The monastery's infirmary had become a gilded cage for Lloyd. His physical recovery was swift, but his mother's presence was a shadow that darkened everything. Misako, no longer the tearful, guilt-ridden mother, was now an iceberg of cruel perfection. She saw Lloyd not as a son to be healed, but as a project to be corrected.
The first few days, she presented her new "regimen" under the guise of concern. "Darling, you must be feeling heavy from all that sugary food. Let's clean up your diet," she had said, a sharp edge to her voice. At first, the others saw it as a mother's care, but the care soon curdled into an incessant, biting commentary.
"That's enough," she would snap, pushing his plate away as he reached for a second helping. "We don't want you to regain all that weight, do we? You'll just slow the team down again." The others, so used to her previous, fragile persona, were stunned into silence, unable to reconcile this with the Misako they thought they knew. They believed her to be firm but fair, a mother's tough love. They didn't see the silent, chilling cruelty in her eyes.
The infirmary lights were a harsh glare, but nothing was as sharp as Misako's eyes. She sat beside Lloyd's bed, a study in quiet disapproval. While the ninja fussed and cared for Lloyd's physical health, Misako focused on his mind, on his weaknesses. Her words were not loud, but they were precise, like tiny, venomous barbs.
"Such a pity," she would murmur, not to Lloyd, but to the room, as if sharing a painful observation. "So much potential, and to see it undone by a lack of discipline. You know, Garmadon always had such a powerful build. Such a presence. You... you've just melted away."When Kai brought a bowl of Zane's expertly crafted nutrient-rich soup, Misako's smile was thin and cold. "Oh, Kai, bless your heart. But we can't let him get comfortable now, can we? A hero can't be weak. A hero must be strong." She would wait until the others left before leaning in close to Lloyd. "Besides," she whispered, her voice like a serpent's hiss, "we wouldn't want you to go back to being a little pig, would we? Remember how you used to be? All puffy and soft?"Lloyd's already fragile self-esteem shattered. The compliments from his friends felt hollow and meaningless next to his mother's words. He had been so proud of his transformation, of becoming the Green Ninja, of finally finding a place to belong. But Misako's words turned his triumph into a new source of shame. His powerful form, a symbol of his destiny, became a reminder of his former self, a "soft" and "puffy" child unworthy of a hero's mantle.
As Lloyd's physical condition improved, the verbal abuse worsened. Misako's comments grew more hurtful and direct. During training, if Lloyd struggled due to weak muscles, she would look away, sighing in disappointment. "I expected more from you, Lloyd," she would say. "Your father was never this fragile."
Misako would manipulate Lloyd with mind games, portraying his hunger as gluttony and his exhaustion as laziness. When Jay tried to give him a cookie, a small act of kindness, Misako interfered. "Jay, a hero's body is a temple, not a trash heap. We must be vigilant." Jay, confused and intimidated, backed down reluctantly. Others also became subject to her subtle manipulations, with their good intentions twisted into flaws in Lloyd's character.
One night, the abuse reached a critical point. Lloyd, in bed, overheard his team's hushed voices outside his door. Zane, sounding concerned, said, "Misako, his vitals are normal now. But he is still not eating enough. His psychological markers are... worrisome."Then, Misako responded dismissively. "Nonsense, Zane. A little hardship builds character. You should know that. He simply needs to learn to control himself."
In that moment, something shifted within Lloyd. He had always trusted his mother, believing her actions, however distant or strange, stemmed from a mother's love. However, in her dismissal and cold disregard for his pain, the illusion shattered. She didn't want him to improve; she wanted control. She wasn't building him up; she was systematically destroying him.
The next morning, the team found Lloyd gone. His bed was neatly made, with a note on the pillow. He had packed a small bag and left during the night, abandoning what he thought was a safe place. The neglect of his friends had pushed him to the edge, but it was his mother's cruelty that pushed him over. The team, filled with guilt, realized too late that they had been blinded by a mother's false facade, leaving their brother to face his own struggles alone.
