CHAPTER NINETEEN

WHERE I'VE BEEN AND WHERE I'LL BE

A FEW WEEKS BEFORE EVERYTHING went to shit, Avashiro, the son of the Overlord, was officially declared a missing person's case. He was described as having short black hair, dark eyes with a hint of purple, and he bled black instead of red. If anyone was to find him, they were to report the sighting to the Ninja—or, more specifically, Lloyd Garmadon. the Green Ninja, Master of Energy, Savior of Ninjago—if you didn't know his name, well, you might have been living under a rock for a few years now.

It was only an hour after he had disappeared within the blink of an eye, but since it was the Green Ninja asking, law enforcement very well couldn't say no to starting a case then and there.

In a place far away from the middle of the city, a scream echoed through a long-forgotten temple, followed by the sound of panting as the only inhabitant of the temple fought to convince himself that he was a real person. The panting dissolved into sniffles as he had his back pressed against a table, throat aching from the scream, shadows creeping around him. Pain shot up his arm as he slammed his elbow against the table.

A secret door popped open, revealing a tattered leather journal with the words The Writings of the First Spinjitzu Master standing out in gold lettering with a sprawled-out, handwritten font. Hiro turned the book over in his hands, brows furrowed as he looked at the yellowed pages. A dead man's journal—the creator of all of Ninjago, the light, his father's greatest enemy . . . and Hiro was holding his diary.

Fuck it.

Hiro needed answers, and he would get them from anywhere he could, starting with how he had seemingly traveled miles away from the Ninja in the blink of an eye. He had never done that before—or maybe he had without realizing it. Sometimes it felt like he ran too far in a short amount of time as if the shadows pulled him where he needed to go or wanted to be; sometimes the darkness responded to his emotions, creeping around him like a safety blanket, ready to take him away from all the danger in his life and deliver him somewhere quiet and safe.

People thought of the darkness as an enemy, but to Hiro, it was an ally. One day it might even become a friend.

At the very least, he would have something to distract him from the pain in his arm and side. He was pretty sure he had pulled the stitches from his stab wound with everything that he had done that day and was 80% sure his arm was at least going to be very sore, if not fractured. Zane wouldn't be too happy to hear about that, but Zane wasn't here right now. He was dead, gone in the blink of an eye, leaving behind powdered white snow and broken hearts, and a dozen promises that he wasn't able to keep.

Hiro couldn't focus on that.

He cracked open the book.

The first thing he noticed were the little drawings made at the edges of the parchment paper, hardly what one would call good art. It was more-so stick figures with frowny faces and sketched-out eyes that littered the page and made Hiro feel like he was being watched. The drawings were that of a child—perhaps Wu or Garmadon had gotten their hands on the journal before the First Spinjitzu Master had hidden it away in this temple. If he had to guess, Garmadon had made the eyes while Wu had made the stick figures.

The next thing he noticed was that the language written in the book was old, older than Hiro was, and yet he could read it easily. A perk of his body having originally been made for his father, Hiro supposed as he stared at the faded ink on the parchment. He ran his fingers over the letters, feeling the roughness of the paper against the tips of his fingers, before he began to read, keeping an ear open for any sound of someone coming to find him.

As much as he already missed Lloyd, he wasn't ready to see anyone at the moment.

Hiro noticed, as he read on, that the First Spinjitzu Master had to have begun writing after his 'defeat' of the Overlord, but before Wu and Garmadon were born. There was no mention of them until the tenth page of the journal, written thirty years after the first page if the date was anything to go by. Garmadon was mentioned first, as he was the oldest, a few years older than Wu, and the First Spinjitzu Master described him as a calm baby, rarely crying and always eager to learn. Wu, on the other hand, cried non-stop, but only when he was in Garmadon's arms, as though he sensed the hardships that the two of them were going to face in the future.

Hiro was mentioned on the twentieth page.

A boy has been born.

I felt him come into existence. It's hard not to ignore the power of evil entering the world once again. The Overlord has tried to make himself a body, but Lady Destiny has interfered—it isn't time for the Final Battle just yet. She's had to make a new soul on a whim, and She's rather unhappy about it, but She'll allow the boy to live for now. I fear for the boy, really. His father is cruel and unlikely to love him, especially as he's messed with the Overlord's plans.

His powers are amazing as they are. But one day I am going to pass away, and before then, I want to give away my powers to those who are worthy. I will not know the boy—I will not even learn his name until he meets my grandson. But if I could make his journey easier, I feel that I must at least try. He did not ask to be born, and he will not ask to live beyond the island, but he must. It is in Destiny's plan now, even if he's already become a defier of Her. It's rather unfair of Her to punish him, but who am I to argue against Lady Fate?

I know that you'll read this one day, Heir. Please know I had only the best intentions when I made you the Master of Darkness. My sons will never know of such an element until your arrival, and they will doubt you, but you are true and good. You'll be a hero with them, Heir.

Until the next life.

Hiro felt sick.

Bile rose in his throat, making it burn, and flooded his mouth. He thankfully had the sense to push the book to the side and throw up on the ground to his left, coughing up the food he'd had in the past twenty-four hours, which, honestly, wasn't much. He needed to fix that soon, but for now, all he could focus on was what he'd read.

He was an Elemental Master.

He was the Elemental Master of Darkness because irony just had to keep striking him over the head with a metal bat. The First Spinjitzu Master knew that he existed, and had thought of him as good. But was Hiro good, when it was his fault Zane was dead? Or maybe that was just Kai's words worming themselves into his head, burrowing into his skin, as hot and sharp as the hothead's temper. Hiro did not deserve this treatment—that's what Lloyd would say, anyway.

Hiro wasn't so sure he agreed with him.

Hiro grabbed the book, folding the corner of the page he was mentioned over. Maybe he'd find some Post-It notes to bookmark what he wanted to remember, but for now, he had to run. He didn't know how soon Lloyd was going to start looking for him, but Hiro wasn't ready to see him again—to see the worry, the concern, the quiet distaste for Hiro because of his father, because the Overlord had killed the Master of Ice, because Zane was dead and Hiro was still walking, no consequences thrown his way. Destiny had made it clear that Hiro wasn't Her favorite—that he wasn't meant to be a hero at all.

Did he even deserve the name Hiro?

"Food first, existential crisis later," Hiro told himself quietly; though he tried to remain quiet as he spoke, his voice seemed to echo around him. Hiro realized that he couldn't hear anything outside of the temple either, not even a car or a horn. The snow must still be coating the city, then, or people were too busy celebrating the city being saved once again by the Ninja. Hiro's breath caught in his throat at the thought of no one mourning Zane, but he knew that if he could trust the team with anything, it was making sure Zane's memory stayed alive.

Hiro pulled his hood over his head as he walked out of the Temple of Fortitude, the diary held against his chest. He needed to get new clothes first, actually—something with pockets, a weapons belt, and a cloak. Just because he was putting himself through voluntary exile didn't mean he had to get rid of his style. All-black would do, it was technically his signature by this point, not to take that away from Cole. Maybe the cloak was overkill, but Hiro had no idea how long this cold weather would stay in Ninjago, and even then he needed an easy way to hide his face in case he came across one of the Ninjas—or, Destiny forbid, Lloyd.

Hiro wasn't sure if he could look Lloyd in the eyes again.

He had hurt Lloyd, and he would have to live with that for the rest of his life, however short that may be.

His feet hit the pavement, pulling Hiro in a direction he wasn't familiar with, but his instincts felt was in the opposite direction of the Ninja. His heart was pounding, the diary pressed against his arm and chest, and his breathing was beginning to become erratic. He knew that if he had stayed with the Ninja, Cole would be helping him breathe—or maybe, if he had stayed, Cole would hate him too.

Hiro ducked into an alley, back sliding down a wall as he choked on air. A chill was beginning to set into his bones, the show under his body crunching as he sat down. The city was silent around him, only the sound of his own breathing reaching his ears. He needed to keep going.

"Shiro, Shiro, breath," Zane was telling him, hands on his shoulders to steady him, looking him in the eye so he understood what Zane was asking of him. "Can you breath for me?"

"It hurts," Hiro says, feeling like knives were twisting into his chest, trying to reach his heart after just breaching his lungs. He was breathing, in and out and in and out again, but he was still so lightheaded—

"Hey, sorry I'm late, traffic—"

Lloyd?

There was a man in front of him, with dark hair and even darker eyes looking over Hiro with what had to be concern but felt far more suspicious. Hiro jerked away from him when he realized that the man was real; the other had the decency to take a step back, eyeing Hiro quietly as Hiro looked up at him, heart stuttering in his chest. He did not know this man—he didn't know if he would be hurt by him. But he supposed if the man was going to hurt him, he would have already done so.

"I—" Hiro's breath caught in his throat, his voice coming out wrecked.

The man hesitated before taking a seat across from Hiro, clearly trusting him enough to not hurt him immediately. Hiro eyed him suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the stranger, feeling confusion settle in his chest. At least it was a distraction from the incoming panic attack, his brain deciding to focus on the possible danger over his emotions.

"Hello, Avashiro," the man greeted, a strange accent coating his tongue, one Hiro had never heard before. Hiro pulled his knees to his chest, glaring at the man. "Relax. If I was going to hurt you, I would have. I've come to discuss a few things with you."

". . . It's Shiro," Hiro muttered. Not quite the name he preferred, but this man wasn't Lloyd—Hiro would be panicking even more if he was. "Not Avashiro. That's not my name anymore."

The man nodded. "Very well." He glanced at the book sitting beside Hiro. Hiro quickly snatched it up, holding it against his chest protectively. The man caught Hiro's gaze. "I see you've discovered your Element. That'll make my job easier."

"Your job," Hiro repeated before he'd fully processed the words. He sat up straighter. "You know I'm an Elementalist?"

A wry smile made its way onto the man's face. "I know every Elementalist in Ninjago. Destiny showed me them in Her visions." His mustache curled upwards when he smiled, Hiro noted, the markings around his eyes shifting to follow. "She recently showed me you. I'm here on behalf of Master Chen and his Tournament of Elements."

Hiro looked away, feeling even more confused than when this conversation had started. At least he didn't feel threatened by the man anymore—if anything, Hiro could take him in a fight if it came down to it. But if he was just a guy who had visions . . . well, combined with his age, he didn't exactly have a fighting chance. "Sorry. I don't know how to use my powers. And I don't know who this Chen guy is."

"Which is why Master Chen wants you to join him on the island before he sends out the invitations," the man said, pulling Hiro's attention back to him. The man grimaced, looking at the floor. "I would prefer to be having this conversation in a restaurant, not on the street. Don't you agree?"

Hiro stared at him openly, blinking owlishly. This man was strange.

"I, uh. I guess," Hiro muttered, not sure if he wanted to go anywhere with this stranger. He had no one to help him if something happened—this could just be a ploy to kidnap him. Then again, Hiro had powers. He could help himself. "Why are you doing this?"

"I myself think it would be unfair if you competed in a tournament without any training," the man said simply, concern in his tone, something Hiro didn't appreciate. "Master Chen believes that everyone should have a fair chance at this tournament. It would hardly be gracious of him to invite you and allow you to lose within the first round."

Hiro glared at the man, clutching the book in his hands tighter. "Who said I'm even competing in your stupid game?" he asked tightly.

The man sighed, spreading his hands. Hiro quickly noticed that they were empty. "We would provide you with housing and food." Hiro's stomach rumbled at the thought of food, his mouth filling with saliva. He really needed to start eating more if he didn't want his body to have these types of reactions. "And by training your powers, you will be able to get ahold of them." He smiled again, unnerving Hiro. "Besides, I happen to know which of your powers are connected to your Element, and which ones are biological."

Hiro frowned, glancing at the ground. There was a lot of trash spread around, and the snow was melting into their clothes. "There's a difference?" he asked, voice smaller than he wanted it to be.

Where he expected to see judgment, the man only nodded. "And if, after your training, you decide that you don't want to be an Elementalist . . . we can take your Elemental powers."

Hiro fully looked up at him, eyes wide. "You can do that? You can take them away? Can you do that now?"

The man frowned. "Surely you want to know if you can handle them," he pointed out.

Hiro shook his head. "No. I don't want them. I'm not fit to be an Elementalist and who wants Darkness as their power anyway? You can have them, I don't want them," Hiro rambled, beginning to feel hopeful at the idea of not having to deal with his powers. Maybe without them, he could go back to the team without feeling guilty. He could get rid of the darkness inside of him, prove that he's good—prove that he's enough.

The man looked thoughtful for a moment. "Train with us," he said. "Practice your powers—all of them. Compete in the tournament. And at the end, we'll see if you still want them taken." He stood, then offered his hand to Hiro. "Come, Shiro. We shouldn't wait in the snow any longer." He chuckled. "I know a fine noodle place we can eat at and discuss more."

Hiro stared at his hand, considering. If he accepted this man's offer, he would have to train his Elemental powers—but he'd also have food and a roof over his head. If he didn't . . . he could ignore that he was an Elementalist, go back to the team, and lie. Or try to survive on his own, in a city he barely knew, hiding from everyone who would be looking for him. Or . . . he could have his powers taken. He wouldn't have to lie to the team, and he wouldn't have to survive on nothing.

He could disappear. Not forever, but just long enough to figure everything out. To figure himself out.

Hiro took his hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He eyed the man wearily. "I told you my name. What's yours?"

The man placed a hand on Hiro's shoulder, leading him out of the alley.

"Clouse."

( BIRTHRIGHT — TOURNAMENT OF ELEMENTS )

Clouse took him to Chen's Noodle House, all the way on the other side of the city. He had eventually taken his hand off of Hiro's shoulder, but Hiro had decided to stick it out—if what Clouse said was true, then Hiro could have his elemental powers taken away. He didn't know which of his powers were elemental and which weren't, or if any of them weren't elemental, but Hiro would give up all of his powers if it meant not being an Elementalist. No matter how much he relied on them, his powers just weren't worth the trouble.

Clouse didn't seem to agree.

"Your powers are unique," the man said as he placed a bowl of noodles in front of Hiro, who didn't have enough dignity to outweigh his hunger. "By training them, they'll grow stronger, easier to use. To take them now would be . . . useless," he decided.

"Useless," Hiro repeated between bites of food. "For who?"

Clouse was quiet for a moment before he smiled thinly. "Without training, your powers remain weak. It would be harder to relieve you of them," Clouse said, giving Hiro a once-over. The restaurant was empty—that was the first thing Hiro had noticed. He had a feeling that if even one patron was inside, Hiro's presence would be reported to the Ninja. "If you want us to take your powers, you have to make them worth taking. There's no point taking powers that are weak, and my spell would not work with powers that are undeveloped."

The explanation didn't make much sense to Hiro, but he also knew next to nothing about magic and Elemental powers. He'd rather take this strange man's words with a grain of salt, but if Clouse was willing to take away the Elementalist side of him . . .

"So I train my powers." Hiro stirred the noodles in the bowl lazily as he looked at Clouse. "And then you'll take them once they're strong? No . . . making me into a soldier or something?"

Clouse chuckled, a deep laugh that set Hiro on edge in a way he couldn't explain. "Correct. Master Chen has no use for soldiers that he can't find on his own. And I have a feeling you would be very difficult to keep in line."

Hiro shrugged, feeling his face warm at the accusation. He knew he was difficult to worth with—that was on purpose. But for someone he didn't know him to conclude that? Ouch. "Could I leave the island before the tournament? It'll draw too much attention if I'm there before everyone else."

Clouse nodded once. "You have the power to do that, Shiro. Surely you've noticed that you're able to travel by shadows by now."

Hiro faltered, eyes widening briefly. He knew that there was something strange about the way he moved when the shadows called to him, but he'd thought his memories were just . . . broken. When he didn't remember leaving Garmadon's school but was found outside by Nya, or when he had turned down the alley to get away from Kai and found himself in front of the Temple of Fortitude. He assumed he just had more important things to remember. But traveling through the shadows . . . made a lot more sense than a bad memory.

Clouse smiled. "I see. Well, I may not be an Elementalist or a sensei, but Destiny was kinder to you than others in my vision." Hiro scoffed under his breath, though kept quiet otherwise. Destiny wasn't kind—honestly, She was a bit of a bitch. "You have umbraportation. It's not specific to the Darkness element . . . anyone could do it if they trained hard enough, though not without risk. It comes naturally to you." The smile on Clouse's lips turned sarcastic, almost a sneer. "Maybe a little too naturally, if you had no idea you were doing it."

Hiro trained his gaze on the table, frowning. It felt like Clouse was scolding him for not understanding his own powers.

"How does it work?" Hiro asked softly.

Clouse sighed. "That's up to you to figure out. I hope you do before the tournament." Hiro nodded. He knew he couldn't have all the answers handed to him, but it would have been nice. "Destiny told me there's more, but she wouldn't explain further than that. The rest is up to you."

Hiro sighed, pushing the bowl away from himself. "And if I say no?"

Clouse paused before he sighed deeply. "Then I have another piece of information that will convince you." Hiro's brows pinched together as he looked at Clouse, curious. "The Master of Ice . . . you'll be happy to know that he's alive."

Hiro sucked in a sharp breath and coughed when it got caught in his throat. If he could have backed away, he would have. "Liar," he hissed at Clouse, who gave him a blank look. "You're lying. I saw him die. We all saw him die." Hiro's fists clenched in his lap as he glared at the older man. Clouse placed his hands in the middle of the table, leaning forward. "What are you doing?"

"Let me show you," Clouse said simply.

"What?"

"I can show you the Master of Ice on Chen's island." Clouse smiled thinly. "You'll forgive me for not showing you his location. We need his presence to convince the Ninja to join our tournament. Perhaps he can help to convince you too."

Hiro's gaze flickered between Clouse's eyes and the man's hands, trying to think over his options. Clouse was lying—he had to be because if he wasn't that meant Zane was alive, possibly trapped on an island alone, and Hiro knew that even if he could bring himself to go back to the Ninja and convince them of this idea, they wouldn't be able to save Zane without a lay of the land. But if Clouse was telling the truth, if Zane was alive . . . then wasn't it Hiro's responsibility to save him? Hiro's dad was the reason Zane was gone—Hiro should fix that.

Hiro placed his hands into Clouse's, closing his eyes.

It felt like his physical body was pulled through the darkness, though Hiro knew that he was still in the restaurant. He didn't open his eyes, but slowly the surroundings changed—from the darkness he experienced when his eyes were closed to a ferry. It was like he was seeing the world through someone else's eyes, and after a moment he realized that was what was happening—he was in Clouse's memories, after all.

There was a man, long-haired with an eyepatch, leaning against one of the posts on the boat. Beside him was Pixal, sitting on the floor with her hands tied behind her back; beside her was Zane, silver in color and clearly asleep—or whatever Nindroids did. Pixal was struggling, glaring up at the man in the eyepatch. There was a patch of duct tape over her mouth, preventing her from arguing with him. Hiro could hear his own blood rushing in his ears, angry at how Zane and PIxal—his friends—were being treated.

Clouse walked forward, looking from the two tied-up Nindroids to the man in the eyepatch. "Well done," Clouse said, his voice an echo in the vision. "Master Chen will be pleased."

The man rolled his eye. "Yeah, yeah. When do I get paid?" he asked, voice deep.

Hiro could feel it when Clouse smiled thinly—as if he himself was making the expression. "Master Chen will pay you when we reach the island. He'll be pleased to know that your services are . . . dependable," Clouse decided. He glanced at Pixal. "We'll have to make sure you don't run into the Heir, of course. He won't be pleased with how you've treated his friends."

The man shrugged, arms crossed. "I can take a kid."

Clouse chuckled under his breath, turning away. "I guess we'll see."

There was a whirling sound that made Clouse turn around. Zane's head snapped up, the Nindroid finally awake, and took on a panicked expression when he realized that he and Pixal were trapped on a boat in the middle of nowhere, with people they didn't know.

"Hello? Who are you? Where are we?" Zane demanded, struggling in the ropes tied around him.

"Relax, Master of Ice," Clouse said, moving closer to Zane and crouching in front of him. "All will be explained soon." He grinned, watching himself in the reflection of Zane's eyes. "You have a friend waiting for you on the island. I'm sure you'll be happy to see how powerful he's become."

Hiro ripped his hands out of Clouse's, trying to catch his breath. "But . . . he died. It hasn't even been a day, how is he—?"

"He isn't, yet," Clouse admitted. Hiro stared at him. "Destiny showed me a man named Ronin, and when I dug further . . . I don't know how he's alive, or how he will come back, but Ronin brings him and the other robot to Chen in a few weeks' time." Clouse smiled. "Destiny knows what will happen. You and I both know this. Her vision is set in stone."

"I wasn't," Hiro pointed out.

Clouse chuckled lightly. "Perhaps not. But after your existence began, She strengthened her grip over us all. I assure you, Shiro, that the Master of Ice will return. If he doesn't, I'll take your powers before they're ready and send you on your way."

Hiro rested his elbows on the table, holding his head in his hands. "You—. . . if you're lying to me, I will kill you." Hiro looked up, meeting Clouse's eyes. "Do you understand me? I will kill you and I will make it painful. You don't fuck with my friends. You got that?"

Clouse had the decency to look uncomfortable. He nodded. "I understand, Shiro. Will you join me on Master Chen's island?"

Hiro sighed, sitting back and giving a nod. "I'll join you."

When Clouse smiled, Hiro could already feel regret settling in his bones.