He walked for miles, the city lights of Ninjago City a distant, hazy glow against the horizon. Each step was an assertion of his new, lonely freedom. He wasn't running; he was deliberately putting distance between himself and everything he'd known. The monastery, his family, the title of Green Ninja—he shed them all like a skin he no longer wanted.
He found himself drawn to the docks, the sprawling waterfront a perfect place to become another face in the crowd. Here, among the transient sailors and bustling commerce, anonymity was a way of life. The air smelled of salt and fuel, a sharp, cleansing contrast to the incense and old wood of the monastery. He shed his gi, trading it for a faded hoodie and tattered jeans he bought with the last of his spare cash. He was no longer Lloyd Garmadon, the Green Ninja. He was just another kid, another lost soul looking for a place to disappear.
He took up a job on a fishing boat, a rough, calloused crew of people who didn't care about his past or his destiny. They only cared that he could pull a net, and he worked with a silent, determined fervor that earned him their grudging respect. The work was hard, the food was simple, and the nights were spent in a cramped bunk, the gentle rocking of the boat a strange but comforting lullaby. For the first time in his life, his body felt useful in a way that wasn't tied to saving the world. His muscles, once defined by intense training, now served a more practical purpose, hauling ropes and mending nets.
The weight gain was slow but steady. The simple, hearty meals on the boat were a stark contrast to Misako's watchful eye and whispered insults. His body, grateful for the sustenance, slowly started to repair itself. With each pound he gained, he felt a small piece of his spirit return. He learned to differentiate between hunger and Misako's voice in his head, a distinction he hadn't known he needed to make.
The mental scars, however, were not so quick to heal. He was constantly on guard, flinching when someone raised their voice, or withdrawing when someone offered him food. He learned to ignore the gnawing fear that he wasn't doing enough, wasn't being strong enough, wasn't worthy enough. He focused on the simple tasks: the rhythm of the waves, the tang of the salt spray, the quiet camaraderie of his crewmates.
Meanwhile, back at the monastery, Misako's reign of quiet cruelty continued, her manipulations more subtle now that Lloyd was gone. "Such a disappointment," she would say to Wu, a mournful expression on her face. "Running away like that. We tried so hard to help him, but his self-pity was just too much." The ninja, blinded by guilt and misdirection, believed her. They scoured Ninjago, searching for their lost brother, never suspecting that the very person they were with was the one who had driven him away.Lloyd, on the other hand, was finally starting to feel a flicker of hope. He wasn't the Green Ninja anymore, but he was something else. Something simpler, something his own. He was just Lloyd, a kid on a boat, slowly rebuilding himself, piece by painful piece, under a vast, unjudging sky.
