Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He doesn’t remember how long it’s been since he last saw her face—his mother’s face.

Time has blurred her image, like fog rolling over a windowpane, yet certain things remain. Burned into his memory like a brand.

She had kind eyes. A rich brown, warm like the desert sands that stretched far beyond the outer reaches of Ninjago.Around the iris was a shadow—a ring of deep black that didn’t speak of coldness or cruelty, but of depth. A kind-hearted void, if such a thing could exist.

He used to stare into those eyes when he was afraid. When thunder cracked the sky in half. When monsters came clawing out of his dreams. And she would use her voice to soothe him and fight away his never ending nightmares.

Fine lines had formed around her mouth—smile lines, delicate creases of joy. They weren’t from age alone, but from laughter, from stories, from memories she must have carried like treasures. Evidence of a life lived, of moments she deemed worth remembering.

She wore a scarf—a bright, almost blinding green.

If you met her even once, that would’ve been the first thing you noticed. A shade so lively, so stubbornly hopeful, that it could catch light even in the thickest shadows. It danced whenever she moved, wrapping her like it was made for her.

That scarf was the last thing he saw of her.

The final thing he saw,a flash of color,dancing out her neck as she left.

He doesn’t understand why.

Why would she leave him in this wicked, horrible place?

Did she know what would happen?

Was this punishment?

Some cruel joke?

Some test of strength or destiny?

Sometimes he wonders if she’s watching from somewhere, laughing at how pathetic he’s become. At the little boy who thought he’d be someone great, only to be forgotten like garbage tossed into a gutter.

The people here are unbearable.

Their voices, their eyes, their laughter—they grate on his soul.

They make jokes about things they don’t understand, like pain and abandonment, like he’s some broken toy to poke fun at.

He was just a child.

A child who was left behind.

Forgotten.

Discarded.

What possible use could he have here?

He doesn’t belong—not with them, not with anyone.

And the worst part? They know it.

One kid said it clear and direct.

“Well, one of the other kids said your red eyes are a curse. So they dared me to play with you for a week to see if you give bad luck.”

He remembered just standing there, stunned. Not hurt—he was used to that by now—but stunned by how easy it was for people to say things like that. So shamelessly.

Oh.

He wasn’t shocked.

Apparently having an “Evil Lord” as a father came with… baggage.

Not that he’s complaining. People fear him now, finally.

But it doesn’t feel like he thought it would. It doesn’t feel powerful.

It feels… hollow.

He used to dream about it—about being feared. About marching through the street as an Evil Overlord, taking Ninjago over and making it his Empire.

Now?

He simply lacks support,friends.He wanted other children to play with him.They could have been his evil advisors,but it wouldn’t have happened anyway.

And adults? Adults didn’t care either. Being an orphan didn’t bring sympathy—it just made him someone else’s burden to push away.

He had wandered the streets for months.

The boarding school that was made for evil children—what a joke. They called him too soft.

Too kind.

They trew him out like yesterday’s trash.

Is there a rule against children being too nice? Did he miss some important information?

And now he is—

Alone.

Living on the streets. No roof. No food. Just the cold and the hunger and the silence that eats away at your mind until it screams.

He had to rely on his “evil instincts,” as they called them. Dumpster diving.

Wow…

Learning when to run, when to fight, when to pretend to be something he’s not just to survive another day.

His body was getting worse.

He was thin now.It hurt to walk. It hurt to think. Every step felt painful.

He had been walking for hours.

And it was so cold.

His hoodie—the black one his father gifted him—wasn’t enough. His hands were numb. His stomach long past the point of growling.

He hadn’t eaten in days.

His vision blurred, colors smearing into one another like wet paint. He stumbled as he walked, dragging himself down alleys and sidewalks.

Then—

He saw it.

A restaurant.

It was filled with light.

He wouldn’t be allowed inside. Not looking like this.

But maybe…

Maybe they’d thrown something out. Something still warm. Something anything.

He didn’t care if it was unsanitary. He didn’t care if it made him sick.

He just needed something. Please.

He rounded the corner, his eyes locking onto the dumpster behind the building. The scent hit him first—grease, meat, stale bread. It made his stomach twist in anticipation and nausea all at once.

He reached out, trembling fingers just inches from the prize.

Then—

“Hey! You, kid!”

He froze.

His entire body went stiff, breath catching like a trap snapping shut.

He turned slowly.

A man—late forties, maybe older—stood behind him. Tall and Broad-shouldered. The look in his eyes was disgust. Like Lloyd was an insect infesting this place.

Like he had just spat on his face and said that this restaurant was the epitome of humanity’s disgusting desires.

And Lloyd ran.

He didn’t think—his legs just moved. His heartbeat thumped in his ears, louder than any engine, louder than any scream.

He didn’t know he could still run that fast.

Even starving.

He ran like he was being chased by death itself.

The city blurred around him. Lights smeared into one another. Shapes, colors, sounds all bled together in the chaos of his fear.

He turned corner after corner, alley after alley, until he collapsed against a brick wall, hidden in the tight space between two towering buildings.

His chest hurt. His throat burned. His knees slowly collapsing beneath him.

He curled into himself.

His hands clutched his stomach, and his breath came in shallow, broken bursts.

This was it.

This was what his life had become.

Alone.

Forgotten.

Was this how it was going to end?

Curled up and broken in a forgotten alleyway at the edge of Ninjago City—left to rot like discarded trash and unseen.Just another nameless street kid no one had the time or energy to care about. It was pathetic, wasn’t it?

He was only a child. A boy with too much weight on his shoulders and no one left to share it with. There had been a time when he believed he was meant for something. Maybe even something terrible. He used to imagine himself as Ninjago’s greatest villain—an evil so mighty the skies would darken at his name. The kind of Evil people feared and shivered at the mention of his name.

But none of it ever happened.

The world didn’t wait around for lost children to grow into their destinies. It moved on, faster and colder than he ever could. And somewhere along the way, Lloyd had stopped running to catch up.

Maybe he was just meant to be a nobody.

Some people aren’t written into the center of the story. Some are just filler—faces in the background, side characters whose only purpose is to stand there while someone else shines. Like the nameless ones in Fritz Donagen comics. The ones who got maybe one line, just enough to make the hero seem smarter.

Maybe he was just one of those.

Just a placeholder.

And now, even the background was too good for him.

His breath shuddered in his chest. It came out ragged and uneven, the kind of breath that felt like it hurt more to take in than to let go.

His vision was starting to fade.Black spots danced at the edges of his sight, growing larger with every blink. The cold wasn’t just uncomfortable anymore—it was consuming. His limbs had long gone numb, and there was a strange sense of stillness coming in, like the world itself was slowing down.

Maybe this was it.

Just… disappear quietly.

.
.
.

“Hey… you… able to… hear me?”

The voice cut through the quiet fog in his head, distant and slurred. At first, he thought he imagined it. It wouldn’t be the first time his mind played tricks on him. Lately, dreams and memories had started to blur together, and the difference between real and not-real no longer seemed to matter.

He didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

What did it matte who was speaking?

No one ever stayed. No one ever helped.

“…He’s probably—… passing out—!”

The second voice was sharper. Worried, maybe. But to him, it sounded obvious. He was passing out. Of course he was. What else would happen when your body’s been running on empty for days and your only shelter is a crack between two buildings?

He braced himself for the worst. For the scolding, the shove, the “get lost” that always came next.

But that never came.

Instead, he felt something strange—arms wrapping around him.

Not forcefully. Not rough or angry.

They were careful. Steady. Whoever it was handled him like something fragile, like they’d done this before. Like they knew how to lift someone who had already stopped trying to hold themselves up.

There was no shouting. No insults. Just warmth. Just that quiet strength.

He felt himself being picked up, and the ground dropped away beneath him. His head lolled against the stranger’s shoulder, and the rest of the world turned hazy and indistinct.

He thought he heard a few more words, something soft and hurried, maybe a name being called, maybe an order to get help. But it was all fading.

He slowly started to drift away.

⸻

The first thing he felt when he regained consciousness was warmth.

Warmth?

Did the afterlife hold warmth? Did it wrap you in light and hush your trembling bones with softness you never thought you’d deserve? Was this it, then—being held by something kind at the end?

He slowly opened his eyes, only to be met with an almost blinding light. It stung at first, sharp and clinical, wrestling into his skull until he winced from the headache forming behind his eyes. But after a few slow, irregular breaths—after giving his senses time to adjust—he realized he was lying in a bed.The mattress was soft, and a thick, heavy blanket cocooned his body like a shield.

But that didn’t make sense.

Why would he be here? In a bed?

He wasn’t supposed to be safe.

Panic started to rise in his chest. His heart began hammering against his ribs, fast and irregular . His breathing quickened. The air was too thick, like he was drowning in it. He couldn’t tell if he was cold or hot; his clothes felt distant,but his clothes clung to his skin, damp with sweat. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think straight. The edges of the room blurred into static.

Was he kidnapped?There was no logical reason for him to be somewhere so quiet, so clean, so… soft.

His hands curled into the sheets, nails digging in.

Everything felt like a cage.

And he couldn’t remember how he got here.

He was spiraling. He didn’t notice the sound of footsteps or the shift of weight on the bed. He didn’t even feel the presence behind him—until gentle arms wrapped slowly, cautiously, around his trembling body. A hand slid into his messy blond hair, combing through it with deliberate care.

His whole body tensed at the contact.

At first, instinct screamed: trap. Lie.He expected to be struck, restrained, or mocked. That was how it usually went—kindness that existed only long enough to be weaponized against him. People didn’t touch him like this. People didn’t stay.

But this person didn’t let go.

Their touch remained steady. Not possessive. Not greedy. Just… present.

Still, he hesitated. His eyes remained wide, unblinking. Maybe this was a trick. Maybe all of this was a setup, and any second now he’d wake up to the real world—the one where people take everything from you,just to see you ruined.

But something deep inside him—something half-buried, aching and unfamiliar—whispered: It’s okay.

Maybe, just maybe… for once, this wasn’t cruelty in disguise.

Maybe someone didn’t want to hurt him.

Maybe someone wasn’t disgusted by him. Maybe they didn’t see him as broken, dirty, or beyond repair. Maybe he wasn’t being discarded like a useless, worn-out object no one wanted to claim.

His breathing began to slow, if only slightly. He didn’t relax, not yet, but he didn’t resist either. The tension in his shoulders softened after a second of reconsideration.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself imagine that safety could be real.

After what felt like an eternity of spiraling thoughts — suffocating things that made him question everything — he slowly opened his deep crimson eyes. His gaze lifted,only to meet the person embracing him.

She was a woman adorned in gold, delicate chains and jewels glimmering against her soft features. Her jawline was gentle, her hands even gentler — warm and steady. Her eyes, a deep charcoal gray, shimmered in the bright light of the room. They held something otherworldly, something vast — like the light of a newborn star.A promise of a safe future.

Her hair, almost white because of the lighting, was tied into a neat bun, framing her face in a way that made her kindness feel more pronounced.

But beneath the softness in her expression, he saw something else.

Pity.

Her eyes, her mouth, even the way she held him — it all expresses sadness. Not for herself.

For him.

Because he was Lloyd Garmadon. The son of Lord Garmadon.A boy discarded by the people who brought him into this world, left to fend for himself in alley, dodging both people and monsters.

Who could blame her for feeling pity?

Who, in their right mind, would wish this life on a child?

Minutes passed in silence. He simply stared at her — unmoving, unsure if he should breathe too loudly.

Then he noticed her lips moving. Her voice, gentle and careful, broke through the confused state he currently was in.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

He froze.

He knew, instinctively, that she wasn’t here to hurt him. That wasn’t the issue. But the words wouldn’t come. His lips trembled, parted slightly, but his throat felt like it was full of needles. Every breath caught on something sharp. Something scared.

He wanted to speak. He needed to speak. But his voice had been locked away — buried by a mountain of needles,pressing against his throat,stopping him from speaking.

His panic started to swell up again.

But then, she spoke again — softer this time.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I know you’re confused. But trust me — you’re in safe hands, okay?”

Safe.

The word hit him like Brick.Something in his chest shifted — like a weight had loosened. The thing choking him, pressing down, eased just enough for one fragile sentence.

“I-I’m… Lloyd,” he stammered, the syllables barely making it out before the tightness returned, like a stone lodged in his throat.

His chest started rising too fast again. The panic returned. What if she was wrong? What if the person who hurt him earlier came back? What if he wasn’t safe after all?

But she was already speaking again — quietly, steadily.

“No one’s coming after you,” she said. “Not anymore. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Then, as if to seal the final word , she added:

“Hey.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s okay.”

He repeated it to himself.

It’s okay.

Again.

It’s okay.

Chapter Text

He had been walking for what felt like hours through this strange, hollow place filled with endless void. There was almost nothing in sight—only a vast nothingness that pressed in around him, suffocating in its silence. Every other minute, a flash of color pierced the darkness and attacked his senses, so overwhelming that it felt as though an entire crowd of people were kicking him hard in the back. The impact sent blasts of pain through his body.

He didn’t know where he was,But he needed to get out.

His legs moved faster on instinct, even though his body screamed in protest. His heart began to thump against his ribcage.He had to escape this miserable place—this nightmare. His mind repeated it the same sentence over and over again:

Get out.

Get out.

Get out.

But the flashes of color wouldn’t stop. Beams of contrasting hues—crimson red, radioactive green, piercing blue,shimmering white,orange like brown color—kept tearing across his vision. He wondered, just for a moment, if they meant something.

But no. That thought was too much. Thinking would only cause him a massive migraine.

He forced himself to ignore the confusion and keep running.

Then, without warning, the floor beneath him began to disappear. The smooth nothingness transformed into sand—thick, rough , and coarse textured. His steps became unsteady. His feet gave up.His balance faltered.

And then he fell.

He collapsed onto the sand-like ground, but it didn’t feel like sand anymore. It pressed against his skin like stone wrapped in thorns. He gasped in pain. The rough surface felt alive, crushing him. It grew heavier with every passing second, swallowing his limbs, wrapping around his entire body.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t breathe.

His hands scrambled frantically in all directions, trying to grip onto something—anything—to keep from sinking.

He needed to escape. He had to. It was the only thing that mattered.

But the more he struggled, the deeper he sank. The sand climbed up to his throat.

His vision blurred.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe.

He—

⸻

His eyes flew open.

He shot upright, gasping for air as if he had just been pulled out of that nightmare. His skin was enveloped by sweat. His heart was still racing.

His head turned, his gaze darting across the room to make sure—to make sure that he was no longer trapped in that void.

He wasn’t.

He was back in his bedroom. Everything was still. Safe.

His breathing gradually steadied.

Just another dream, he thought bitterly, pressing a hand against his pounding chest. Just another nightmare.

What time was it?

He turned his head toward the clock hanging on the bedroom wall.

2:00 a.m.

Of course.

His sleeping schedule had been a mess for months. These nightmares—vivid, disturbing, and painfully real—never came on a schedule. Sometimes they appeared every night, other times they left him alone for days. But lately, they’d grown more intense.

He wished, more than anything, that he could just go a week without one. Just a single peaceful week.

Dragging himself out of the large, king-sized bed, he padded barefoot toward the balcony. The cold stone floor made him shiver but that didn’t matter. He needed air.

He stepped outside and grasped the edge of the railing, leaning against it. Below him, the city of Ninjago spread wide and endless, bathed by light pollution . The shimmered around the skyline—gold, almost white.

It was beautiful. And for a fleeting moment, that beauty calmed him.

When was the last time he truly felt at peace?

That question echoed in his mind, heavy and empty.He could hardly remember a time when he didn’t feel haunted—by memories, by thoughts he couldn’t control.

Sometimes, something inside him awakened. It whispered dark things. It urged him to embrace his anger, to stop resisting, to lash out, destroy, burn. These thoughts disturbed him more than anything, because they weren’t unfamiliar. They were tempting.

What was wrong with him?

Why did he feel so… split and empty?

For the past two years, his life had followed the same careful routine. Wake up. Get dressed. Attend private lessons. Sit through formal ceremonies. Smile when spoken to. Speak when spoken to. Repeat.

And yet, it all felt… wrong. Like he was living someone else’s life.

The memories before the age of ten were a blur now. He remembered a school—no, not a school. A boarding school.A place made to break the psyche of a child and turn them evil.He remembered being bullied. He remembered crying. But everything else had dissolved,being kept away somewhere at the back of his mind.

Perhaps it was for the better. Who would want to remember pain?

What came after the school wasn’t much clearer. He remembered… running. Hunger. The constant nausea in his stomach. But he remembered one moment clearly.

Warm hands

He clung to that memory like a lifeline.

The rest came later. The guards had found him—patrolling the streets near Jade Palace. A boy curled up in a cold alley,trembling from cold and hunger. He was too weak to run, too frozen to speak.

They’d taken him with them,preventing him from experiencing a lonely death.

And then…Empress Atsuko.
She had sounded sad.

She’d taken one look at him and known—he had been abandoned. Cast aside by someone who was supposed to love him.

The Emperor, Kenji, had felt the same. There had been no long discussions. No hesitation.

They had taken him in.

Adopted him.

He had become their son.

He had gone from being a ten-year-old street orphan who cried himself to sleep, to a prince in silk robes, eating at long decorated tables and receiving lessons.

It should have felt like a dream come true.

But sometimes, in the dead of night, that little boy inside him still asked the same question:

What did I do wrong?

Why had he been left behind?

Why did the shadows in his dreams feel more real than the silk sheets on his bed?

Why did he feel like there was a storm trapped inside of him, waiting to break?

He gripped the balcony railing tighter.

His name was Lloyd. He was nearly thirteen now. He had lived in the castle long enough to know the proper way to bow, to speak to diplomats, to carry himself like royalty.

But sometimes—when the lights flickered just right, or the wind whispered the right way—he remembered other things.

A woman with kind eyes.

A man whose eyes were filled with a deep red,as red has his own.

Who is he truly? Is the personality he wears on a daily basis fake? Made out of practice so that he can remain his composure at any time?

His life in the royal Palace feels out of place.

Of course he tries to connect with the empress and Emporer but it feels tiring overtime.

All he can do right now is to ignore it and continue on with his duties as the jade prince.

—————

It took him a while to figure out why he is the way he is.

The fragmented emotions. The hollow ache he couldn’t name. The way he flinched at kindness and stood still at praise, as if neither belonged to him.

It felt like a piece of memory slid back into place.It didn’t answer everything, but it was something.

His father… was Lord Garmadon—well, Sensei Garmadon now.

Lloyd blinked hard, watching the rather old recording again. It was an old interview—after the attack of the Devourer. Garmadon stood with a tight, grim smile, his voice quieter than expected. He was talking about the Green Ninja. About her. His daughter.

“We’ve decided to take her in.Unfortunately during the attack,her parents died leaving her with no home—later on we’ve discovered that she is the prophesied Green Ninja” he slowly looks at her and then proceeds to say a sentence he’ll never forget.

”I see her as my child—I want her to have a place to stay and this may be the chance for it.”

It with all the humility of a reformed villain. The world had applauded for him.

Lloyd could barely breathe.

His mind spun, half-paralyzed, half-frantic. He knew about the attack. The Great Devourer had nearly destroyed Ninjago. Everyone knew. But the palace had been sealed—tight security, to make sure the prince was safe.He’d heard the chaos, seen the dark smoke over the rooftops, but hadn’t felt it. He hadn’t seen it.

He had only watched from a far.

Empress Atsuko and Emperor Kenji—his adoptive parents—had been cautious, careful, always shielding him from danger, from the public, from memories that might come too soon. They kept him safe. They gave him comfort.

But never answers.

And now he had one.

He wasn’t just a discarded child.
He was the son of Lord Garmadon.

So why had they left him?

Why had they abandoned him?

Why had he—his own father—replaced him?

He replayed the video again. The Green Ninja stood beside Sensei Garmadon, smiling faintly.

They raised her as their own.She stood in a place that should have been his. Was meant to be his.

Did they know what happened to him? Did they know he lived on the street? That he was tortured by cold nights, by loneliness so sharp it became hunger?

Had they looked for him?

Had he looked?

Lloyd wrapped his arms around his knees, pressing them to his chest, trembling silently in the darkness of his room.

Why did they replace him?

Why did he replace him?

⸻

He didn’t speak of it. Not to the Empress, nor to the Emperor, nor to the royal physician who smiled too much and offered him calming teas that never worked.

He kept it quiet, letting the questions eat away at him in private.

He still smiled when expected. Still bowed when addressed. Still moved with the practiced grace of a prince—cold, calm, composed.

But something behind his eyes was beginning to crack.

⸻

He began collecting news articles.

Anything about Garmadon, about the ninja, about the girl who wore green and looked so confused of herself, like she feels out of place—but why would she feel like that anyways?

Lloyd made secret notebook.He scoured every interview, archived every photograph.

When he couldn’t sleep, he would lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Garmadon had ever seen him.

⸻

Then one day, it all stopped.

The reports said it was sudden. That there had been a battle.

But the result was clear.

Sensei Garmadon was dead.

Lloyd dropped the article on the floor and just stared.

No screams. No tears. Just silence. Hollow and bottomless.

He’d never even gotten the chance to see him.

The man who left him, who forgot him, who replaced him… was gone.

And now all Lloyd had left was this unbearable silence.

He stood up, numb.

There was no fixing it now.

But maybe—

Maybe there was something he could still take back.

———

He started wandering at night.

The guards never noticed.

He wandered deeper into the city, past the polished districts and into the parts where the neon lights flickered and shadows hid knives and deals and desperation.

Here, he could breathe.

He liked the noise—the chaos of it. Something deep inside of him like the idea of revenge.

It was in one of these streets that he found the old biker hideout.

Or rather, it found him.

He was thirteen—too young to be taken seriously, too dangerous to be ignored. He walked into the warehouse wearing royal robes and a cracked expression. They laughed at first, until he spoke.

And when he spoke, they listened.

Perhaps these people also lost something very dear to them—just like him.They were just as confused as he once was.

This was his chance to create a group filled with people who have similar ambitions as him.To seek revenge.

The Sons of Garmadon.

⸻

The idea came slowly. A group dedicated to bringing back Garmadon—not the Sensei. Not the man who gave soft interviews and raised another child. No. He would bring back the version who was feared. Who was strong. Who never would’ve allowed his son to be thrown away.

He would bring back Garmadon.

The world had robbed him of a father.

So he would take the world apart until he found a way to bring him back.

Not because he believed in destiny.

But because he didn’t believe in peace anymore.

⸻

He watched her on the news sometimes.

The girl in green.

He hated,loathed and despised her.But he envied her with such intensity that it nearly drowned him.

She took his father’s name.

And yet she looked like she didn’t even want it.Confused,as if she was missing something?

——

At the palace,he remained the same.

The perfect prince. The sweet son. The tragic boy who never truly smiled with his eyes.

No one noticed.No one asked about the cuts and bruises hidden beneath the silky,golden robes made to fit him.

The Empress remarked once that he seemed tired.

He said he didn’t sleep well.

It was a disgusting lie,rolling of his tongue like does on a daily basis.

It’s been several years and something inside of him truly changed—he feels the anger boiling beneath his skin.He is disgusted by the mere smile people are wearing to appear nice.

He knows that the way he thinks isn’t normal but why did should it matter?He can’t be distracted.He has come so far with his his plan—his revenge.Stupid emotions shouldn’t be hindering him.

After all—his scheme is going to be perfect.He only needs to wait and be patient.

Chapter Text

It was a warm summer night in Ninjago City. Parades of people filled the streets, shoulder to shoulder, dancing hand in hand beneath strings of lanterns that flickered like stars. The rhythm of celebration pulsed through the air—music blaring from speakers.

No one noticed the figures weaving silently through the crowd.

A small group of individuals, their clothing mismatched,contrasting hues.They passed between the revelers, slipping away from the main road and running to a narrow alleyways.

They met with another group already waiting—this one marked by the cool shades of blue, black, turquoise, and white. A silent exchange passed between them, no words, just nods.

Together, they turned toward the Borg Tower.

One by one, they climbed onto its concrete walls.assisting one another as they ascended.In minutes, they reached the top—an open platform shadowed under the lightless sky.

The man dressed in green stepped forward.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a crimson katana strapped on his back. With one clean cut a hole through the window Glass.

They slipped into hallway one after another.

Their eyes scanned rapidly.

A picture hung suspiciously crooked on the far wall: a portrait of Cyrus Borg. One of them approached it, blade in hand, and sliced the canvas open.

And there it was.

The Oni Mask of Vengeance.

It glowed like something alive, nestled in a secret compartment, bathed in subtle red backlight. Crimson shadows danced across its face, its demonic features twisted in permanent rage. The eyes and fangs shimmered faintly yellow, almost gold.

Before anyone could reach for it, the man in green moved first.

He pulled a small pouch from his belt and blew a fine powder across the space between him and the mask. Instantly, the air shimmered—red lasers materialized, invisible until now, crisscrossing the gap like a net. He reached for the twin katanas on his back.

With a deep breath, he moved.

The katanas sliced carefully through the lasers, cutting through the air like a surgeon’s scalpel. One wrong move and they’d all be caught. But he was steady. Precise.

Then his fingers touched the mask.

Success.

But then—click.

A hand yanked the katanas free from the last laser beam.

The alarm screamed.

A high-pitched, mechanical wail erupted through the tower, radiating out across the city. Red lights burst to life, bathing the room in a pulsing glow. The group froze for just a moment—just enough time for panic to bloom.

“Go!” someone shouted.

They bolted for the windows, glass crunching underfoot as they leapt through and onto the platform outside. Sirens chased them. The night was no longer warm—it was searing, charged with urgency.

But they didn’t get far.

A blast of radiant green energy lit up the rooftop behind them, knocking one of them to the floor with a hard thud. The figure groaned, dazed.

A voice rang out—cool, amused, and unmistakably smug.

“Nice masks,” she called. “You almost pass for real ninjas.”

She stood silhouetted by the city lights, one hand on her hip.She didn’t need to announce who she was.

The Green Ninja.

Without hesitation, the figure in black lunged at her. She blocked the first hit with ease. Their fight broke out fast and clean.Feet slid against concrete.The rooftop seemed to shrink under the pressure of their movements.

Another thief raised a grappling hook and fired it toward a nearby house—an escape route.

The rest surged toward Harumi, hoping to overwhelm her.

And then—her ace.

Her eyes glowed, irises burning verdant green. Her palms lit with the same light. She spun, channeling her energy into a tornado of pure motion—a blazing Spinjitzu that crackled through the air. It struck the group all at once, lifting them off their feet, tangling them in its momentum before flinging them outward in a stunning display of raw power.

They collapsed.Harumi exhaled, breathless.
But it was only a heartbeat of peace.

In that moment, they scrambled to their feet, retreated toward the balcony, and launched their grappling hooks—vanishing into the shadows once more.

“Not a chance,” Harumi muttered.

She sprinted after them, leapt off the balcony, and caught hold of the swinging rope mid-air, her grip strong despite the speed.

Below, the city blurred. A highway loomed, concrete rushing up fast.

“Pixal!” she shouted into her comm. “I need my car—now!”

“Location, please, Master Harumi,” came the monotone reply.

Harumi twisted her neck, trying to orient herself. “Uh—somewhere above—just track me! You do know how to find me, right?”

There was a pause.

Her descent quickened. The pavement was almost close enough to taste.

Then—

Out of nowhere, a green car launched up from the highway, catching her mid-fall. She crashed onto the hood with a heavy oof but didn’t tumble off. The vehicle’s tires shrieked as it landed onto the highway.

“You’re the best, Pixal.”

“You know me, Master,” Pixal replied, a faint note of amusement curling at the edge of her voice.

The green car sped after the black motorcycle, weaving through packed streets and narrowly avoiding collisions. Inside, Harumi gripped the steering wheel tightly, eyes fixed on her target. The driver of the motorcycle was doing everything to escape her pursuit.

Tied to the back of the bike was the Oni mask—secure, tight, and glinting ominously in the light.

Without warning, Harumi’s car launched off a ramp and landed hard on the highway, tires screeching as she resumed the chase.

“Who are these guys, anyway?” Harumi asked, eyes flicking to the display screen cluttered with speeding coordinates and tracking data.

“There is no entry in our database,” Pixal responded.

Harumi cursed under her breath. “Whoever they are—they’re good at this.”

The bike began to accelerate, weaving through cars with expert precision. Harumi leaned forward, gripping the wheel tighter. She could tell this wasn’t a one-person job.

“I need reinforcements. Are the others available?”

“Unfortunately not,” Pixal answered. “They’re all on separate missions—too far away to assist in time.”

Harumi pushed the pedal harder. Her car surged forward, gaining on the motorcyclist cloaked in black and green. He looked like a shadow cutting through the wind—focused only on escape.

They tore through the city, crossing road after road. Then—suddenly—the motorcycle skidded to a halt. Harumi braked hard. Their vehicles faced each other now, like duelists preparing for one final strike.

Then, the unexpected.

The bike jumped over her car.

And the driver leapt from it—mask in hand—deploying a parachute mid-air. He floated down slowly, wind tugging at his dark clothes, the Oni mask secure in his grip.

Harumi’s breath caught in her throat.

On the canopy of the parachute was a symbol. One she knew too well.

The face of Lord Garmadon.

Her father.

The world seemed to shrink around her. Her heart thundered in her chest, confusion and panic twisting through her like a knife.

Why his face?

Why now?

Before she could spiral further, Pixal’s voice broke through the haze. “Harumi? Are you alright?”

She blinked, then nodded—more to herself than to anyone else. “I’m fine. But… we need to inform the others.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Call the team. This is an emergency.”

⸻

The distress warning echoed across Ninjago.

Nya received hers mid-battle, defending a quiet mountain village from a group of violent mercenaries.

Jay and Cole were in a monastery, far away from Ninjago City and somewhere deep in the snowy mountains.They were trying to find their Teacher Wu,who still lost in the time stream.

Kai and Zane were fighting in a nearby harbor when they got their signals.Both froze, glancing at each other.

⸻

The team gathered in a quiet meeting room, murmuring among themselves, catching up with energetic voices and smiles.

Then the doors opened.Harumi walked in.
Immediately, the others turned and greeted her.

“Hey—there she is! You’re late!” Kai teased.

Zane glanced over. “Kai was also late,” he added dryly. “So no need to be embarrassed.”

Kai huffed and looked away, knowing he’d been caught.

Harumi chuckled at the commotion. “It’s good to see you all again. It’s been too long.”

The others grinned, but she noticed them exchanging glances. Something felt off.

“Why are you all staring at me?”

Jay raised a brow, clearly holding something back.

“Well, it’s just—” Cole started, but Zane beat him to it.

“You sound… older.”

Harumi blinked. “Older?”

“Your voice,” Zane clarified. “It’s… lower. More rasped.”

“Oh.” Harumi blinked and trying to hide heir embarrassment. “I didn’t notice.”

“It seems our princess has finally grown up!” Kai joked, ruffling her white hair.

“Hey!” she yelped. “I spent all morning on that hair bun!”

The team burst into laughter again, the warmth of their reunion filling the room.

Then Nya asked, “Any word from Misako?”

Harumi’s expression dimmed. She glanced at her sister and shook her head. “Nothing. Not since she left to search for Master Wu.”

Silence fell over the group. Cole shifted and tried to smile, offering reassurance. “They’ll come back. Both of them. You’ll see.”

“I hope so,” Harumi murmured. Her fingers tightened around her tablet. “Because what we’re facing now—it’s worse than anything we’ve dealt with before.”

The others turned serious. She activated her device, swiping through data until she found the image. Then she turned it around for the team to see.

A face. Familiar. Frightening.

Lord Garmadon.

Gasps echoed through the room. Even Jay fell silent, eyes wide.

Zane, however, remained calm. “I’ve seen this before,” he said. “It’s the symbol of a gang. They’ve been spreading throughout Ninjago. It’s growing… very fast. Very dangerous.”

Harumi nodded. “Seventy-two hours ago, they attempted to steal an artifact from Cyrus Borg.”

She hesitated. “A mask.”

Before anyone could speak, the doors opened again—and a new voice interrupted.

“Not just any mask.”

They all turned as a stranger stepped into the room, cloaked in black and silver.

“The Oni mask and there are a total of three masks” he said.

The group froze, tension thick in the air.

Jay tilted his head. “Wait… macaroni mask?”

Nya groaned and slapped a hand to her face. “Oni, Jay. Oni.”

Zane recognized that name and explained that Oni are apparently powerful beings,older than Ninjago.

“Each mask represents one of the three Oni leaders—if all three masks are united in one place,the owner will gain immense power” the man continued while glaring at the mask behind the glass container.

“Ninja, this is Mr. Hutchins—head of security and personal advisor to the royal family. I asked him to come,” Harumi explained, her tone steady as she approached the group. The team exchanged confused glances, Kai especially looking unsure of the situation.

“I apologize if you’ve never heard of them before,” Hutchins said with a calm voice, stepping forward. “The royal family has chosen to keep their identity private, in order to protect Ninjago from greater threats.”

“Let me guess—they’ve got an Oni mask too?” Cole muttered with a trace of sarcasm in his voice, folding his arms.

Harumi’s gaze flickered toward the palace in the distance. A knot of unease was tightening in her stomach. Is this place even secure enough to hold something as powerful as one of the Oni masks? The thought kept returning no matter how hard she tried to push it away. If the Sons of Garmadon come for it… will we be able to stop them in time?

“The Emperor is scheduled to give a public speech tomorrow,” Hutchins continued, his face grave. “I fear the Sons of Garmadon might attempt to steal the mask during the event. We could use your help—but you’ll need to blend in with the crowd.”

The team exchanged brief glances. There was no debate needed. Harumi didn’t say anything, but inside he familiar was forming in her stomach.If the mask falls into the wrong hands… I don’t want to imagine what could happen.

Still, one question lingered in her mind, echoing with quiet suspicion.

Why are they called the Sons of Garmadon?

⸻

The next day arrived faster than expected, and the ninja found themselves standing at the grand gates of the palace, the sun glinting off its gold-tipped towers. A growing crowd had already gathered in front of the stage where the Emperor would soon speak. Everyone blended in effortlessly.

Journalists hovered with cameras, civilians murmured with anticipation, and Harumi glanced around, her eyes sharp and searching.

Nya’s voice came through the communicator, her tone low and cautious. “Any sign of trouble yet? Anyone look suspicious?”

“Nothing so far,” Harumi replied quietly. “Just the usual crowd—reporters, citizens…”

She scanned the area, trying to remain focused. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how massive the gathering was. She’d seen crowds before—festivals, parades, even the occasional fan gathering—but this… this was something else entirely. The public unveiling of the royal family clearly meant more to the people than she realized.

Her eyes shifted to the platform at the front. That’s when she saw him—standing beside the Emperor and Empress.

The Jade Prince.

He was draped in a flowing green , accented with shimmering golden robes. A pristine white cloak sat on his shoulders, fluttering slightly in the summer breeze. His golden hair gleamed beneath an ornate headpiece.

But it wasn’t his attire that caught her off guard.

It was his eyes—deep, vermillion-hued eyes. They were oddly familiar, yet not. They held a kind of wisdom, a maturity that seemed out of place for someone his age. A chill crept down her spine.

Why does he look at me like that?

Before she could make sense of it, Nya’s voice broke her trance.

“This is too much. I don’t like it—feels overdone,” Nya grumbled. “And why all the gold? The royal couple doesn’t even have real power anymore, do they?”

Jay shrugged. “I actually think it’s kind of nice. They’re coming out to show themselves to the people. It’s respectful.”

“You probably just want to wear your ninja suit,” Kai teased, smirking.

“It’s not that—it just feels… too much,” Nya replied, crossing her arms.

“They’re tradition, Nya,” Zane interjected, his tone calm. “And right now, they need protection.”

Kai suddenly looked over. “Harumi, you seem distracted. Oh—I think someone has caught her eye!”

The others turned to her. Harumi quickly averted her eyes from the platform, realizing she had been staring too long.

“No! I wasn’t—” she caught herself, then sighed. “It’s nothing. We should stay alert. The speech is almost over.”

Just then, the crowd erupted into applause. Cheers echoed through the plaza as the Emperor finished his speech, waving gently to the people. Harumi tried to keep her focus sharp, eyes scanning for any sudden movement.

From a hidden vantage point, Zane raised his bow slightly, prepared to fire if needed. Jay, Kai, and Cole emerged discreetly from their positions while Nya patrolled the outer edge of the crowd.

Suddenly, something rose above the crowd—a large balloon with the face of Lord Garmadon printed on it.

Harumi’s heart dropped.

“There!” she shouted, pointing. “That’s a signal—get ready!”

In a split second, the area descended into chaos. People screamed and scattered, running in every direction. Harumi didn’t hesitate—she leapt forward, throwing herself in front of the Jade Prince to shield him.

In the midst of the panic, someone collided with Nya, sending her crashing to the concrete. As she pushed herself up, her eyes landed on a pile of fireworks near the back of the stage.

“Nya! Are you okay?” Harumi called out, her voice lined with concern.

Nya groaned. “I’m fine—just fireworks. False alarm!”

Harumi exhaled in relief, though the tension in her chest didn’t fade.

Mr. Hutchins appeared beside her, nodding in appreciation. “You acted without hesitation. The Royal Family is deeply thankful.”

The others gathered around Harumi, offering silent support. Mr. Hutchins bowed to the group. “As a token of gratitude, the Royal Family wishes to formally invite you to stay as honored guests in the palace.”

Everyone looked at one another. Nya crossed her arms, unimpressed.

“It’s just a palace. Seen one, seen ’em all,” she muttered.

The others, however, nodded respectfully and accepted the offer.

Who would turn down a chance to see inside a place like that?

That night, they stood before the towering doors of the Royal Palace—massive, majestic, and glimmering with gold and emerald detail. It was even more breathtaking up close.

Mr. Hutchins opened the doors with a ceremonious gesture. “Welcome to the Palace of Secrets.”

Kai raised a brow. “Palace of Secrets? Why’s it called that?”

“If I told you,” Mr. Hutchins replied with a sly smile, “it wouldn’t be a secret now, would it?” He then slammed the doors shut behind them with a loud boom.

The ninja were led through ornate corridors until they reached the main hall, which was covered in gilded trim and warm, lantern-like lights overhead. The sight was stunning.

From the dais at the front of the hall, Mr. Hutchins made a grand announcement. “Ninja—allow me to present the Royal Family: Emperor Kenji, Empress Atsuko, and their son, Prince Lloyd—the Jade Prince.”

They all bowed deeply out of respect.

Lloyd stepped forward, regal and poised. “I’ve read many stories about your deeds. You are heroes of this land.”

He walked to each of them in turn.

“Kai—the bold fire wielder, often fighting before he thinks,” Lloyd said with a smirk. Kai grinned and bowed in return.

“Cole—the rock and heart of the team.” Cole nodded proudly.

“Jay—the one quick with both wit and lightning.” Jay gave a half-laugh, finally realizing it was his turn.

“Zane—the calculating android , sharp and steady.” Zane simply bowed, quietly correcting, “Technically,I’m a Nindroid,” he stated while changing his appearance to his Non-human form.

Lloyd turned to Nya, who instinctively straightened her posture.

“And Nya—the girl,” he began, pausing.

Nya’s eyes narrowed slightly. Just the girl?

But before the irritation could rise, Lloyd continued.

“Not just any girl. You’re brave, resourceful—and the kind of person I once aspired to be. The Master of Water, capable of great things.”

Nya blinked. “…Huh. I like him.”

Finally, Lloyd stepped in front of Harumi. “And Harumi—the Green Ninja.”

Her muscles tensed slightly. The way he said it—so casual, so familiar—it unsettled her. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Why does that smile feel so wrong?

“You’re young, but already one of the most powerful protectors. The Chosen One,” Lloyd said softly. “I lost my parents too. But we both found family, didn’t we?”

Harumi stayed quiet, her thoughts swimming. She forced herself to smile back. He’s just being kind. I’m overthinking this… right?

Jay started to ask what Lloyd meant, but Emperor Kenji stepped forward to clarify.

“We took Lloyd in. He had no family. He is our son by choice and by honor.”

A moment of awkward silence passed.

Harumi bowed politely. “We are honored to be here. Thank you for welcoming us.”

“It was Lloyd’s request,” Empress Atsuko explained. “He insisted we invite you—he said your presence would make us feel safe.”

“We fear the Oni mask in our possession may attract danger,” the Emperor added. “We ask only one thing—please, protect it. Keep it safe. The fate of Ninjago could depend on it.”

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Kai promised.

Lloyd bowed deeply. “Thank you. Mr. Hutchins will now give you a tour of the palace.”

They followed Hutchins into a massive banquet hall filled with elegant dishes—vegetables, fruits, pastries, even sculpted cakes.

“Eat whatever you like. It’s all prepared for your comfort,” Hutchins announced.

Cole shook his head. “Not for me. I follow Master Wu’s teachings: ‘Your body is a temple.’”

Jay rolled his eyes. “You’ve been a party pooper ever since Master Wu disappeared.”

They laughed expect for Zane who looked confused but decided to ignore it.

Mr. Hutchins gestured to the interconnected passageways. “Everything here is connected. Makes it easier to navigate.”

Kai smirked. “So that’s why it’s called the Palace of Secrets!”

“Yes, but the entrances to these secret paths are only known to the Royal Family,” Mr. Hutchins said, his voice clear and stern as he looked intently at Kai.

“Sure, of course… you mean—” Kai muttered, already reaching for one of the ancient books on the massive shelf. He tugged it free, hoping it would trigger a hidden mechanism, revealing the secret passageway Mr. Hutchins had mentioned.

But nothing happened.

Mr. Hutchins looked completely dumbfounded, watching as Kai continued his efforts, pulling out book after book. One by one, they fell uselessly to the floor, forming an untidy pile at his feet.

The team exchanged awkward glances, a quiet wave of secondhand embarrassment rippling through them. Cole cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“We’ll, uh… clean this up later,” he said sheepishly.

Mr. Hutchins nodded curtly and turned to leave, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. As soon as he was gone, the Ninja took the opportunity to talk on their own.

As Nya approached the group, her brow was furrowed with unease. “Guys… do any of you also have a bad feeling about that advisor?” she asked, her tone irritable and focused, her eyes directed intensely in the direction Mr. Hutchins had gone.

“Yeah, you’re not alone on this one,” Kai said, crossing his arms. “He’s definitely hiding something.”

“He is,” Harumi added quietly, her gaze following Hutchins as he disappeared around the corner. “There’s something off about him…”

They moved together down the corridor and eventually entered a room adorned with gilded walls and lined with wooden panels carved with dragon motifs. At the center stood a large glass case, its frame inlaid with gold and dark lacquered wood. Inside, resting on a velvet pedestal, was the Oni Mask of Deception.

Harumi stopped in her tracks, her heart sinking as her eyes met the haunting curves of the mask. Her breath caught in her throat.

That mask.

It reminded her of him—of Lord Garmadon, not the one that adopted and represented himself as a father figure for her,but the version corrupted by the Great Devourer’s venom. Her mind unwillingly conjured the memories of the final battle.

What if those times return?
What if the balance tips once more, and the shadows rise again?
Harumi found herself wishing—desperately—that history would not repeat itself.

“Hey, Princess—everything alright?” Kai asked, suddenly beside her. His voice was soft, concerned.

“Yes… Yes, everything’s alright,” she replied automatically, too quickly. Her words were rehearsed, the tone too even. She had said them so many times before—words meant to deflect concern.

Kai didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, turning back to the others who were already discussing the mask.

“The mere thought of standing in the same room as that thing makes me start to shake!” Jay said nervously, stepping behind Harumi and gripping her arm for reassurance.

She didn’t respond, but deep down, she agreed with him. There was something deeply unsettling about the mask. The way it seemed to radiate a presence… cold, deceptive, ancient.

“If this is the Mask of Deception,” Nya began, glancing at Hutchins’ retreating figure, “then what exactly was stolen from Cyrus Borg?”

“The Oni Mask of Vengeance,” Hutchins answered simply.

Cole frowned. “Then who has the third mask? What’s it called?”

Zane stepped in. “No one knows where the third mask is. It’s the Oni Mask of Hatred—and its location remains a mystery.”

As the others delved deeper into their conversation, Harumi slowly drifted away. No one noticed her silent departure.

She didn’t know why her feet were carrying her toward the next hall—only that something was pulling her. A strange, magnetic force tugged at her chest. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was instinct.

In the distance, she spotted a figure through a slightly open doorway. Someone was sitting at a desk.

Lloyd.

She crept closer, her footsteps silent on the polished floors. Through the crack in the wooden door, she could see him staring into a mirror. Not just looking—but searching.

Her stomach twisted with that awful sensation again. That gut feeling she had come to fear—the one that felt like an emptiness inside her. It was more than anxiety. It was like an invisible voice whispering that something terrible was about to happen.

Is this it? Is the Palace about to be attacked?

She couldn’t afford to ignore this. Not again. Not after everything.

But before she could react, Lloyd’s gaze shifted—and his red eyes met hers through the mirror.

Oh no.

Her heart skipped a beat.

He saw me.

His expression shifted into something unreadable, alarmed and confused. Harumi quickly backed away from the door, her face burning with embarrassment. She turned on her heel and walked briskly back to the others, trying to compose herself.

“—And that’s why it’s important to keep an eye on everything at all times,” Mr. Hutchins was saying as she returned.

“Don’t worry! We’re experts at that,” Kai replied with a hint of proudness.

Mr. Hutchins gave a small nod and walked away once more. It was a silent signal: the Ninja were now on their own.

Later, Harumi found herself once again in the room with the Oni Mask of Deception. But this time, the unease wasn’t just in her mind—it was clawing at her insides.

Her nightmares, long buried, surged to the surface. Thoughts, fears, echoes of what once was, all coming back like a storm crashing over her.

She had to be sure Lloyd was safe.

Harumi turned and made her way to his room again, this time moving quickly, determined. But when she stepped inside, her heart nearly stopped.

The room was in chaos.

It wasn’t just empty—it looked like someone had left in a panic. The stool from the desk had been thrown aside, the bookshelves were a mess, papers scattered across the floor like a storm had passed through. Even the bed was torn apart, pillows and sheets lying in piles.

Her eyes darted to the balcony.

The doors were wide open, and the curtains flapped gently in the wind,letting the cold night air flow in.

No.Her blood turned to ice. Her thoughts halted.

That feeling—it hadn’t been a false alarm.

Lloyd has been taken.

She pressed her hands to her ears and activated her comm.

“Everyone—The Prince… Lloyd… he’s gone. I think he’s been kidnapped!”

Chapter Text

Harumi ran as fast as she could.

Her legs moved like wind—fluid and seamless—blending into the shadows of the night.

She had to find Lloyd.It was her duty to secure the Prince and protect him from harm.

Leaping from one rooftop to another, she vanished into the cold air, a ghost in motion. Her breath came in steady bursts, keeping pace with her heartbeat, adjusting to the bitter night.

She launched herself toward the next building—

—but her foot slipped.

The rooftop’s edge betrayed her. Her leg slid off the concrete, and for a terrifying second, she was airborne—falling into a yawning void between buildings.

At the last possible moment, her hand caught the edge. Her fingers clung to a small ledge, sparing her from what could’ve been a fatal fall.

She tried to pull herself up. She knew she was strong enough—but her body ached, trembling, threatening to give out. Harumi, of course, refused to surrender. She pushed harder.

But the surface she clung to had crumbled into smooth, weathered stone. Her hands slipped.

She began to fall.

Until—

A hand grabbed her wrist, tight and firm. In one swift pull, she was yanked upward, her legs scrambling for grip as she climbed back onto the rooftop.

Panting, she glanced up at her rescuer—and froze.

“Who are you?!” she gasped, stumbling back, readying for a fight.

A hooded figure stood before her, face hidden, posture too casual for someone near the castle. Alarm bells rang in her head.

She raised her fists, tension clawing up her throat. The air around them turned sharp and tight.

“Wait, wait—I just saved you, and now you think I’m a threat?” the figure said, voice teasing and amused—barely suppressing a laugh.

Harumi blinked, caught off guard.

Sure, he’d helped her—but a hooded stranger near the palace? That wasn’t something she could ignore.

Then, with a fluid motion, the stranger reached up and pulled the hood back.

Her breath caught.

“Lloyd?” she whispered, stunned. “What—”

But before she could finish, he grabbed her hand and broke into a run, pulling her with him.

“I’ll explain—just give me a second!” he said, grinning as they dashed across the rooftops. “I was heading toward the outskirts of Ninjago anyway, but now—well, here we are!”

Harumi yanked her arm back and stopped in her tracks, forcing him to halt too.

“Lloyd, where are we going?” she demanded, eyes narrowing. “Everyone at the palace is looking for you!”

He hesitated. Just for a second. But it was enough.

Harumi saw the flicker of guilt in his expression—like he’d been caught in a lie.

“I went to your room earlier,” she pressed. “You were gone. The place was a mess—I thought you’d been kidnapped by the Sons of Garmadon!”

He winced slightly.
Yeah. He’d need a good excuse for this.

“Well…” Lloyd slowly lifted the heavy bag slung over his shoulder. “There’s a reason you didn’t find me.”

Harumi eyed it warily. “What’s in there?”

He unzipped the top.
Mountains of food—sealed containers, loaves of bread, wrapped fruits and snacks—peeked out.

“I sneak out at night to bring food to the poor,” he said, his voice softer now.

Harumi stood still.

The words hit her like ice water. Her throat tightened.

Memories she tried to bury rose to the surface—her parents, scraping together every coin to feed her, the nights they skipped meals so she wouldn’t have to. Their laughter, their weariness, their love.

The same wave that had threatened to drown her for years came rushing back.

She swallowed.

“But… why?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “You live in the Jade Palace. You have everything.”

Lloyd looked down, his hands tightening around the straps of the bag.

“I can’t sit in a room filled with things far more worthy that anything while people starve,” he said.

He met her eyes again—so openly, so vulnerably, it made her chest ache.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered. “None of it is. We pretend it’s fine… but they’re out there suffering.”

Harumi looked away.

“I hope you understand—I didn’t mean to scare you,” Lloyd said, rubbing his hands together anxiously. His gaze dropped to the ground, voice soft. “I thought no one would notice. But… I guess I was wrong.”

Harumi opened her mouth to respond—
—but a loud noise cut through the night.

From the distance, the pounding of boots echoed through the alleyways. Torches flickered as several palace guards combed the rooftops, calling his name.

Harumi turned, pointing toward the palace. “No—no, I do understand! But the entire palace knows you’re gone. They’re searching everywhere.”

Lloyd looked up, then gave a short nod.

“Well then,” he said, hoisting the heavy bag onto his shoulder again, “let’s finish what I came to do. Quickly.”

He turned and picked up his pace.

Harumi hesitated only a second before following him. They climbed down a narrow ladder and emerged onto a small cobblestone street tucked between apartment buildings.

Warm lanterns lit the path with a gentle amber glow. People gathered in small clusters, chatting quietly. The air buzzed with life.

Then they saw him.

Heads turned. Eyes widened. Smiles bloomed like morning light.

“Prince Lloyd!” someone called.

Children broke away from their parents and ran to him, laughter bubbling from their lungs. They surrounded him, hands tugging at his sleeves.

Lloyd chuckled, waving at them.

“Hold on, hold on—one second!” he said, kneeling as he unzipped the black bag.

The scent of bread and fruit wafted out, and the children cheered. He opened his arms, offering the food freely. More people came from nearby buildings. Adults joined the circle, eyes shining with gratitude as they took only what they needed.

Harumi stood back, quietly observing.

Time felt like it had slowed to a hush.

She saw the way the children clung to him, how he ruffled their hair and remembered their names. His smile—so warm, so genuine—made something ache in her.

Back in the palace, he smiled too. But that smile had always felt… empty. Routine. Like a mask he wore because he had to.

Now, she was seeing the real smile.
And it changed everything.

She didn’t realize he was speaking to her until his hand gently touched her shoulder.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s more to deliver. Down this alley.”

They walked together in silence for a while, passing cracked brick walls and faded posters.

“Have you done this often?” she finally asked.

“Yes,” Lloyd said without hesitation. “Very often, actually.”

She nodded slowly, trying to make sense of it.

“You’re the Prince,” she said. “You could just order food to be sent down here. Why sneak out yourself?”

Lloyd looked at her, his expression unreadable.

“Because they don’t need a Prince,” he said. “They need someone who sees them.”

He paused, then added, “Someone who doesn’t look down from a balcony and call it ‘charity.’ They need someone here, with them.”

She fell quiet again.

“I’m not just doing this for them,” he continued. “It’s for me too.”

“For you?”

He smiled a little sadly.

“There’s this pressure,” he said. “Every day, I wake up and people expect me to be perfect,be able to do everything and…”

He stopped walking and turned toward her.

“I don’t always know what I’m doing. Sometimes I feel like I’m just pretending—smiling, nodding, saying the right words, but inside I’m…”

He sighed, shoulders drooping.

“I’m tired,Harumi.”

“The way I act in the palace… it feels like a constant mask,” Lloyd said, his voice calm now, “But here, with them… with people who don’t expect anything from me—I feel real.”

He smiled—not the stiff, polite smile she’d seen him wear when he introduced himself.

And suddenly Harumi felt it—a flicker of something inside her tighten and draw breath, like an old wound remembering how it first hurt.

A mask.

That word echoed through her like a haunting refrain, reverberating off everything she’d tried to hide. She knew exactly what Lloyd meant—because she, too, wore the mask of the green ninja.

But it didn’t feel like it belonged to her.

From the moment fate pointed its finger at her and gave her that title, her world had begunn to collapse.

The Green Ninja was supposed to be strong.But she hadn’t felt strong enough.She had felt like a fraud. Every movement in training felt like borrowed strength. Every mission felt like she was walking a narrow bridge over failure. The green suit never fit quite right—not just physically, but spiritually, like a skin that didn’t match her soul. She wore it because she had to. Because everyone was watching. Because destiny didn’t care how scared she was.

She had tried so hard to compensate—to earn the role she had been assigned without warning. She studied longer, trained harder, fought tougher. Every scar she gained, she accepted with a bowed head and clenched teeth, silently telling herself it still wasn’t enough. Every mistake, no matter how small, twisted in her gut like poison. The guilt lingered long after the battle ended. When civilians were hurt, or someone didn’t make it out alive, she buried those memories inside and swore to do better next time. But “better” never came.

The others—especially Nya and Kai—tried to reassure her, told her that everyone stumbles, that being human meant being flawed. That even “heroes” break. And while she nodded and smiled, thanking them for their kindness, a deeper part of her—never truly believed it. Because the Green Ninja wasn’t allowed to break.

And now here was Lloyd, the Jade Prince of Ninjago, saying the same thing. Admitting to the same fears. That he, too, felt the same way she did.

“I understand the way you feel,” Harumi said quietly.

Lloyd looked at her with a mixture of surprise and something softer—an understanding that seemed to reach beyond words.

“As the Green Ninja,” Harumi continued, her voice trembling slightly, “everyone expects me to be perfect. To defeat every enemy, protect every innocent, and always be strong. But sometimes… it’s just too much. Like no matter how hard I try, I’m still failing—failing the people who believe in me.”

Lloyd’s eyes softened as he stepped a little closer. “It doesn’t always work out the way you want it to, does it?”

Harumi nodded, biting her lip. “No. And it’s exhausting. Sometimes I wonder if I’m really the hero they need—or just a mask I’m forced to wear.”

Lloyd reached out gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re more than the mask, Harumi. It’s okay to feel that weight. But remember, even heroes need someone who sees the person behind it all. Someone who understands when the mask falls.”

Harumi looked up at Lloyd—the look in his eye—the expression of understanding.

“Thank you but… I hope I didn’t say too much,” Harumi said, her voice quiet and uncertain. Her eyes flicked up, trying to hold Lloyd’s gaze. “Just blurting out my feelings like that—it feels out of place.”

“No, no. It’s okay,” Lloyd reassured gently. His tone was warm, steady. “Telling people how you feel is important. You can’t carry everything alone, right, Harumi?”

She paused, visibly touched by his kindness. For a brief moment, she let herself soften.

“…Yes,” she said, a small smile forming. “You can call me Rumi, by the way.”

Lloyd’s expression shifted—surprised, then pleased.

“Rumi,” he repeated quietly, like he was testing the name on his tongue. “I like that.”

Before the moment could deepen, a sudden, piercing scream rang out in the distance. Their heads snapped toward the sound.

Across the street, a group of bikers stood menacingly over a few frightened children. The kids clutched what looked like scavenged toys or food—clearly trying to protect them.

Harumi’s eyes sharpened as she noticed the insignia on the bikers’ jackets.

Lord Garmadon’s face.

The Sons of Garmadon.

Her body tensed.

“Those are the Sons of Garmadon. What are they doing here? I have to stop them!” she hissed, already stepping forward—but Lloyd’s hand closed gently around her wrist.

“Rumi—wait.” His voice was low, urgent. “If you rush in, you might make it worse—I might get hurt. I… I don’t want something bad to happen.”

She stopped, caught in the tension between her instincts and his concern. His hand was still holding her wrist.
Harumi’s thoughts spun.

He’s worried about me… Why?

Her heart beat faster.

She nodded slowly, allowing his concern to touch her.

“Okay… You’re right.”

Just then, the roar of an engine split the air. A sleek black car barreled down the street and screeched to a halt in front of the bikers.

The gang scattered like shadows.

Samurai X.

Harumi exhaled in relief.

But before they could speak, a deep voice came from behind.

“Prince Lloyd? What are you doing here? Everyone is searching for you.”

Mr. Hutchins stood rigid, his voice sharp and unyielding.

Lloyd froze. “I—”

But Harumi stepped forward, her voice calm and composed.

“Mr. Hutchins, it’s alright. Lloyd just needed some fresh air. I accompanied him to keep him safe.”

Mr. Hutchins didn’t budge. “There is no excuse. You both know how dangerous it is. What if something had happened to him?”

Harumi bowed her head slightly, eyes lowered—performing guilt just enough to deflect blame.