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Lloyd hated going into Arin and Soras’s shared room, not because of the insane clashing on each side of the blue tape splitting the room equally down the middle, or the odor coming from Riyu’s liter box. Or even the messy upkeep of the teenagers floor, with clothes and junk food wrappers haphazardly placed everywhere.
It was because of Arin’s small plant collection.
His succulents were fine, cute even. Those 3 bubbly and drastically different pots looked nice on Arin’s windowsill. The small cactus he had, with the singular flower blooming out the top was Lloyd’s favorite one. Those aren’t the one’s he had a problem with.
The one he did hate (the whole reason he avoided this room to begin with) was the one notoriously known for being hard to kill.
It’s why most people had one. It’s why Garmadon had one.
Arin’s baracis ninjagi, surviving even the merges cruel environment, and sitting in the largest pot in the room, made Lloyd pissed every time he looked at it.
When he had first noticed its appearance, when he was helping the kids move their stuff from their shabby apparent to the monastery — he tried focusing on the design of the pot instead, painted sloppily by Sora with yellow and pink colors. He couldn’t make any of the designs out, didn’t think it was supposed to be anything other than a couple shapes and blobs here and there anyway.
But the second his eyes drifted to what was in that pot, looking at the dirt and grime on each leaf. It made it harder for him to suppress his anger for the innocent thing.
Those petals, they were so ugly. So obnoxiously green and loud and terrible. And Lloyd was trying to ignore the fact that his gi was the exact same color. That he was only insulting himself and seemingly more deranged as he stood there in the room, focusing way too much on a plant that wasn’t even Christofern to begin with.
That was his least favorite word to think of. A stupid name and even stupider word. He hated thinking of it, hated thinking of the thing the name was attached to, wondered if Arin even named the plants he owned so that Lloyd could actually yell something to this ugly thing when things got too hard.
When it was hard, blame the plant.
When it was overwhelming, blame the plant.
When his father didn’t love him as much as he should, blame the plant
He hasn’t seen his father since before the merge and faintly wondered, if Christofern was actually capable to do so, would it have kept his dad alive.
Would it have found Lloyd’s dad by now, earning its title again as the best son ever.
As ‘ the only green in his life ’.
Tears fell from green eyes onto an equally green shirt as Lloyd threw that ugly plant across the wall, felt satisfaction in the way the porcelain pot splintered across the floor into pieces. The plant sagging from loose soil, helplessly laying there on the floor.
The real Christofern had probably grown into a big tree by now, one that would make Lloyd’s knuckles raw and hands bleed if he ever tried attacking him. It. The plant was a fucking it, always has been.
It only hurt more admitting what it was. That it was a popular baracis ninjagi plant grown all across Ninjago. That it reproduced through its pollen and did well with little to no sunlight and stored water inside of its roots for years. That it was stronger and much more capable of Garmadon’s love than the old man’s actual son.
That it did all of this, while simply being an ‘ it ’.
It wasn’t special. It wasn’t different than the rest. It looked just like the stupid one lying here beneath his feet, looked exactly like every other plant Lloyd had come in contact with.
So then why was it so special for Garmadon’s love.
Why wasn’t Lloyd special enough for Garmadon’s love.
A sad smile crept on Lloyd’s face as he heard a satisfying crunch underneath his feet when he stepped on the stupid thing, whole body weight leaning into the mess, pulverizing what lay beneath him.
It was oddly therapeutic, until the guilt of what he has done settled in.
This was Arin’s property. This was Arin’s plant.
This wasn’t actually Christofern.
Therefore, it didn’t really matter if this specific plant died or not. In a way, it didn’t really deserve it.
Lloyd knows where Christofern is though, just at the top of the hilltop outside the monastery, purposefully avoided and successfully ignored since it was planted up there. And once he cleans up this mess and apologizes profusely for what he had done, he decided he’d take a proper visit to his rival. To finish this for good.
—-
On his walk to Christofern’s hill side, Lloyd’s twisted mind thought of all the things he’d do when he got there. He could tear it to pieces, pulverize it to dust, shred it to smitherines until there was no proof this thing had actually existed.
He expected the anger bubbling up from inside to fester out of control the moment he laid eyes on the cursed tree.
No plant could ever replace him.
And no plant would ever replace him.
He got up to the tree, faintly out of breath while charging up a pure ball of energy at the base of its trunk. Ready to blast it to pieces so he could find some sort of balance in his life again. It’s the only thing that would fix this hollowness in his heart.
He screamed out of anger as he prepared his aim on the damn thing. Because if he didn’t scream, tears would swallow him whole.
A squirrel got startled from its hiding spot, a shrill voice echoing past Lloyd’s ears as the small creature cowered in fear.
And taking one glance into its petrified eyes, seeing a hollow image of himself through those fearful orbs — made Lloyd crumble, made his knees buckle as they hit the ground hard.
This wasn’t about Christofern.
It never was.
It was about the loss of a father. About the emptiness in his heart he’d never be able to cure by demolishing a tree.
Tears, big and fat, fell from his face and into the dirt below him. The irony of watering the plant he wanted dead with his own pitiful tears made an equally pitiful laugh appear.
Seeing it now, genuinely taking one last look at it until there was nothing left, Lloyd found himself unable to damage a single part of this tree.
Flourishing despite being fed soda as an infant, it was truly incredible.
Leaves thriving, pink and white flowers in full bloom, adorned by a family of squirrels scurrying across its healthy trunks and loved by every animal that came across it. Well that made it all very hard to hate it. To hate Christofern.
Because it really was quite beautiful .
It made Lloyd remember why Garmadon had this plant to begin with. Because it taught him all about compassion, something Lloyd was finding it in himself now.
Compassion.
Compassion for the simple things, for the complex things, for the very tree he felt hurt and betrayed by every time he thought about his father. Compassion for the thick bark and rounded leaves.
Compassion for Christofern.
A sense of pride washed over him as he remembered who had raised this tree from the beginning. That even though Garmadon gave Lloyd plenty of heartache, this tree right here was proof that even he was trying.
Lloyd sniffled and latched onto the photo of his father with shaking hands, the one he always kept with him in his gi, right above his heart. The one of his good father. And if he squinted just right through tear filled eyes, he could see that every version of his father he’d met was redeemable, that they were the same person.
He pressed the photo against his aching heart one last time before wedging it in a spot at the base of the trunk — crinkled the Polaroid just a bit as he placed a big enough rock on it to keep the image from blowing away in the wind.
And as he sat he listened to all the noises Chistofern was able to offer. The leaves shaking in the wind, the squirrels scurrying across the branches.
It brought him a sense of peace for the first time in a while.
“Look after him, Christofern.” Lloyd whispered softly, placing his palm on the strong bark. It slowly got easier to breath, easier to see, easier to think about exactly what he wanted to say with the peace now with him.
“Make sure he gets home safely.”