A/N: Hello again, readers. I've had this idea for quite awhile now, and figured it was time to put it out there. There will be several chapters for this story (Morro telling from his P.O.V.), and then hopefully one shots based off of this and other Ninjago stories.

I have another Ninjago fic called Nightmares, that you could check out if you are interested. For now, onwards!

I know what you're thinking.

"Morro! You possessed the Green Ninja and almost destroyed Ninjago. You and the Preeminent. You're crazy!"

And you're not wrong. Especially about the crazy part. Being in the Cursed Realm for over forty years had to have messed with my mind. But you should learn my side of the story before you scream about how I almost killed everyone. You shouldn't believe everything those ninja tell you. They definitely over exaggerated. Plus, they don't know what I know. The truth is, I'm not such a bad guy. I mean, sure I killed people for a living- oops! We'll get to that later.

This is a story you've never heard before; my story. My point of view.

So just sit back, relax, and enjoy it. Hey, maybe you'll learn something new.

First, let's start where my story began. In an orphanage.

I was born in Ninjago on April, Friday the 13th (Unlucky me!). My parents left me on the steps of the Ninjago Orphanage, where I grew up. There were about thirty kids along with me and two women who ran things (matrons, in orphanage lingo) and one man who worked in the office. I didn't see him much. Anyway, that's not important.

I hated the place. To this day, I still do. Why? I was picked on. A lot. I don't really want to get into detail about it, but the kids sucked, let's just say that. At about age seven, I gave up hoping to be adopted by some loving family because let's face it; who would want some kid whose own parents didn't even want him?

As much as I hated the orphanage, it was where my powers first manifested.

One day as a kid was bugging me, not too out of the ordinary, something… snapped… inside of me. Maybe just being picked on too many times. Regardless, I only realized what I had done when one of the matrons grabbed me and shook me. The boy was slumped on the floor across the room from me, cradling a broken arm. I on the other hand, was grounded.

I later had some of the other kids fill me in on what happened. The boy was picking on me and the air dropped in temperature. It felt like there was a breeze inside of the room. I swatted at him and he went flying across the room. Pretty sure eight year olds shouldn't be able to do that.

I used the time alone while I was grounded to ponder. How can I do this? Did my parents know what I was capable of? Is that why they left me? If they knew now, would they want me back? What else can I do?

None of these questions were answered until later, of course. I didn't know anyone else who could do what I can do.

I didn't stay in the orphanage for more than a year after that.

I'm still not exactly sure to this day how it happened, but there was a fire. One kid knocked over a candle or something and whoosh! Everything burst into flames. In about an hour, the entire building had burned to the ground and took the lives of more than half of the kids. I was one of the seven survivors.

Unfortunately, we weren't completely untouched by the fire. Some of us had burns. Bad ones. My asthma was five times worse from the smoke inhalation. Yeah, I had asthma. I might, if I feel like it, get into that later.

This next part is something I don't understand to this day: The seven of us were on our own. No adults would take us in, and nobody tried to take us to another orphanage. But in their defense, who cares about a bunch of orphans? If their own parents didn't even want them, why would anyone else?

We stuck together for awhile, but one by one, we split apart. One kid went solo, two went in a pair, a trio, and then another solo kid. Nobody wanted a nine year old to take care of. I was utterly alone.

For almost a year, I had no roof over my head and no steady meals. I'd beg for scraps of food and money (I'd never steal, I was too honest of a kid to do that) and once in a while I could buy something fresh. But most of the time I'd go days without eating more than half of an apple. I looked through trash cans for food often. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.

You probably know this next part.

I'd been on the streets for about a year, at this point. I hadn't eaten anything except for a bit of leftover Chinese takeout I found in the trash two days before. I was absolutely desperate. The closest place was a monastery, where a certain sensei lived alone. Even with the long climb up the seemingly endless stairs, it was worth a try for some sort of food. Even just a little bit.

I was rooting through the trash cans with some other beggars, but was too focused to realize that they had all ran. He was out. The sensei was standing not ten feet away from me, but I didn't run. I'm not sure why.

He brought me out some food, real food, and I took it, gratefully, too hungry to listen to all of my senses telling me not to trust him.

He introduced himself to me, and I to him. His name was Wu, and he was a sensei. He trained ninja. It sounded so cool, and wouldn't it to any nine year old? He asked me where my parents were, and why I was on the streets. I explained to him my situation: I was an orphan and the orphanage burnt down, so us survivors took to the streets. Not that we had a choice.

He made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He said he would let me stay with him and train me as a ninja, as long as I helped him around the monastery. You know, chores and stuff. It seemed too good to be true. I hadn't had a roof over my head, good meals or a regular bath in months.

From then on, I lived there. And it was amazing, for a little while. But all good things come to an end.

The years I spent at the monastery were some of the best years of my life, as much as I didn't want to admit that to myself for a long time. I especially excelled in his lessons on self defense, and I'm not just saying that to be arrogant. Okay, maybe I am a little bit. I enjoyed every moment of being taught how to beat my opponents into submission. (Even though he told me that violence wasn't always the answer. Whatever.)

Self defense wasn't all he taught me, though. He also taught me things that I would've learned in school. Basic things like reading, writing and math.

It wasn't long until he found about my power, or "special-ness", as I called it before I found out that I was an elemental master. It was a windy day and Wu decided it was time to teach me how to use a kite. He'd gone to get his tea, leaving me outside, telling me to stay put until he got back.

I figured out how to use the kite. Just not the… normal way.

Wu was astonished. He took me back inside and told me that I was the Elemental Master of Wind, and that one of my ascendants must have been an elemental master. This was exciting, one, because I finally had some sort of information about my parents. I don't know why it gave me the satisfaction to know something about them, when now I could care less. Two, because for once I was more than a street rat; an orphan beggar. I was an elemental master. I was special. I had something that others didn't.

It wasn't long before Wu introduced me to something new: a prophecy. The prophecy stated that a ninja would rise up over the others to be the savior of Ninjago. A hero. The Green Ninja.

Wu figured that that could possibly be me. What with my excellence in fighting and the mysterious green streak in my hair, which, I swear to you, I was born with. And doesn't my backstory seem like that of a great warrior?

I couldn't contain my excitement. I told Wu that I would train harder than ever before and do everything I could to be this "Green Ninja". I still remember him smiling rather fondly, but maybe a bit sadly and saying,

"Remember Morro, only Fate can decide."

Fate schmate, I thought. I will be the Green Ninja. I have to be.

But Fate chose otherwise.

Over the course of a few years after my learning of the prophecy, I suppose I became rather… arrogant. And maybe just a bit rebellious. I guess I was at that moody teenager phase. My entire life became obsessing over training and preparing myself to be the Green Ninja. I could tell Wu was beginning to grow tired of my recklessness and childish attitude. So at one point he told me that it was time to decide. Would Fate choose me to be a savior, or reject me?

Fate chose the latter.

The golden weapons did not rise for me like they would for the Lloyd, more than thirty years later.

I was filled with an anger and resentment that I had never felt before; a burning hatred, filling my entire being. Wu and I fought a lot after the ceremony. I admit, I hated him. More than I've ever hated anyone ever before. Except Francis… We'll get to him later. Wu made me believe that I was special. That I could be a hero. A savior. More than a dirty little boy that he found rooting through his trash cans.

Maybe a month after this, I left. I packed a bag and told Wu that I would find the First Spinjitzu Master, his father's, tomb and prove that I was the Green Ninja, despite what "Fate" had decided. He seemed so sad that day I left. But maybe also… relieved.

I think he knew what I would find there.

A/N: That wraps up Chapter One! The next chapter, depicting Morro's life after Wu, leading up the his death (which isn't as close as you might've thought), is coming soon. I'm excited for the part about the Cursed Realm though… Mwahaha! Stay tuned…

Also! If anyone can tell me how to put the grey line breaks that Fanfiction provides into a document, please DM me! I have absolutely no idea how to do it. I've heard there's a button, but I can't find it. Right now I'm just taking the underscore and using that. Thanks!