been running from the sun itself. I didn’t know the fire ninja could get sunburnt.”
Kai managed a weak smirk.
Jay allowed himself to be lifted, stumbling slightly, and Kai followed, leaning on Cole for support.
As they climbed onto the vehicles, the desert stretched endlessly behind them, but the danger had passed.