moonlight | ninjago

✧ prologue

Midnight hangs over Ninjago like a blanket of darkness. Despite how late it is, Ninjago City is lively as always. Neon lights and glowing lanterns illuminate the night, and the purring of vehicles and voices of people drift up into the air. With all the light and life, it's no wonder the rest of the world calls it the city that never quits.

On the south side of the city—farther from the bright lights and life—stands a small old building, long-abandoned and nearly crumbling at the seams. Silhouetted against the night sky, a lone figure stands atop the roof, eyes narrowed as he stares off into the distance. Among the various other sounds of Ninjago City, loud music and awful singing reaches his ears from somewhere close by, making him groan and grit his teeth. How unfortunate, he thinks, that someone felt the need to build a karaoke club of all places near his home. What luck, right?

Then again, he really shouldn't be surprised. Luck hasn't been on his side in a very long time.

The young man sighs and hangs his head. His dear sister warned him this would happen if he didn't clean up his act. She told him this life would leave him with nothing but regrets, but like a fool, he'd ignored her. He's made a lifetime's worth of bad choices, and she's no longer there to guide him or bail him out. At the end of the day, he's got absolutely nothing of value to show for the life he's lived.

Well...maybe one thing, not that it's done him much good.

He pats his pocket, feeling the crystals inside, gaze shifting to stare at his hands. As he does, he feels it: magic, his magic, stirring and pulsing deep within him. Carefully, he summons a small plume of it, watching as the bright green orb hovers above his open palm. He huffs and tears his gaze away from it, glaring up at the sky. All that potential to do something great right at his fingertips, and yet, here he is—a bum, living in an abandoned building, doing anything but the right thing to get by.

"I'm sorry, Hitomi," he mumbles as he hangs his head. "You were right."

He can only imagine how disappointed she'd be if she saw him now.

He sighs and curses under his breath, waiting for a change he knows will never come.

------------------------

Atop the Mountains of Impossible Height, the Monastery of Spinjitzu sits in stillness. Everyone has retired to their rooms long ago, leaving the grand building dark and silent.

Everyone except for one person.

Master Wu paces back and forth in the shadows of his chamber. He takes a breath, inhaling the room's faint aroma of tea leaves and smoke, before exhaling steadily. Staying up late is something he's used to doing, but recently his reason for it has become more...specific. A familiar face has been lingering in his mind more and more as of late, an old friend seemingly come back to haunt him.

It has to mean something. And he's certain he knows what.

He gazes out the window with an unreadable expression. The sky stretches across the land in an expanse of inky black, completely devoid of stars. The only source of light is the full moon high above, which bathes the Monastery courtyard in a soft silver glow. He closes his eyes, lowering his head slightly.

It's on lonely nights like these that he misses that old friend the most. What happened to him was so long ago, and yet the pain in his heart still feels fresh when he thinks about it. He had such a wonderful life ahead of him that had simply disappeared in the blink of an eye. And as hard as Wu has tried, he's never been able to fully rid his conscience of guilt. Ultimately, there was nothing he could've done—and yet, he still can't help but feel like he could've done more.

Another breath escapes the old master as he tears his gaze from the window. His dear friend may have vanished long ago, but his legacy hasn't. He hasn't seen his wife since he disappeared all those years ago, which was for the best at the time. His daughter hadn't even been born then. He presumes she must be around his pupils' age by now, if not perhaps a bit younger. Her age is one of the many things he doesn't know about her, but there are two things of which he's certain:

She's still out there. Which means she remains oblivious.

Wu strokes his beard thoughtfully. He made a promise all those years ago, and he considers himself a man of his word. To go back on that now would most definitely cause friction. Even so, lately he's found himself less and less able to sit idly by. Every day that passes is another opportunity wasted to help her find who she's truly meant to be. He can't imagine this is what his friend would have wanted.

Perhaps she can pick up where he left off.

Within reason, of course. The truth, as Wu has learned, can be dangerous, and the entirety of this truth is no exception. He can't tell her everything. He never can—it's not worth the potential risk, not worth anyone else getting hurt. However...

"It's time she knew," he murmurs, nodding decisively. "At least half of the truth."

And as for the rest, well...perhaps some secrets are better left buried.