i. loss

Wu had never seen anything like it, which meant that he just knew.

He knew before he even stepped outside the sewer that there would be nothing left.

And he was almost right.

Cole found the last part of him. It was a piece of his face-plate - a section that would always fall apart. Wu could still remember Jay fixing it the first time, after the Ninja defeated the Great Devourer. They'd found the crumpled metal plate hiding inside the destroyed rear compartment of a vehicle the Ninja had created. Jay had worked on it for weeks, and eventually it fit on Zane's face again, blending in with the old like nothing had happened at all.

But if it shook a lot, or there was a sudden force in any direction that wasn't forward, it would fall off.

Jay probably knew that, too, which was why he didn't want to see it.

They searched through the corridors of ice-coated buildings for the rest of the night. By the time the sun rose the next morning, Wu believed that the others knew, too.

ii. denial

The first and only person Wu talked to in the week after they stopped searching was Lloyd.

Sure, Wu had sat with his brother for a very long time - or rather, his brother had come and sat with him while Wu was meditating - but they hadn't spoken. Garmadon did not know Zane the way Wu and the others knew Zane: it was a fact, like the fact that Wu was grieving and his own brother could not help the pain.

He talked to Lloyd because he knew that, while Lloyd had been through a lot, he'd never been through something like this.

Because Wu had felt this before.

Many, many times before.

But this felt worse.

Wu couldn't remember who had gone to who first, but now Lloyd was leaning on his shoulder, and Wu had one arm tucked around him. Both of them needed to touch something - anything - to remember that this was real.

Wu's family was very dysfunctional, which meant that he had to take extra care of it.

iii. anger

The more Jay insisted that he did not want help, the more Wu was sure that he needed it.

Wu was worried for him. Jay was the only one of his students who had never endured a loss, and something told Wu that he should be watching him carefully.

But that was nearly impossible, as Jay had locked the door to his room and only came out at odd hours to eat. Wu hardly even saw Jay after a few days.

One day, however, Wu saw that the door to Jay's room was cracked open. It was strange, but it seemed like an invitation - one that Wu quickly accepted.

He nudged the door open as quietly as he could and cautiously entered the room, unsure if this was the right thing to do. But Jay - or rather, the body on the bed - did not move as he entered. Wu sat on the end of the bed near the boy's feet, and it was only the movement and slight creaking of the mattress that made his student open his eyes.

"I can't do it," Jay said, tears welling up. He still didn't move.

"Can't do what?" Wu asked, matching Jay's volume. He was glad that he'd shut the door again after he'd entered; Wu could tell that Jay wanted this to be a private conversation.

"I've looked at all of it," Jay sniffled, sitting up and turning to look at Wu. "And it should work, but it can't."

"Why can't it work?" Wu barely breathed. He was only here to help Jay put his thoughts into words, not to interrogate him.

"Even without the other half of it, it can still work," Jay whispered. "Cyrus has other solutions, or Pixal... It should work, but it can't..."

Wu paused to let Jay collect his thoughts. "What can't work?" he finally asked.

"Zane," Jay spat, and the name was like something vile coming off of his tongue. "There's backups of everything else, but there's nothing for - !"

Jay choked on his own words, dropping his face onto his knees and sobbing. Wu waited a moment before moving closer and setting a gentle hand on his student's back. He didn't want to ask the question to complete the sentence, because Wu feared that he already knew the answer.

"His memories...?" Wu finished quietly.

Jay made no sound to confirm or deny it, but the way that he suddenly went rigid before relaxing again told Wu the truth.

Wu could not waste his tears now.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't feel the slightest bit betrayed.

iv. bargaining

Wu noticed that Cole was acting strong.

Cole was clearly more concerned for others than he was for himself, but Wu didn't really understand why until Cole was the one who came to comfort him.

"I should be the one comforting you," Wu protested quietly. They were outside, staring at the stars - the silence felt necessary.

"You were close to him," Cole said. "Don't pretend that you don't need someone to talk to."

"I could say the same to you."

Cole huffed. "I don't need it, not really."

"You need it more than I do," Wu countered, and Cole gave in.

"I get why he did it," he said quietly. "I get that. And he saved the world."

Wu could hear the unsaid "but" at the end of the sentence, but said nothing. If Cole wanted to continue, he would.

Cole sighed. "I wish we had more time to say goodbye. That's all."

Wu dropped his face to look at the ground.

"...I wish we actually said goodbye," Cole admitted.

Wu nodded. "Me, too."

v. depression

Wu should have done it.

Wu really should have been the one to speak.

But he stayed silent. He didn't volunteer. He knew that if he had, he would never cry again.

Wu had had enough of hiding behind a mask of strength. He'd done that for years. He'd had enough of years and years of hiding in his father's monastery in the mountains...

He wanted to cry at this funeral, even if it meant that he couldn't give his student a personal final farewell.

Kai volunteered instead, and Wu was proud of that. He pulled Kai aside a few days later to reminisce.

"I remember when the two of you couldn't agree on anything," Wu whispered. He was saving his tears; he couldn't cry now... "It took a while for the two of you to get along, but now..."

Kai half-smiled, a pitiful thing that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly. "He taught me something."

"He taught us all something," Wu said instinctively. Because it was true. Even if they didn't realize the lessons until it was too late.

"I guess he did," Kai replied. "What did he teach you?"

To forget.

He almost actually said it before he realized that he couldn't. He couldn't take off his mask.

Not yet.

"To forgive," he half-lied. "He taught me to forgive."

vi. acceptance

The day had come, and if Wu was honest, it felt underwhelming.

There were twenty people in attendance. Maybe twenty-five. Definitely not more than thirty. And that was including the Ninja. Including Cyrus.

The city kept going as if nothing had happened, and Wu wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

Wu wasn't sure how to feel about the larger-than-life statue that Cyrus had commissioned. It was beautiful. It was over-the-top. It was beyond the call of duty.

It was fake.

Or it felt that way. There were less expensive ways that Cyrus could have expressed his gratitude, ways that might have felt more real.

But it was fine, until Kai started speaking.

And then Wu had to look down, look away, look anywhere but at Kai. The speech was simple, but Wu could feel it. Wu had watched the four of them, and then five, grow up together. Something about the words came through to him - they weren't wrapped up in eloquent language and flowery prose, they simply were.

Wu allowed himself to blink away the first few, until he could look down at the ground in front of him, but then he finally allowed himself to cry.

"Wherever you are, Zane... you'll always be one of us."

It sounded like a fitting end to a not-quite-fitting funeral. It sounded like the kind of line where, if it had been appropriate, everyone should have clapped. The silent tears rolling down Wu's face were a testament to everything, and the last thing needed to make it a perfect picture.

But then he heard whispering.

It started with a gasp from somewhere behind him, and then it grew. Suddenly the whole crowd was talking, whispering excitedly, frantically, needing to spread a message.

Look at that...

Snow...

It's snowing...!

Wu looked up and saw the fragile white particles drifting down, and suddenly everything felt real again. There was snow falling, and there were tear-tracks on his face...

And suddenly everyone was standing, because they couldn't sit anymore. They were standing together, united, all seven of them. They stood before the statue that suddenly belonged there, that suddenly felt real, and there were fresh tears falling down Wu's face, silent tears that he didn't want to hide.

Because Wu could accept this now.

Wu could accept this now, and he did.

(A/N): This was requested by an anon on my Tumblr: "a fanfic involving Sensei Wu's emotional state after Zane's sacrifice". And, hoo boy, this was fun.

The anon's reasoning for this was that Wu didn't have much of a reaction on camera and every other fic about this subject focuses exclusively on the Ninja. I did a little bit of that, too, but a lot of the point of including those scenes in this was to highlight the Ninjas' reactions in Wu.

The tricky thing about Wu's personality is that, because of his experiences, he doesn't show emotion his emotions naturally, and where he does, they're incredibly muted. If he did, he'd be a wreck. He'd be in no state to start a Ninja team ever. Hence why I chose this angle: to bring out Wu's feelings, I reflected them in the Ninja themselves, who aren't as damaged as Wu is and don't have to hide everything and stay strong.

While re-watching the funeral scene in The Titanium Ninja, I also noticed that Wu does react - it's just very subtle, because he's trying to hide it. The camera focuses on Wu several times, while it shows the rest of the Ninja just a few times. It does this because Wu's reaction isn't anything like the rest of the Ninjas'. Watch the scene if you want - you can see it if you look closely.

There's a little bit of something in Jay's section that's mostly just theory, but it's one that has a lot of evidence. Whether or not you actually believe the theory in question is another thing... but either way it's there and it makes Jay's reaction make more sense. Don't even deny that he wouldn't try it.