Chapter Text
Being a hybrid wasn’t easy. Some might call it a curse. Cole felt more indifferent.
He never wished for a different life, finding it a waste of time to daydream about the impossible. His mother was proud and brave, and she raised him to make use of his circumstances instead of loathing them. Lily Brookstone, a black bear hybrid, fell in love with a poetic human. A rare occurrence as most humans fear to “taint” their bloodline with the animal gene mutation. Lou was never one to be held back by something as shallow as appearances. He certainly didn’t bat an eye when their son branded the same genetic features as his mother. Cole knew he was lucky to have a father so involved. Sometimes he wished he weren’t. Just because Lou loved his family didn’t mean he understood what it meant to be treated like them. He never received dirty looks in the marketplace or endured sitting alone at school. Lou never had insults whispered in his direction just for existing in the same space as other people. Which is why he also never understood Cole’s hatred of the stage.
Lily was always strong and always kind. She would wipe Cole’s tears when the other students poked fun at him and would be in the audience to cheer him on. She would be the one to shoo away the stage fright and comfort him when the judges once again overlook him. And then she got sick.
And when her illness took her, Lou took to the stage to cope. He sang and danced and performed and Cole hated him for it. So Cole left.
Cole wasn’t sure what to expect when he followed the mysterious elder he met atop the tallest mountain. The promise of destiny and purpose was enticing—a nice distraction from the grief that swallowed his once warm and welcoming home. At first, being alone in a dojo that probably once held a full family had been a little awkward and lonely. Most rooms were empty, yet dust never settled on the untouched shelves and furniture. Days filled with training, meditation, and an occasional fishing trip with his new sensei. It was odd, but he enjoyed the company of the elderly human. It was far from the theatrics of his father, far enough from home, that maybe he could forget what had happened there.
And then Wu returned one day with another boy. And suddenly he missed the silence a little bit.
He was much younger than Cole, scrawnier, and restless. A never-ending string of words flowed from his mouth the second he entered the monastery’s walls. They did share one trait, however, the hybrid gene.
Cole learned his name, “Jay.” He was an ocelot hybrid from the outskirts of Ninjago City. Cole recognized the sharper accent that the weatherman on the TV spoke as well.
Unsure what to make of him, Cole first avoided the ocelot. However, he could admit having someone else to train with made the monastery a lot livelier. They bonded over their bizarre teacher and how he seemed to connect with them on a level they had not yet recognized as spiritual.
Cole eventually found he didn’t mind Jay as much. His antics could be exhausting but Cole got a good laugh out of it in the end. Jay was skittish and a little nervous but he never took Cole’s teasing lying down either. He would push back just as much and Cole enjoyed the banter they formed.
When they both became comfortable in each other’s company, Wu returned from his travels with yet another student.
“We need to stop letting him track in so many strays,” Cole had commented drawing a snicker out of Jay.
This one was a stark contrast to Jay. They were tall and lanky, eyes sharp and intelligent. They didn’t seem shy but certainly lacked social awareness. Instead of coming in ready to be known, they seemed a bit confused and awkward. Though the large feathered appendages that sprouted from their back were unmistakable, they were a hybrid as well.
A snowy owl, to be exact. Cole had never seen an avian hybrid before and was awestruck at the power and grace this one seemed to hold. Something about them seemed intimidating. Cole never considered himself an introvert, but almost wished for the solidarity of the empty monastery once more.
Jay, unsurprisingly was the first to attempt a connection. Though when all his jokes fell flat and references went unnoticed, he admitted defeat and crawled back to the familiarity of Cole’s teasing.
“Their name is Zane,” was the only helpful information Sensei had provided before leaving them to their own devices once again.
They fell back into a routine, just with another member. Cole found Zane wasn’t unpleasant to be around. They were quiet and reserved, but not rude. They listened eagerly when spoken to, but rarely had much to say themself. Cole learned they enjoyed cooking and literature. Jay didn’t have much to form a connection on but continued trying regardless.
“They’re just… weird,” Jay admitted while he and Cole scrubbed the laundry in the monastery’s courtyard. “It’s like they’ve been locked in a basement their whole life. They act like they don’t understand a word coming out of my mouth.”
Cole could tell the ocelot was becoming annoyed with Zane’s presence by the way his tail swished restlessly.
“They’re not so bad…” Cole deflected as he hung a rinsed towel to dry. Careful to not rip the material with his claws. “Sensei wouldn’t have brought them here without a reason. We just need to trust that.”
Though, inwardly Cole couldn’t help but agree with Jay. It was clear Sensei expected them all to bond. A task easier said than done. Zane almost didn’t seem capable of sharing even a sliver of their personality with them, more interested in listening and watching.
Cole could tell Zane was making an effort, even if it wasn’t extremely noticeable. They tried to involve themself in Cole and Jay’s antics even when Cole could tell that Zane didn’t understand.
Eventually, Jay learned to work past the oblivion in response to his jokes. And they both just kind of accepted the oddity that was Zane. Cole at least appreciated the more mature company when Sensei wasn’t around.
Then the old man came back with another stray. Another hybrid; this one jagged, angry, and arrogant. And that’s when shit really hit the fan.
The maned wolf known as Kai apparently had a sister who was kidnapped by sensei’s brother’s army from the underworld? Which spiraled into a quest to snag these sacred golden weapons which also resulted in opening some sort of connection to elemental powers and dragons and color-coded outfits.
One trip to the underworld later and somehow what used to be a ragtag team of hybrid outcasts were deemed ninjas, protectors of Ninjago.
Within the chaos, Kai had found his nook within the team, and something about it just felt right. Nya, Kai’s rescued sister, was also a pleasant addition to the once-empty monastery. She was younger as well, just slightly older than Jay. Despite this, she held a sense of maturity to her. One that was unmistakably formed by necessity and survival. She held the same fire as her brother, though it was more tame and controlled.
Cole wasn’t surprised when she turned out to be a hybrid, Sensei seemed to have a bias towards them. He was more surprised to see her powerful tail and fins, expecting the same fur as Kai. Nya was an orca, sturdy and intelligent. Patches of her skin trailing up her arms and around her cheeks were smooth, matching the color of her tail. He could tell by the slight webbing of her hands and the dorsal fin on her back that she was an excellent swimmer.
With two more faces, the rooms of the monastery became filled. Silence was a rare occurrence, only found in the dead of night. The monastery changed slightly. A couple of new pictures filled the walls, a gaming station was added to the sitting room, blankets that became slightly worn from use, chips in plates or scrapes on the floor from accidents, and a sense of fullness the walls have lacked for decades.
“A sanctuary.” Zane had called it once when Cole stuck around to help them clean up after dinner. A place of belonging where five hybrids found comfort and fellowship.
Cole didn’t have to ask but he assumed that this was the first consistent roof they had over their head in a long time.
“Home.” Cole corrected. He couldn’t be more grateful that the rooms were no longer empty.