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Harumi isn't guilty.
At least, she doesn't feel guilty.
She rationalizes why she did what she did, even expects the worst outcome, and mentally prepares for that.
But Lloyd can't understand.
He needs her to want to fight for this.
"Arson, kidnapping, murder"; a hundred sets of eyes bask her in anticipation. They want a witch-burning, she's a blot on the perfection of society.
Harumi's shackled, seemingly more so these days, and Lloyd grimaces from across the courtroom.
"Regicide,"
"youthful offender"
They can't believe it.
She's thought about it a lot, how angry they are. When you defy society, society always gets a chance to say what it wants, but she doesn't. She's hurt too, but no one wants to hear that.
Lloyd teaches her to be sorry.
Not to be sorry to those you hurt, he explains, but to be remorseful for the anger that compelled you to hurt.
He promises her, she matters.
At first, between a glass wall.
Until her bail is posted, and Lloyd pays it.
Having a guy pay her bail gives her a feeling she hasn't felt since middle school. Living with Kai and Nya in their shabby one-story house in downtown Ninjago makes her feel like a child again.
She's not exactly part of anything, but it's fun to pretend.
She's not alone, at least.
In the morning, people wake one by one; Kai first, shower, Nya next, and coffee brewing. Harumi loves coffee, she didn't know that before she met Nya.
Lloyd always wakes last.
She lays in his bed and waits.
And when she gets tired of waiting, she makes this clear.
"Just go away, Rumi," Lloyd's free hand is stretching to push her away, but she's properly propped onto his bed and his attempt is half-assed, at best.
"You're being a jerk," Harumi tells him.
He watches her sit idly through half-lidded eyes, scanning the room and moving items around her.
"You've got food molding on the table," She states bluntly.
Lloyd is guilty.
She knows, he has always felt guilty.
She'll listen to him tell her what for, but it's never consistent.
He's angry Morro hurt him and upset his father and his mother never care. What she did too. He thinks he could have done something and swears it's his fault; something he said or did, something he deserved. Sometimes, he thinks it's fate. Fate wants this and fate wants that.
She doesn't listen much anymore.
Instead, she shuts off the lights and lies with him, makes him hold her, and tells him to stop talking, he's breathing too loud.
Her fingers reach his hair, nails dragging across his scalp, and he lets her.
His hair is what she wants her's to look like.
Blond, blond, blond, who's a natural blond after 14? She sure isn't. She lost her color when puberty hit and now she bleaches and straightens the curls away.
Lloyd has virgin hair.
Naturally blond.
Naturally powerful.
Even when he loses, he wins.
He fights with Kai until the lightbulbs shatter and Nya pulls them apart.
When Harumi argues with Lloyd, it's for fun, and it's because she knows she's stronger than him even in that state.
Harumi bets Kai's not when he walks away.
She knows he doesn't want her here.
Nya promises she's welcome.
Harumi is welcome and she doesn't even need it. She sits with Lloyd in his room and he teaches her how to say things; holds her hand, and teaches her about people; the citizens, the laws, the rights, and the regulations. He tells her what to expect.
And he tells her not to worry.
So, she doesn't.
She sits by the window and rolls whatever hash leaves she has left.
Lloyd's room is messy. His stuff is thrown to the side wherever he could reach best at the time, but the design is nice. She likes to sit by his window often, an arm on the banister as she sits on the indented cushion below.
She's sure it wasn't designed with this intent, but she maneuvers it anyway. Harumi's not sure what will become of it when she's gone. So, she beckons Lloyd over, makes him hold the flame, and when she's done she makes him take the next hit.
They sit and talk like that sometimes.
Until she's tired and makes him clean up so she can go lie down.
Until he joins her.
And she runs her fingers through his hair like he needs her.
"Just relax, Lloyd,"
Until it's all he can see, all he can breathe, all he can think-
Her, her, her.
She wants him to be closer; to melt into her and wash away all the excess like refined iron melds into a sharp point.
Nothing like the dull edge it once was, she wants to breathe- to live- to grow. She doesn't want to die- just wants to know what it's like-
to know everything.
And she wants him to ride that wave with her, nails digging into her back, fingers grasping for touch, blond hair over everything; cascading off her shoulders, down her back, against his chest. To clutch for her, pull her tighter, remind her that he's there- that he wants her.
She wants him to want her, and Lloyd knows this.
In a rare moment, she wilts into his chest, fingers dancing along the back of his neck, pulling at loose strands of hair. Lloyd sweats, his sheets long soaked from days of confinement, but now is different.
This isn't him.
It's her.
She's crying.
And Lloyd doesn't blame her.
Her mother's killer lies here now, in her arms,
It's all she has left.