Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The city streaked past in neon blurs and rain-slick reflections. 

The Green Ninja and the Red Ninja sprinted down the middle of the street, darting between stalled cars and abandoned taxis, making sure to stay in the direct line of every camera powered by the city's limited backup generators they could find. Each flash of lens was a promise: Look at us. Watch us. Follow us. 

Kai vaulted onto the hood of a sedan and sprang up onto the roof, boots skidding on wet metal before he caught his balance. Beside him, “Lloyd” mirrored the motion cleanly, two figures in green and red hopping from car to car like it was a training course instead of a city under martial law. 

Every time Kai spotted a glint of glass bolted to a streetlight or building corner, his hand flashed. A quick, satisfying shnk of metal through plastic, and another surveillance camera died in a shower of sparks. 

“You sure this’ll work?” he called over the wind, sword of fire already moving to slice the next camera in half. 

“Garmadon’s a notorious watcher,” the Green Ninja replied, voice coming through the mask, calm even as they sprinted. “He can’t resist a front-row seat.” 

“Then why,” Kai grunted, landing hard on a truck roof, “aren’t we seeing anything?” 

“Wouldn’t be so sure yet,” the Green Ninja murmured, glancing over their shoulder. 

Kai followed the look automatically-and saw them. 

Eight motorcycles, low and predatory, weaving between the cars behind them. Riders in matte black helmets and armor, engines snarling as they closed the distance. 

“So there they are,” Kai muttered. He flashed a quick, crooked grin. “Never doubted you… Green Ninja.” 

The bikes swarmed them, splitting into two lines, engines screaming. One clipped the side of a car and sent sparks skittering across the wet pavement; the rider recovered and gunned it harder. 

“Take ’em together?” Kai called. 

“On it,” the Green Ninja answered. 

They moved like they’d rehearsed it a hundred times. 

Lloyd-except not Lloyd-flipped backward as a bike drew level, one hand catching the handlebars as his heel slammed into the driver’s chest. The rider went flying backward, smashing into the car behind him. The Green Ninja swung themselves into the empty seat in one fluid motion, twisted the throttle, and shot forward. 

Kai pushed off the hood and landed on the back of that same bike with a thud, nearly overbalancing before he grabbed the Green Ninja’s shoulder and steadied himself. 

“Little warning next time,” Kai yelled over the roar of the engine. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” came the dry reply. 

Two bikes surged up on either side of them, riders leaning in with batons crackling with electricity. Kai parried one strike with the fiery blade, sparks colliding with flames. The other rider lunged for the Green Ninja; they ducked, elbow snapping up into his ribs, sending him tilting dangerously close to the ground. 

One of Garmadon’s men finally got a good angle. He jabbed low, and Kai felt the hit through the bike-the wrenching, ugly clank of metal speared right into the gas tank. 

His stomach dropped as he felt the bike tilt slightly under them. 

“Kai…” the Green Ninja warned. 

“I see it,” Kai snapped, already moving. Hot, metallic-sweet fumes flooded the air as gasoline spilled across the road, leaving a growing shine on the asphalt behind them. 

Kai’s mind worked on instinct. Gas. Fire. Enemies right on their tail. 

A wild idea lit up in his eyes. 

“Got an idea,” he shouted, fingers already shifting his grip on the sword. “Get ready to jump!” 

“Kai-” 

He didn’t give them time to argue. He twisted at the waist, exposing the spilling trail of gasoline behind them, and dragged the tip of the sword of fire along the metal frame. Ember flared, then raced along the slick in a sudden, hungry line of flame. 

The bikers hastening behind them barely had time to curse. 

“Now!” Kai barked. 

He shoved off the seat, tackling the Green Ninja as they both hurled themselves sideways. For a split second they were airborne, then the world flipped-their bodies hitting the ground hard, rolling across asphalt as horns blared and tires screeched. 

Behind them, the bike exploded. 

Fire climbed into the air in a blooming orange flower, the last two pursuing bikes swallowed by the blast. Shockwaves rattled the nearby cars, and drivers slammed their brakes, some spinning slightly as they fought to avoid the inferno suddenly roaring in the middle of the road. 

Kai finally skidded to a stop on his side, lungs burning, ears ringing. He blinked away the blurs in his eyesight and pushed up onto his elbows. 

“Green Ninja!” he said immediately, panic cutting through the adrenaline. “You okay?” 

The masked figure beside him lay on their back, chest heaving. Then they started to laugh. 

“I’m…” they wheezed, shoulders shaking. “I’m so glad you came with me.” 

Kai huffed out a disbelieving breath that turned into a laugh of his own. “Like hell was I gonna let you cause a distraction on your own.” 

He reached over and shook the Green Ninja’s arm. 

And the Green Ninja shimmered. 

Green bled into red hair and hazel eyes as the illusion dropped, and Skylor lay where Lloyd had been, a smirk curving her mouth beneath the fading glow of her power. 

“Let’s hope,” she said, pushing herself up on her elbows, “we caused enough of a distraction to get the others past undetected.” 

Kai’s grin faltered as he saw the movement at the far end of the blocked street. More of Garmadon’s men were approaching, marching forward now that the flames were beginning to subside. 

“They’ll be fine,” he said, already scrambling to his feet, eyes narrowing. “Us? Not so sure.” 

Skylor’s form flowed green again, skin and armor morphing back into the familiar image of the Green Ninja. She adjusted the hood like she’d worn it all her life. 

“Then let’s give them a show,” she winked (Lloyd’s face winking was something Kai would need therapy for later) and they dashed off again, , fading into the chaos of sirens and shouting. 

. 

. 

. 

Mistaké’s shop was dim, lit only by a few lanterns that hissed low on their wicks. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the wooden floor. The air smelled of incense and something metallic- something ancient. Harumi tried not to look too long at the jars of herbs and oddities on the shelves. Many of them seemed to watch back. 

Everyone stood around the central table, a heavy map of the city sprawled across it. Lloyd leaned over it, jaw tight, posture sharpened by tension. He’d been like that more and more lately-cold steel where warmth used to be. 

“With the power out,” he said, voice clipped, “Garmadon’s on high alert for any sign of our presence.” 

Kai crossed his arms. “Won’t be easy to sneak onto the docks.” 

“Which is why,” Lloyd continued, “we’re not going to be discreet.” 

Jay blinked. “We want him to notice us?” 

“If he’s not aware of our plot to reach the Dark Island,” Lloyd said, tapping the map, “he’ll assume we’re here to attack. Which is exactly what we’re going to make him think.” 

He pointed to the opposite end of the city, far from the docks they needed. 

“We’ll draw his attention here.” 

Cole frowned. “How?” 

Lloyd looked at Skylor. 

“By giving him the Green Ninja.” 

Skylor grinned, folding her arms. “Now we’re talking.” 

Kai stepped forward. “I’ll go with. A golden weapon will make for double the distraction.” 

Zane’s tone was careful. “Are we sure splitting up is wise?” 

“With a group this large,” Lloyd said, “it’s the only way we can make it past him undetected. At least enough to guarantee us a head start.” 

Cole’s expression darkened. “You’re saying he will notice us leaving.” 

Jay swallowed. “And… he’ll follow.” 

Lloyd hesitated. Kai caught the moment and shot him a knowing look. 

“Yes,” Lloyd finally said. “We won’t be making this trip without some kind of pursuit. When we leave… he’ll follow.” 

. 

. 

. 

On the other side of the city, smoke still curled into the sky-Skylor’s distraction blooming like a signal fire. Lloyd felt its heat even from miles away. He paused, breath sharp in his throat, staring toward the distant spiral. 

If Garmadon hadn’t noticed them yet… he would soon. 

Zane stepped closer, tone low but urgent. “We do not have long. They are only going to be fooled by Skylor’s façade for so long until Garmadon realizes it is not you.” 

Lloyd hobbled alongside him. Every step sent stabbing pain up his leg, and he flinched no matter how tightly he clenched his jaw. He could see the pity behind Zane’s mask-pity Zane wasn’t even trying to hide. 

Lloyd hated it. He hated that it was deserved. 

“I’m fine, Zane. Really.” 

Zane didn’t argue. He didn’t have to. His silence said everything Lloyd already feared: he wasn’t fine. Not physically. Not mentally. And certainly not as the Green Ninja. 

It was humiliating enough that Skylor had to pretend to be him. Her version of the Green Ninja was stronger, faster, healthier. Better. 

He’d been trying to surpass Zane for years. Trying to prove himself against warriors who never doubted themselves the way he doubted every breath he took lately. 

Zane’s quiet sympathy made the failure feel sharper. 

Up ahead, Harumi’s voice carried over the dirt path. “What ship did you have in mind for this mission, Jay?” 

Jay exchanged a look with Nya. “It’s been my hideaway since I started doing underground work. I call it the Destiny’s Bounty.” 

Nya wrinkled her nose. “This doesn’t happen to be the same shithole we hacked Garmadon’s systems from, does it?” 

“Shithole?” Jay repeated. “I’ll have you know I put in a lot of effort to make it livable.” 

Cole snorted. “I can confirm you can live on it. Not sure how much you’d want to, though.” 

Jay waved them off. “Hey, this is the closest thing to a working ship that can handle this ocean, okay? Most other boats in this harbor haven’t made it past a few miles of the Unforgivable Sea.” 

“And this one has?” Nya asked, skeptical. 

Jay hesitated. “…Yeah. It used to be a notorious raider ship way back. Until the crew went missing and all that turned up was the wreckage. Luckily, I was there to fix it up.” 

Zane tilted his head. “You seem to be fairly knowledgeable about pirates, Jay.” 

Cole cleared his throat sharply. Jay’s silence was even louder. Lloyd remembered the small confession Jay had made once. 

He used to be one. 

If anyone could navigate the ocean’s dangers… it was him. 

“We’re, uh… almost there,” Jay muttered, hurrying ahead. 

Everyone looked forward again. Everyone except Harumi. 

Lloyd felt her gaze like a weight on the back of his neck. He stopped abruptly. 

“Zane… I need a moment.” 

Zane looked between him and the group walking ahead. “Do you want me to-” 

“I’ll catch up,” Lloyd said. 

Zane paused. He didn’t ask questions- just nodded, then jogged to rejoin the others. 

Harumi took it as her cue to step forward. Lloyd caught her eyes for the briefest moment that felt longer than it was. No matter what happened, every glance she gave him felt branded into his skin in the most pleasurable and painful combination.  

. 

. 

. 

Nya was the first to question the rest of the plan. “Beyond just stealing a ship, I think we need to be prepared for what happens next. If Garmadon’s been looking for this place for years and you just happened to find it, what makes you so confident we’ll find it again? With all our lives intact?” 

Her words cut the air like a blade. 

Harumi watched Lloyd’s throat tighten. He didn’t have an answer. None of them expected him to. 

He exhaled shakily. “I… I have a map.” 

Zane tilted his head. “From memory?” 

Lloyd’s voice dropped. “This is the kind of trip you’d like to forget. Not one you ever could.” 

Jay groaned. “Lovely. We’re risking our lives on the off chance you remember where you’re going.” 

"Jay-” Kai warned, sharply. 

“I told you, Kai. We’re not ready for this!” 

Harumi stepped forward. “We’ve made it this far.” 

Cole shot her a look. “And two of us were almost dead.” 

“Then we’ll learn for next time,” Harumi replied. “Guys, for months we’ve been fighting off these armies. These people have hope for the first time in years. You learned Spinjitzu and rescued us from an unrescuable island in almost no time at all. We’ve survived fires and ambushes and raids. Were any of us ready when we did all that?” 

The group exchanged looks, skeptical, yet reluctantly hopeful. Lloyd’s stomach twisted at how easily she rallied them. How naturally she led. 

“She’s right,” Kai said. “And Lloyd’s the reason we’ve gotten this far.” 

Cole muttered, “Then why doesn’t he just do it alone?” 

“I can’t,” Lloyd said immediately. 

Everyone turned. His voice hadn’t shaken like that in weeks. 

“I’m the Green Ninja, sure,” he continued. “But I wouldn’t be half as powerful without you guys behind me. You’ve seen that. I need you… all of you.” 

Cole looked at Kai, some private understanding passing between them. 

“Cole…” Lloyd said softly. 

Cole sighed. “Fine. You could’ve said that sooner.” 

Nya drew a steady breath. “We’re really doing this, then?” 

Everyone looked at Lloyd. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We are.” 

Kai placed a hand on his shoulder just as Mistaké appeared in the doorway-silent, sudden, her arrival so quiet it made Harumi’s skin crawl. Wu followed her, looking troubled. 

“You lot are foolish,” Mistaké said, voice like something older than language, “to think that a map will lead you to the Dark Island.” 

Jay raised his hand weakly. “I thought that was mutually agreed on.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lloyd said. “I’m the only one who’s seen it.” 

Mistaké stepped closer. Her eyes-ancient, heavy, black in a way that swallowed lanternlight-never left his face. “Then you would know the island is only found when it wants to be found.” 

Zane blinked. “The island is sentient?” 

Mistaké didn’t blink. “It senses. And I can promise you now, it will only reveal itself to those it deems worthy.” 

Harumi stiffened. “Worthy… of what?” 

Mistaké’s head snapped toward her so fast Harumi almost stepped back. The old woman’s gaze raked her, searching, recognizing something Harumi didn’t understand. Her heart hammered, but she refused to flinch. 

“Worthy of its power,” Mistaké said slowly. “Traces of magic left by the ancient beings who corrupted its soil centuries ago.” 

Kai huffed. “I’m guessing this isn’t the good kind of magic.” 

Mistaké’s eyes narrowed, something dark rippling beneath her skin. “Oni. They were a physical manifestation of darkness, chaos, and destruction. For millennia they were at war with the First Spinjitzu Master over creation itself. Every act requires balance. There is no good… without evil.” 

She turned back to Lloyd. 

“If it revealed itself to you before, they saw something within you. I should wonder… if they’ll see it again.” 

Kai stepped forward sharply. “Alright, I’m nipping this one in the bud right now. Lloyd’s not evil. He’s changed since then.” 

“Then your chances of finding the island have dwindled,” Mistaké said softly. “You’d best hope the Oni don’t change their minds.” 

Lloyd’s jaw clenched. “Thank you. For the helpful insight.” 

Wu stepped forward. “Nephew… she warns you only of the danger this island poses. It will feed on your innermost desires. They grow stronger from conflict and will do everything they can to divide you.” 

“We’re talking about an island,” Lloyd said, irritated. 

“One you went to alone,” Wu shot back. His voice rose-a rare thing. “You have not seen the depth of their tricks. You must not let it tear you apart.” 

Harumi stepped forward. “We won’t.” 

She reached for Lloyd’s hand-gentle, steady, offering support he refused to take. 
He pulled away before she even touched him. 

Her heart dropped. She kept her face smooth. 

Mistaké watched the exchange with unsettling interest. 

“He is correct,” Mistaké said. “Your objective must be clear. Do not be misguided. However…” 

She stepped toward Harumi, unnervingly fast. 

“Should you find yourselves in an hour of need, this may aid you.” 

She took Harumi’s hand, her grip unexpectedly cold, and dropped a small pouch into her palm. The touch sent a strange jolt up Harumi’s arm. Something ancient. Something familiar. 

Harumi opened the pouch. “It’s… a tea leaf?” 

“This blooms under every approaching eclipse,” Mistaké said. “The last one hasn’t been seen for eight years. It can bring life back to the entirely lifeless.” 

Jay muttered, “You should probably plant more of those.” 

Mistaké ignored him. 

“This is the only one I’ve been able to harvest,” she said. “I am entrusting it to you.” 

Harumi swallowed, glancing at Lloyd, who still wouldn’t look at her. 

“I… I’ll make sure it’s kept safe.” 

Mistaké smiled- too wide, too knowing. 

“I know you will.” 

. 

. 

. 

“We’re now one step closer to reaching the Dark Island,” she said softly, “and you’ve shared next to nothing about it. Don’t you think we ought to prepare properly?” 

Lloyd wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed that she wasn’t trying to talk about… anything else. About them. 

She stepped closer. “What did you find?” 

His breath hitched. Unbidden, the memory flashed: 

Clawing up jagged rocks. 
Hands raw and bleeding. 
Air that felt like fire in his lungs. 
The mural of his own death painted in obsidian strokes. 
His father’s shadow looming, victorious. 

He swallowed. “Truthfully, I don’t know. I didn’t stay very long. It was… strange.” 

Harumi stared at him-unblinking, unconvinced. She knew there were things he wasn’t saying. Things he wouldn’t let himself say. 

Finally, she exhaled and pulled the small pouch Mistaké had given her from her belt. “Something tells me this leaf isn’t just a precaution. That it will be needed.” 

Lloyd’s jaw tightened. He nodded once. 

“Why would she give it to me?” Harumi asked, voice smaller than usual. “I don’t have a golden weapon, and I’m not… well, you.” 

His eyes flicked toward the group ahead. Then back at her. “Everyone has sacrifices to make… some of us are more attached to each other than we realize. If it comes down to it, any of us would use that leaf even if it wasn’t necessary, if it meant helping someone we care about.” 

He paused, eyes softening-not toward her, but toward the implication. 

“But you…” 

Harumi lifted her chin. “I’d use it when it’s absolutely necessary. To save who we need.” 

“You never let your personal feelings get in the way,” Lloyd said. His voice dipped, tenser. He knew first hand. “Of anything.” 

Even things that should matter.  

The unspoken words landed like a stone in her chest. Her falling out with Nya. Lloyd's affection she'd so carelessly pushed away. The way she always chose strategy over connection and how alone it left her now. 

Was Mistaké right? Was she already being tested? 

Lloyd straightened. “We should catch up.” 

He limped ahead, gritting his teeth against the pain. Harumi stepped forward and caught his arm, steadying him. 

“You can lean on me, Lloyd,” she said quietly. 

And she meant more-so much more. 

You can lean on me in every way you won’t let yourself anymore. 

You don’t have to carry everything alone. 

You don’t have to shut me out. 

But Loyd pushed her hand away. 

“I’m fine, Harumi.” 

He walked away from her without so much as a glance at her. 

Harumi stood alone on the path, the weight of the pouch heavy in her hand. And for the first time, she wondered if she had already failed the test she didn’t know she was taking. 

The moment the doors were thrown open, Garmadon rose from his throne in a single, predatory movement. 

“The Green Ninja,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “Where is he?” 

Killow- the largest man in the room, and suddenly the smallest- shifted nervously. “He… disappeared, Your Majesty.” 

Garmadon’s head tilted. “Disappeared.” 

“Vanished,” Killow corrected, as if that somehow made the failure more acceptable. 

A long, sharp silence stretched. Even the air seemed to hesitate. 

“And the holder of the Sword of Fire?” Garmadon asked. 

Killow swallowed hard. “He… also escaped.” 

Garmadon took a breath- slow, controlled, simmering with something that went beyond fury. His gaze drifted to the darkened windows of the command center. 

“There was no attack,” he murmured, voice dripping with realization. “Destroying our power… luring me to one side of the city… just to disappear…” 

His jaw twitched. 
He should have been enraged-should have torn into Killow, the guards, the entire room. But the truth hit him harder than useless anger ever could. 

Lloyd tricked me. 

His son. 

The one person whose movements he should have been able to predict, to feel, to sense like a pulse in his own blood. 

Garmadon moved past Killow with sudden urgency, pushing open the balcony doors. Cold wind whipped his cloak as he closed his eyes, reaching-not with sight, but with the strange connection that had bonded them since the day Lloyd was born. 

Where are you, son? 

At first there was nothing. Then he sensed it. 

A flicker of green light on the edge of his awareness, distant but unmistakable. It was so strong it burned through the fog of the city. 

“He is still in the city,” Garmadon breathed, eyes snapping open. 

He scanned the harbor. 

And there it was. 

A lone ship drifting out of the docks; one he had not authorized, once assumed too old to be of use… Lloyd was on it. 

Garmadon’s lips curled into something dark and cold. 

“Killow,” he said, already turning, already striding with purpose. “Prepare every ship we have.” 

Killow blinked. “Your Majesty?” 

“He is leading us,” Garmadon said, voice swelling with a terrible certainty, “to the Dark Island.” 

A storm gathered behind his eyes-rage, pride, hunger, and destiny all twisted together. 

For the last eight years, Garmadon had been pulling the strings, ensuring Lloyd was trapped in constant chase for his approval. Now, the tables had turned. Lloyd led the chase this time. And Garmadon would follow.  

Harumi had always noticed the small things. It was a talent, or maybe a curse-every shift, every imitation, every echo of herself reflected in someone else. And lately, Nya had become a mirror she never wanted. 

The hairstyle came first. The same twist, the same pins, the same loose strands framing her face with deliberate softness. Then her bangs were trimmed and swept aside in the same elegant arc Harumi had been doing for months. 

The makeup came next-subtle at first, then bolder as Nya grew confident wearing it. A flick of eyeliner, a warm glow to her cheeks, glossy lips, all of it painfully familiar. 

Then the jewelry. The girl who once mocked accessories now wore delicate chains and newly pierced earrings that sparkled with every turn of her head. 

But today… today was the last straw. 

Nya stepped into the room wearing a fitted maroon gi, tailored to perfection. It hugged her waist, emphasized her shoulders, and displayed her weapons like she had been training her entire life for this exact outfit. 

Harumi’s stomach twisted sharply. This wasn’t Nya-not the girl she used to know. This was a crafted, sharpened version shaped in Harumi’s silhouette. 

And somehow, Nya made it work even better. 

Bitterness pooled low in her belly. 

“Really?” Harumi asked, unable to stop herself. 

Nya blinked with immediate defensiveness. “What?” 

“A gi?” Harumi motioned at it, her voice edged with something rawer than irritation. “Was Samurai not enough?” 

Nya scoffed, tossing her hair like she had practiced it. “You’re just jealous you don’t have one.” 

Before Harumi could retort, Skylor strolled in, eyes trailing over Nya’s outfit with wicked delight. 

“I, for one, am jealous I don’t have one,” Skylor said. “You seem bored enough. How about making me one?” 

Nya crossed her arms. “I have some gaudy orange cloth.” 

“Perfect,” Skylor grinned. 

Harumi exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “We have more important things to worry about than wardrobe.” 

Nya rolled her eyes so hard it was practically theatrical. “Like you’ve never cared about appearances.” 

Harumi’s mouth opened automatically, ready to snap something cruel before Kai walked in at exactly the wrong time. 

“Wow,” he said, stopping short at the sight of the three of them. “This is a scary gathering.” 

Nya zeroed in on him instantly. “What do you want?” 

“Can I not, like, exist?” Kai asked, hands raised. “I was trying to find our leader, but I was attracted to teenage drama instead.” 

Skylor chuckled quietly. Both Nya and Harumi flushed, mortified for entirely different reasons. 

“I’m not sticking around for this,” Nya muttered, pushing off the bench. 

Kai stepped aside, but he couldn’t help giving her gi a full once-over. 

“Woah… maroon looks good on you,” he said. “Glad we’re both repping the red.” 

Nya paused mid‑step, suddenly awkward. “Um… thanks.” 

Kai brightened. “Y’know, if you’re not doing anything, maybe we could spar a bit. Go back to our roots and bring back the sibling fights.” 

“I’m sparring with Jay,” Nya said quickly. “Some other time though.” 

Kai blinked. “Jay?” 

“What’s wrong with Jay?” Nya shot back. 

Kai held up his hands. “Nothing! He’s great. Maybe a little energetic. But he’s no us.” 

Nya bristled. “Jay’s a great fighter!” 

Kai sighed. “Zane’s got the intellect, Lloyd’s got the strategy and fancy powers, Cole’s got the strength… and let’s be honest, I’ve got the most knowledge of weaponry. If you’re looking to learn from anyone, I mean-” 

“I’m not trying to learn anything from any of you douchebags,” Nya snapped. “Maybe it didn’t take me being a Samurai for Jay to recognize I know what the hell I’m doing. If any of you weren’t so caught up in your own egos and problems, you’d see what he offers this team as well!” 

“Not gonna be much at the moment,” Skylor muttered. “The guy’s afraid of water.” 

Nya whipped around. “Condemn Kai too, then-he can’t even swim.” 

“Hey!” Kai barked. 

Harumi folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Why so defensive over Jay?” 

Nya’s cheeks flared red. “Nothing- we just… have a shared interest in technology. He’s probably the only one of you who understands the skill it takes to man the mech.” 

Harumi’s voice turned sugary sweet. “Or is it because he’s close to Cole?” 

Nya shot a glare sharp enough to cut stone. 

“What about Cole?” Kai asked, confused. 

“Cole and I are friends,” Nya said stiffly. “And I am perfectly fine with that.” 

Harumi smiled knowingly. Cruelly. “Mm‑hmm.” 

Kai glanced between them. “This feels hostile.” 

“How about you worry about your own affairs, Harumi?” Nya snapped. “You seem to have a difficult time making up your mind. I see exactly what it’s doing to this team.” 

Harumi reeled. “How dare you!” 

“Am I missing something?” Kai asked. 

“More than you know,” Skylor muttered. 

“Cut it out, both of you,” Kai said, exasperated. 

But neither girl budged. 

They stared each other down, years of simmering resentment and bitter comparisons rising between them like smoke. Nya's eyes said she didn’t deserve any of them. Harumi's said Nya wasn’t good enough. 

Finally, Nya turned on her heel and stormed out, blinking hard against the tear threatening to spill. She refused to give Harumi the satisfaction of seeing it fall. 

As she left, she thought of going to Kai later, of dredging up old sibling comfort, but everything he’d said about Jay still rang in her ears. She thought of going to Cole, but that would only fuel Harumi’s insinuations. So her thoughts went exactly where they’d wanted to go from the start. 

Jay. 

She wandered the deck, peeking into the usual spots he holed up. Near the controls, bent over some jury-rigged contraption, huddled with Nya’s mech. Nothing. 

Skylor’s offhand comment floated back to her. The farther away from the water, the better… 

Nya lifted her gaze. 

A vague shadow hunched near the top of the mast, tucked behind the sail. 

Of course. 

She grabbed the rigging and began to climb. The higher she went, the more the wind bit at her skin, tugging at her gi and hair. The ship shrank below, the others reduced to small, moving shapes on the deck. 

When she reached the mast’s crossbeam, she moved carefully, each step measured as she edged along the narrow wood until she could see him properly. 

Jay sat there, back curved, mask clutched in his hands. His hair was tangled from the wind, and his expression was darker than she was used to seeing on him. 

Nya forced a small, wry smile. “Hey,” she said gently. 

Jay didn’t look up. He hunched further, fingers tightening on his mask as if it were an anchor. 

Nya lowered herself to sit beside him, keeping her weight balanced. “Whatcha doing all the way up here?” she asked. 

“The farther away from the water, the better,” he said. 

So Skylor had been right. There was something deeper than a casual dislike. 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” she asked. 

He laughed once, humorless. “And become even lamer than I already am?” he said. “Kai’s right. I am the most useless person here.” 

“You… heard that?” Nya asked. 

“Nothing’s ever truly a secret,” Jay said, voice flat. After a moment, he added, “You didn’t have to defend me like that.” 

Nya frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, meaning it. 

He finally turned to look at her. His eyes were glossy, tears making them brighter. 

“You’re amazing,” Jay said quietly. “And you’re right. They’re dumb for not seeing that. It wasn’t that difficult.” 

“Jay…” she said, heart twisting. 

“I came from nothing, Nya,” he continued, gaze drifting back out over the sea. “Less than nothing, actually. I know just about everyone on this ship has had some sort of tragic hardship, but mine? I didn’t become a good person.” 

“A lot of us haven’t done good things,” she said. 

“I had good people,” he said. “I had everything I could have needed. And I still threw it all away for that road.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“I had good folks take me in,” Jay said. “And I pushed them away in shame. I had Cyrus Borg take me under his wing, and I still turned away from my potential. I’m trying to make up for it. Appreciate the friends. Appreciate you. But there’s still that voice saying-” 

“You’re not good enough,” Nya finished quietly. “Not deserving of it.” 

His eyes slid back to hers, full of raw hurt. “I am afraid of the water,” he admitted. “Many things, actually, but… it started here.” 

“What happened?” she asked softly. 

Jay’s gaze darkened, focusing on a point somewhere far beyond the horizon. “Nya, the earlier years of my life weren’t pretty,” he said. “I… had a mother. I think. But we were captives. Before Garmadon, it was the raiders.” 

Nya’s stomach dropped. “Oh, Jay…” 

“The eastern raiders were Garmadon’s focus when he rose to power,” he went on. “They were an organized threat to the royal family, and later him. But the western raiders… they were ruthless purely out of cruelty. There was no goal. Only a desire to torture.” 

Nya’s hands curled into fists. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

Jay reached for her hand like it was the only solid thing left. He gripped it tightly. “I’m telling you this because you’re one of the few people I want to understand me,” he said. “All of me.” 

She nodded, throat tight. 

“But um…” he continued, voice going small, “they got bored of me pretty quick. And whatever my mother had on them, they wanted to get back at her. So they tossed me overboard. In the ocean we’re heading for right now.” 

Nya’s eyes widened. “Jay, the Unforgivable Sea is miles from Ninjago,” she said. 

“I shouldn’t be alive,” he said. He sucked in a shaky breath. “I don’t know how I survived. It’s like the ocean itself was trying to help me while simultaneously pushing me under as much as possible. And I haven’t touched it since. I-I can’t-” 

“Jay,” Nya said, leaning in and taking his face in her hands, forcing his gaze up to her. “It’s okay.” 

“I see them in my nightmares,” he whispered. “They throw me over every time-laughing. And when I’m underwater, it hurts. It’s painful. It’s suffocating. It’s unescapable.” 

His voice broke. 

He searched her face like he was trying to climb out of that memory by sheer will. 

A faint, weary smile ghosted over his lips. “Your eyes are like the ocean,” he said. “It’s like I’m drowning all over again.” 

Her heart lurched at the metaphor-painful and intimate all at once. 

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. 

“Yeah,” he said quickly, though his eyes still shone. “I’ll be fine. Please don’t… think of me any differently.” 

“I don’t know how I could,” she said. “I’d be a hypocrite.” 

That coaxed a small, almost disbelieving smile out of him. “I wish I could be like you,” he admitted. 

“Like… me?” she asked, cheeks flushing. “Why?” 

“Brave,” he said simply. “You’re more so than me. I mean, look at you-Samurai X. You took the role of a hero and made it your own. And you’re awesome at it. Me? I was just told I was meant to do this, but… I’m not actually sure if I can.” 

“Then let me be sure for you,” Nya said. 

She shifted closer, sliding one knee over his thighs until she was straddling his lap, her hands still cupping his face. The height, the wind, the ship-all of it seemed to fall away. 

“Look how far you’ve come, Jay,” she said. “From isolated and on the run, shutting people out and trying to escape your problems for so long… to a ninja. A protector. A part of a team. And…” She swallowed. “Able to love.” 

She kissed him. 

It wasn’t tentative. It was deep and sure and full of months’ worth of held-back feeling. His fingers tightened on her waist, anchoring himself in her instead of the mast beneath them. 

When they finally parted for air, he was breathing hard, eyes wide and astonished. 

“I think it takes a lot of bravery to reinvent yourself,” she murmured. “Take it from someone who knows-and only has you to thank for that.” 

“Why… why me?” he asked, voice barely above the wind. “Why does someone like you-someone so incredible-even look at me?” 

“Jay…” she started. 

“I’m a coward, Nya,” he said. “Running and hiding and regretting and repeating. I was comfortable and safe, and now I’m here. But you’re wrong; I haven’t reinvented anything. I’m a fraud, totally unworthy of this. And… I don’t know. The closer we get to the Dark Island, the more scared I am.” 

“Jay Walker,” Nya said firmly, “I love you.” 

His breath caught. 

“I love you because out of all the important people in my life, you are the only one who gave me a second look,” she said. “Like I am the most amazing person in the room. No one makes me feel like you do, and I love you for that. You brought out the parts of me that I always thought I should be ashamed of. That wouldn’t be enough. That were weird or misunderstood or overlooked. You pulled me up and pushed me to-to this.” She gestured down at the gi wrapped around her. “And you are funny, and you make me smile, and your hair is messy, and you’ve got freckles by your eyes that make you look five years younger. You are everything I want.” 

“You… mean that?” he asked. 

“I’m a lot of things, Jay,” she said. “A liar isn’t one of them.” 

He laughed, the sound choked but lighter than before. “Well,” he said, “I guess we’ve come full circle.” 

“I suppose we have,” she replied. “Guess that means we’ll have to fall for each other all over again.” 

“I’ve been doing that every day since I met you,” he said. 

Their mouths found each other again, kisses soft and then urgent, the kind that made the future feel briefly survivable. 

“I want to tell people about you, Nya,” Jay said after a while, pressing his forehead to hers. “I don’t want to keep doing this in secret. I want to be able to hold your hand when we face everything together and not worry about Kai or Harumi finding out.” 

“Me too,” Nya admitted. The admission tasted scarier than the height. 

“Then why?” he asked. “Why keep everything a secret? It’s been months now, and… I’m not sure how much longer I can act like we’re nothing more than… friends.” 

She kissed the tip of his nose, a small, fond gesture. “We’ll tell them, I promise,” she said. “I just don’t want to shock everyone so close to such an important mission. Let’s just… focus on destroying the temple, and then we’ll come clean.” 

He thought about that, tension easing from his shoulders. “I wish I wouldn’t have to wait so long,” he said. “But… alright. I trust you.” 

Zane stood alone near the starboard railing, the sea wind brushing through his hair in a way he recorded but did not quite understand. The hum of the Bounty beneath his feet pulsed in familiar rhythms-clean, mechanical, predictable. Humans were never so predictable. Their emotional patterns spiked and dipped without warning, chaotic and strangely compelling. 

He wanted to understand them. He wanted more. Something he could not yet name. 

A soft footstep approached-light, precise, familiar. His systems recognized it before he consciously did. Pixal. 

Without thinking, he instinctively pulled his mask up, shielding half his face. A habit born from fear, not logic. 

Pixal stopped beside him, gaze steady. “There’s no need for that, Zane.” 

Zane’s mask was already in place. “I am unsure what you could possibly mean.” Internally, he flagged the defensive tone-he disliked it, yet could not stop producing it when she was near. 

Pixal raised a brow. “I am not dull.” 

“I have never said-” 

“Then I’m sure you knew you would be risking your identity the moment you gave me this power source,” she continued softly, tapping the glowing core at her chest. “I’ve seen it before.” 

Her voice was not accusing. Simply… knowing. That unnerved him more. 

Zane froze. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he reached up and slid the mask off. His face felt suddenly bare, exposed in a way armor could not protect. He avoided her eyes. 

“I cannot imagine what you think of me now.” He braced himself for fear, for revulsion. Both were statistically common reactions. 

Pixal tilted her head. “Do any of the people here seem to care for your past?” 

Zane hesitated. “They are different. They didn’t try to help me as Mr. E.” 

Pixal shook her head gently. “You were alarmed. You did not threaten me.” 

Zane’s processors flickered. “You flinched.” The memory replayed in stark clarity, a moment he had studied repeatedly, trying to interpret it. 

“It seems to me,” Pixal said, stepping closer, “you wish me to think differently of you.” 

His chest tightened. “Yes. Honestly, I prefer you do. I do not like that a past like mine can be so easily swept under the rug by good people.” He paused, uncertain. “It feels… undeserved.” 

Pixal’s expression softened. “I put thought into our previous discussion. Before, I suspected you were not made to be a soldier. Now it makes sense… you despise your past because you were meant to be a caregiver.” 

Her words struck him with unexpected force-as though she had peeled back a layer he hadn’t known he had. 

“Garmadon made me something I am not,” Zane said, the admission quiet but raw. 

“And now,” Pixal replied, “you are free.” 

Zane shook his head. “I am still at the frontlines of someone’s fight.” It was the closest he had come to admitting the truth: he feared that being a weapon was the only role he would ever understand. 

Pixal stepped directly in front of him now, their height nearly mirrored. “You forget I too was made to be a caregiver. Am I to believe that means I cannot be more? I came here-” 

“You came here under false and foolish pretenses,” Zane interjected, though his voice lacked true reprimand. “Being a ninja is far from the heroics you believe it to be. I would be certain you see that by now.” 

Pixal studied him with striking clarity. “I see a man who cares for whom he calls family. So much that he abandons all sense of previous purpose to protect them. It is selfless and admirable.” 

Zane inhaled sharply. Something in him stuttered-an algorithm trying to run without sufficient data. “That cannot be all that you see.” 

Pixal held his gaze. “No… it’s not.” 

“Tell me then,” he said quietly, unexpectedly afraid of the answer. 

Pixal stepped close enough for their arms to brush. “You are afraid being metal and wires makes you cold and inhumane, unable to belong in a family.” 

Zane’s breath faltered. “What do you make of that, then?” 

“You are cold,” she said honestly. “I do not know why. However, I know it is no result of your program. You would not have given me your heart if that were anywhere close to true.” 

His chest tightened again-physically, impossibly. He wondered if this was what humans described as emotion twisting inside them. 

“Why is it you joined us?” Zane asked, curiosity sparking anew. “Why risk leaving your father?” 

Pixal lowered her gaze, voice turning somber. “You are not the only one afraid of being just metal and wires. My purpose has always been to assist Cyrus. Never once have I complained. He is incredibly compassionate, and I very much consider him a father figure to me. However… I do not want that to be the only thing I do. There is more to the world that I have never known. And I have always wished to discover it for myself. But doing so would mean he is alone… and he is afraid of such a thing.” 

“I see,” Zane murmured. A new emotion bloomed inside him-something like protectiveness. “Have you asked him about this?” 

“I have not,” she admitted. 

“Perhaps he has an answer you seek.” 

“Or perhaps not,” she said. “It is possible he will think I have malfunctioned to be having these ideas.” 

Zane shook his head. “Cyrus Borg works with precision. There is no malfunction to you…” He lowered his gaze. “I am sorry I tried to deter you.” 

Pixal reached out and placed her hand over his. 

The contact sent a jolt through his core-not painful, but overwhelming. His power source pulsed rapidly, syncing with hers in ways he had not expected. He felt… connected. Not just by wires or programming, but by something deeper, something frighteningly close to what he believed humans felt. 

“No,” Pixal said softly. “You were right. There is danger here that I did not understand. And more to human desires than I can even comprehend.” She glanced toward the cabins where raised voices still echoed faintly. “I expected black and white, but the people here… do they always create this much unnecessary conflict amongst themselves?” 

“In times of stress,” Zane replied, “they tend to hold on to things that do not truly matter. I… still wish to understand them, though. How their emotion works. I’m seeing them at their low, but at their high…” His voice softened. “I was envious. If I’m ever capable of it, I want to experience their feeling.” 

Pixal’s hand squeezed his. “You will have to share your findings with me.” 

A small laugh escaped them both-quiet, unfamiliar, but genuine. 

Zane looked down at their joined hands again. His power source pulsed-warm, synchronized with hers. He felt the sensation all the way into his chest, almost like short-circuiting but… pleasant. 

He had studied love. Observed it. Catalogued its behaviors. 

Perhaps this was the closest he would ever come to feeling it. 

They met each other’s gaze then-green glowing softly against ice blue. Two artificial lights, somehow warmer than anything mechanical. 

“You should not be concerned that you were built for Borg’s convenience,” Zane said gently. 

Pixal blinked. “How are you certain?” 

“For such a talented man,” Zane said, “if that is how he viewed you, he would have made more like you to share with the world. But you are the only one. In his mind, the world only needs one Pixal.” His voice softened to something almost unheard. “And that is how I am certain he cares for you. And every desire you have.” 

. 

. 

. 

Outside the door, four ninjas were pressed comically close to a narrow crack in the wood. 

“That is literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Nya whispered, eyes wide. 

“Zane’s in looooove,” Jay sing-songed under his breath. 

“We’re giving him hell for this, right?” Kai murmured. 

“Duh,” Cole said. 

Skylor walked by, glanced at the pile of limbs and masked faces crammed against the door, and sighed. “Seriously?” she asked. “This is what gives you guys entertainment?” 

“Go be a buzzkill somewhere else,” Jay whispered. 

Skylor rolled her eyes. “Gladly.” 

Harumi’s sword whistled through the air, catching the lantern light in a brief flash before slicing down. The training dummy’s head thudded to the floor and rolled, bumping into the wall. 

She was breathing hard, sweat beading at her temples despite the cool sea breeze slipping in through the narrow porthole. The ship groaned softly around her, the ocean’s lullaby barely muffling the storm in her head. 

She’d come here to quiet it. It hadn’t worked. 

Her reflection in the warped metal mirror across the room shifted slightly as the ship swayed. For a moment, the blur of motion and green-tinted lantern light tricked her brain. 

Green gi. Green eyes. A familiar silhouette that had watched her from doorways and across training grounds for months. 

“Lloyd?” she choked out, spinning around. 

There was no one there. 

The eyes that had once been impossible to escape—the ones she’d felt on her in the monastery hallways, in the courtyard, in every sparring match, patient and aching and there—were gone. 

She could breathe now. 

She could run from the heat of his gaze, from the weight of his love, from the deal she’d made to betray him. 

And yet… there had never been a more haunting feeling than his absence. 

Frustration exploded out of her before she could stop it. She screamed and hurled her sword at the mirror. The glass shattered in a spray of glittering shards, her reflection fracturing into a dozen broken pieces. 

“Wow,” a voice drawled from the doorway. “I hate how I look sometimes too, but that had to have been one horrid reflection.” 

Harumi whipped around, chest heaving. Skylor leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh yeah, that does it,” Skylor added, eyeing Harumi’s face. “You should put some cream on those under eyes.” 

“My complexion is nothing short of perfection, thank you,” Harumi snapped. “As is my reflection.” 

Skylor hummed thoughtfully. She pushed off the frame and crossed the room, bending to pick up a shard of glass. She flipped it in her hand, tossing it lazily and catching it again, toeing the edge of danger without ever cutting herself. 

“Call me crazy,” Skylor said, “but I could have sworn you called out for your Green Ninja just now.” 

“You’re hearing things,” Harumi said coldly. 

“No, I’m not,” Skylor replied. She stopped playing with the shard and looked up, eyes suddenly sharper. “He’s avoiding you. But you knew that.” 

“Don’t concern yourself with my affairs with Lloyd,” Harumi said. 

“Unfortunately,” Skylor said, brushing past her so their shoulders bumped, “we’re a little past that.” 

Harumi stiffened. 

Skylor spoke over her shoulder. “Don’t let him stay away for long,” she said. “His secrets aren’t his to keep.” 

Harumi stared after her, pulse pounding, the meaning of that last sentence echoing in her mind long after Skylor left. 

Breakfast on a ship wasn’t really breakfast. There was no sunrise to anchor it, just a vague lightening of the sky and the slow shuffle of boots as everyone drifted into the mess at roughly the same time. 

Harumi sat at the far end of the table with a bowl in front of her that had long gone cold. She’d taken maybe two bites. The rest had just congealed, a greasy film on top catching the lanternlight. 

She barely tasted anything these days anyway. 

The room hummed with low conversation-Jay complaining about the coffee, Nya shutting him down with a fond insult, Cole making some muttered comment about the way the ship tilted in big waves. The kind of normal noise people made when they were trying very hard not to think about the fact that the sea below them wanted them dead. 

Harumi heard none of it. All she could hear was the scrape of Lloyd’s spoon against his bowl, steady and controlled. Methodical, even. 

His head stayed down the entire time. No absentminded glances in her direction. No quick, stupid smile when their eyes accidentally met. Before, she’d always been able to feel his gaze like pressure on the side of her face; now there was just… a blank space. As if he’d decided she no longer existed and his body had agreed to go along with the lie. 

It was incredible how loud absence could be. 

She tried not to look at him. It lasted about thirty seconds. Her eyes betrayed her, sliding sideways until she caught the hard line of his jaw, the faint shadows under his eyes, the way he sat perfectly centered in his chair like he was braced for impact even when he was still. 

He looked older. Colder. Like the part of him that had once warmed in her presence had iced over completely. 

Kai dropped into the seat across from her with a thud, snapping her out of staring. His plate was piled higher than anyone else’s. Typical. 

“Did you sleep?” he asked around a mouthful of food. 

The question was so ordinary it almost made her laugh. Sleep. Right. As if closing her eyes didn’t just summon back all the choices she’d made, every version of Lloyd’s face she’d disappointed. 

She could lie- say yes, of course, like always. She could say no and pretend it was the ocean, the rocking, the noise. She could tell him the truth, that she hadn’t slept properly since the palace, that she saw Garmadon and Lloyd and the Dark Island every time she blinked. 

Lloyd set his spoon down with a soft clink. For a split second she thought he might answer for her, might look up and cut in, She didn’t. Because he would know. At some point in time all he did was watch her and study her, longing to know her. She desperately wished he still was. 

But he didn’t move. 

“Yes,” she said instead, because it was the only answer that didn’t feel like handing him a weapon. 

Kai chewed slowly, clearly unconvinced. “You look like crap,” he said, but his voice was gentler than the words. 

“I always look like this,” she replied, forcing her lips into something that could pass for a smirk. 

Lloyd stood before Kai could pry further. He pushed his chair back with careful control, not letting it scrape too loudly against the floor. Even the way he rose felt measured. 

“I’m going to check our heading,” he said to no one in particular. 

He didn’t look at anyone either. 

Harumi’s fingers tightened around her spoon hard enough that it bit into her skin. It would’ve been easier if he’d yelled at her. If he’d glared. If he’d given her any reaction at all. This quiet, methodical erasure made something in her chest splinter. 

He walked to the door, footsteps light as he passed each chair in silence. For a heartbeat she thought he might pause by her, might at least acknowledge she was taking up space in the same room. 

He didn’t falter. 

Her chair scraped back sharply, the sound too loud in the cramped space. Conversation faltered for a second as a few heads turned. 

“Where are you going?” Kai asked. 

“Out,” she said, not trusting herself with more than one syllable. 

She left her untouched food on the table and followed Lloyd into the corridor. 

“Lloyd!” 

The ship’s hallways were narrow, low-ceilinged things that amplified sound and smell-the tang of salt, the faint staleness of stored food, the oil Jay used on the joints of the Bounty. Harumi’s voice bounced off the wooden walls, chasing after his retreating back. 

He didn’t slow. 

“Lloyd, we need to talk,” she called, quickening her pace. She was shorter than him, but determination made up the difference. She caught his sleeve before he could turn the corner. 

He stopped then, not because she asked, but because she’d physically forced him to. The distinction made shame burn hot under her skin. 

“I’m not sure talking would help anything right now, Harumi,” he said without turning around. His voice was flat, almost bored. Like they were discussing sail maintenance instead of the way their entire world was held together by frayed string. 

“Avoiding me won’t either,” she shot back. 

He exhaled through his nose-a slow, controlled breath. Finally, he turned. 

Up close, the cold in his eyes was worse. It wasn’t anger burning there; she almost missed that. Anger at least meant heat, something she could push against. This was cooler, quieter. A door closed and bolted. 

“We’re this close to the Dark Island and you can’t use your powers,” she said, forcing the words out before she lost her nerve. “I can’t be the only one who knows this. If you and I can’t come up with a solution, we have to tell the team.” 

“You and I,” he repeated, the words like something sour on his tongue. 

“I’m the only one who knows about this damned bracelet.” Her hand twitched toward his wrist, stopping short of actually grabbing him. “But do not think for a second I won’t tell them.” 

“Are you threatening me?” he asked. 

There was a flicker of something darker in his expression then-a flash of his father’s temper, tightly leashed. He leaned in just enough that she could feel the pull of his irritation like static. 

“Because out of everyone trying to,” he continued, voice dropping, “you don’t scare me.” 

The casual dismissal should’ve made it easier to let go. It didn’t. 

“I supported you,” Harumi said, words tumbling over each other in her rush to get them out before he walked away again. “I helped convince them to trust you, follow you here, trust your plan. Does that not count for something? I want to help you.” 

He laughed once. There was no humor in it. “You want to help?” he said. “Stay away. You were so good at that before.” 

That one landed. 

Memories slammed into her all at once- Garmadon’s offer, Lloyd’s hopeful, stupid eyes when he’d come to her with trust heavy in his hands. Every time she’d chosen silence over honesty. Distance over comfort. Strategy over him. 

“I had my reasons, Lloyd,” she said. The desperation bled through now, thin and sharp and ugly. “I… I was trying not to hurt you.” 

He stared at her like he didn’t recognize the person standing in front of him. Or worse, like he did and just wasn’t impressed. 

“I’ve heard a lot of backwards logic recently,” he said coolly. “But truly, that might take the cake.” 

“For FSM’s sake, Lloyd.” Her voice climbed, fraying at the edges. “Why are you intentionally being difficult? What is it about me that threatens you so much?” 

“Nothing.” He straightened, the movement small but full of distance. “I’m the Green Ninja. I’m in charge. I’m leading the team, not you. And I have everything under control.” 

“Evidently,” she echoed, the word scraping her throat. 

“I don’t need your help,” he finished. “And I don’t want it either.” 

Silence pressed in, thick and tight. The ship creaked. Somewhere above them a rope groaned in its pulley. 

Harumi stared at him, the cold finality of his words settling in her chest like a stone. 

She wanted to hurt him back. To say something cruel and precise that would crack that ice and make him feel even a fraction of what she was feeling. Instead, all that came out was a quiet, raw, 

“I’m trying.” 

His eyes flickered, some softer emotion flashing and gone so fast she almost doubted it had been there. 

“Lloyd, I-” 

He froze. 

It was in the small things-the way his shoulders went rigid, the slight tilt of his head as if he were listening to something far away. Harumi felt the shift more than she saw it. 

“What is it?” she began, softer this time. 

He didn’t answer. 

He moved. 

In one quick step he closed the already narrow space between them. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her shoulder. The grip was firm, almost rough. Before she could jerk away or demand to know what he thought he was doing, he shoved her backward. 

The wall at her back gave way-the latch of a small storage closet clicking open under the force. She stumbled in, grabbing for anything to steady herself. Her fingers grazed wood, canvas, the rough edge of a crate. 

He followed, stepping in after her. The door swung shut with a dull thud. 

In an instant, the corridor’s thin light vanished. 

The closet was barely big enough for one person. Two turned it into a pressed-together tangle of limbs, breath, and heat. 

Harumi’s back hit the wall, knocking the air from her lungs. She sucked in a sharp breath and only then realized just how close he was. 

Lloyd stood braced in front of her, one hand still on her shoulder from the shove. His other palm was flat against the wall by her head, caging her in. His body slotted against hers out of necessity, thighs brushing, chests almost aligned. In the pitch-dark, every point of contact felt magnified. 

“What in Ninjago’s name is wrong with you?” she hissed, voice low but vicious. The anger came easier than acknowledging the way her pulse had spiked for reasons that had nothing to do with fear. “Are you seriously so unable to face confrontation that you have to-” 

“Be quiet,” he whispered. 

The command was so soft it almost shouldn’t have carried weight. It did. It cut straight through her tirade and left the rest of the sentence dying on her tongue. 

She opened her mouth anyway, the instinct to push back too ingrained. He shifted closer, the front of his gi scraping her own. She could feel the heat of him through the layers of fabric. 

“I mean it,” he said, breath ghosting across her cheek. 

There was something in his tone-not anger this time, not that cool dismissal. Alertness. Wariness. Fear, stretched thin and held tightly in check. 

Harumi swallowed hard and forced herself to listen. 

Al she heard was the frantic drum of her own heartbeat and the rasp of their breathing. The ship’s faint sway. Cloth whispering against cloth as they tried not to move. 

Her fingers curled into the front of his gi without thinking, needing something solid to anchor herself as tried to focus. Lloyd didn’t flinch, didn’t look down. His focus was fixed on the door, on the corridor beyond it that they could no longer see. 

“We’re on a ship with seven other people,” she whispered, leaning up so her lips brushed the shell of his ear. The space was so tight there was nowhere else for them to go. “There are going to be voices.” 

“Not… theirs,” he breathed. 

He sounded certain in a way he hadn’t sounded about anything that had involved her in days. 

The ship gave a slow, rolling lurch then, a wave catching it at an odd angle. Lloyd’s balance faltered. With nowhere to step, he crashed forward. 

His thigh wedged between her legs, knee pressing high. Her back slammed harder into the wall, supplies rattling around them. The unexpected pressure dragged a strangled sound from her throat before she could stop it-a soft, involuntary gasp that had nothing to do with the men outside. 

His hand snapped up, clapping over her mouth. 

Her eyes flew wide, more from shock than the actual pressure of his palm. His fingers splayed across her cheek, calloused and warm. His thumb rested dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. She could taste salt and steel on his skin. 

“Don’t,” he mouthed, barely audible. His own breath was coming faster now, fanning across her face. In the dark his eyes looked huge, pupils blown wide. 

Heat flooded her. Not just embarrassment-something heavier, rooted deep. Every inch of him was pressed against her now, bodies aligned from chest to knee. She could feel the tremor in his muscles where he held himself as still as possible. 

Harumi’s instincts warred. Part of her wanted to shove him away, to slap his hand from her mouth, to remind him she wasn’t some porcelain thing to hide in a cupboard. The other part… 

The other part catalogued every detail greedily-the way his ribs expanded against hers with each breath, the faint hitch when her fingers tightened unintentionally in his gi, the ghost of familiar shampoo in his hair from Mistaké’s shop. 

He had spent months watching her from a distance, always reaching and never quite touching. Now he was everywhere. It was dizzying. 

The footsteps outside grew louder. 

“Check every room,” a voice barked, muffled through the door. “Soto wants the crew found and detained. Leave no area untouched.” 

Pirates. 

The word didn’t need to be said. It hung in the air between them, twisting the tension into something sharper. 

Harumi forced herself to focus on the danger instead of the way his thumb shifted slightly against her skin when another step outside made him tense. 

The boots moved past their door. Another latch rattled down the hall. A door banged open. Shouting. The scrape of furniture. 

Lloyd’s hand stayed firmly over her mouth. 

He was close enough now that she could feel his heartbeat punching against her chest in counterpoint to her own. Not as steady as he probably wanted it to be. Not as unaffected as he pretended. 

Very slowly, she exhaled against his palm. It came out more like a shudder. 

His gaze flicked to her mouth and then back up. For a fraction of a second his composure cracked. She saw something raw there-fear, yes, but also the sharp, unwanted awareness of exactly how entangled they were. 

He dragged his hand away like it burned him. 

“We have to warn them,” she mouthed, now that she could speak. 

He shook his head, the motion small but decisive. “It’s too late,” he whispered, voice roughened by more than just the need to keep quiet. 

The hopeless practicality of it made her chest ache. He was right. From the sound of it, the pirates were already sweeping the ship. 

“Then what do we do?” she asked. 

He listened again, weighing options she couldn’t hear. For a moment the mask he’d been wearing around her slipped entirely, replaced by the same ruthless focus he'd had working for his father. 

When he finally shifted back, it was with purpose. 

He stepped away just far enough to give her space to breathe. Cool air slid into the gap between their bodies and she felt its loss like a physical thing. 

He lifted a hand, palm out-an order she recognized from training even without words. 

Stay. 

Every part of her wanted to refuse. To fling the door open and throw herself into the chaos, blade drawn, consequences be damned. The idea of being shut away while everyone else faced the danger clawed at her pride. 

But she wasn’t just Harumi anymore. She was the one with the leaf at her belt, the one who knew about the bracelet choking his powers, the one who understood exactly what they stood to lose if every single one of them got captured. 

She nodded, once. 

He didn’t touch her again as he slipped out. The absence of his weight pressed against her felt abruptly colder. 

The door cracked open just enough for him to slide through. For a heartbeat she saw the sharp outline of his shoulders, the way he squared them as he stepped back into the corridor. 

Then the closet swallowed her again, leaving her alone in the dark with the echo of his palm against her mouth and the ghost of his body still imprinted against her own.