Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dear Misako,
You will be pleased to learn (if you have not already heard) that the war is over. The Serpentine will trouble us no more. We have one or two matters to attend to with the elemental masters, after which I will be at your service. Wait for me in Jamanakai; I shall come to you there as soon as I am able.
Yours,
[signed] Garmadon

It had been days since the conclusion of the debacle with the Time Twins. They were gone, lost, and the blades with them, except for the reversal blade, now sunk where only two people in existence could possibly reach it. Finally they could turn their attention to other matters.

“So, brother, what will you do now?” asked Garmadon.

Wu sipped his tea and stared out across the courtyard.

“I must resume my search for Morro,” he said, with a sigh. “This war has claimed my attention for too long, and I have lost sight of him. It is my duty to find him, for I fear the worst if he has no one to guide his path.”

Wu's eyes held a sad, faraway look, and Garmadon wondered if he was really thinking about the rogue Master of Wind, or someone else altogether.

“And what about you, brother,” said Wu, turning to him. “What will you do?”

“I think I will take a trip,” Garmadon replied, as casually as he could. “Walking helps me think.”

“You always were the restless one,” said Wu, with a kindly smile. “Until we meet again, then.”

“Until we meet again, brother,” echoed Garmadon.

He waited until he judged that Wu was well clear of the base of the mountain. Then he set out for the village.

She wondered how much longer it would be. In his letter (just a brief, business-like note this time, not like the other one!) he’d said they were just tidying up a few details after the war, but it had been much longer than she’d expected. Perhaps he’d been called off somewhere else? She thought about heading to the monastery herself, then she could see both of them. But no, he'd said to wait where she was, and she didn't want to miss him on the way.

She drummed her fingers on the desk, then caught herself doing it and stopped, annoyed. She wasn't usually this indecisive, or impatient. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, centering herself as she'd been taught. She would wait. There was work enough here in Jamanakai, rebuilding after the battles. And she trusted him. She smiled as she thought about him. Yes, Garmadon would come for her.

She was up a ladder fixing roof tiles when she heard the shouts. She and her co-workers looked round in alarm; surely not another invasion? And then she realized they were cries of welcome, and she began to hear the words that rippled through the village:

“Lord Garmadon! Lord Garmadon is back!”

She climbed down as quickly as she could, and began smoothing loose strands of hair and dusting off her work clothes before realizing it was a lost cause. And then there he was.

“Misako,” he said.

She fought the urge to run to him. Her heart was beating so fast, she thought he must be able to hear it.

“You came,” was all she could manage.

“As I promised,” he replied, with a smile. He held out his hands, and she took them without hesitation.

“We can go to my place in the country,” he'd said. The people of Jamanakai were normally a serious, hard-working folk, but it seemed everyone was giddy at the thought of the great war hero Lord Garmadon living in their midst. There was always someone wanting something from him, and the novelty had worn off. She'd agreed readily to the move, and packed up her scrolls, tools and personal items. There was only one more thing to be done before they left.

The registrar was delighted to see them, and just as happy to waive the usual waiting period. (“Because the war has made everyone wait long enough already, hasn't it!” And in any case, she thought, she was going in the history books for this one!)

“Clasp hands like this. That's right. Now, repeat after me. I, Misako Montgomery, take you, Garmadon…”

The way was long, and she started to doze as the light began to fade. A slight jolt in the road made her lift her head suddenly; they were exiting from a wooded area, and passing over a small bridge. Ahead the land sloped gently upwards before rising sharply as hills, or perhaps cliffs, she couldn’t quite tell in this light. Nestled almost against these, it seemed, stood an imposing building. The lower level was built of stone, with an ornate door in the centre, and the upper level was a combination of screens and windows. A waterwheel spun slowly on one side, powered by a stream from a waterfall that cascaded down the cliff with a ceaseless whisper.

“Nearly there,” said Garmadon, nodding in the direction she was looking.

“Is that—?” she began. “Oh…” She trailed off as realization dawned.

“When you're a lord, you have to be lord of somewhere, it seems,” he said, amused at her reaction.

A figure stepped out of a nearby house and flagged them down.

“Rody saw you coming over the last rise and ran to let us know,” said the man. A boy of about seven years stood behind him, peering excitedly at the lord. He loaded two small crates into the van with exaggerated care.

“It's all freshly prepared. I hope it's to your liking, sir,” the man continued.

“I'm sure it will be fine, Brin,” Garmadon replied. “Thank you. And thank you, Rody. I'll bring the things back in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night, sir. M'am,” Brin nodded to Misako as Garmadon continued driving towards the main house.

“I called ahead to get us some dinner,” he explained, in response to her surprised look. “Don’t worry, we'll usually be fairly self-sufficient.”

They unloaded her luggage and the food; by the time she'd cleaned herself up and changed her clothes, he'd set the dinner out on the table. He looked her up and down openly as she walked into the room.

“I don't usually like green,” he said playfully, “but it suits you well.”

She laughed with him, and they sat to eat. They cleared and washed the plates and bowls together, and he made tea for them both, and they talked about anything and nothing until it was all gone.

“It's been a long day,” he said at last.

“It has,” she agreed. He fidgeted on the sofa next to her, and for the first time there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“I know you must be tired,” he began again. “And—if you'd prefer—we can—”

She kissed him, and he folded his arms around her, banishing any thoughts of doubt.

“Misako,” he said, in a reverential whisper, and she heard her name as never before, echoing with a sense of wonder.

“Yes,” she replied. “Yes.”

She woke in the night. The small lamp had been left on, and the dim light seemed blinding at first. He'd rolled a little away from her, and the sheet lay loosely over him. She couldn't resist pulling it back and studying him with a scholar’s professional eye. You would never guess, if you didn't know that he wasn't really human at all. And to imagine what it would be like to be a thousand years old? It was inconceivable, even for a student of ancient history such as herself.

She wondered if they would have children. If they could. She thought she might like it, but on the other hand, her research would keep her busy enough. File that one for later. Her gaze passed back along his body, and she noticed a purple tattoo spreading along the back of his shoulder. The design was curious, and it reminded her of something, but she was too sleepy to place it now. She would ask him another time.

She replaced the cover, leaned over to switch out the light, and fell asleep against him.

When she woke again she was alone. A dim light filtering around the shutters told her it was early morning. She wrapped herself in the warm robe she'd brought from Jamanakai, and went to look for him.

Glancing out through a screen at the rear of the house, she saw a figure outside. She found the back door, and watched as he took his morning exercise. Lithe as a cat, slow and smooth, he moved through the forms. When he had finished, he smiled up at her, and, climbing the steps, bare feet leaving wet prints from the damp grass, he greeted her with an embrace, and she thought she could not be happier.

They breakfasted with the screens open to the invigorating morning air, looking out across the landscape. She took in the village, the fields of low vegetation, and what she now realized was an orchard, spreading on both sides of the road they'd arrived on.

“Is all this yours, then?” she wondered. He laughed softly.

“It doesn't work quite like that,” he replied. “No one owns the land, of course. And I'm not in the business of ruling over farmers and villagers.” They both chuckled at the idea.

“But they call you ‘sir’,” she reminded him.

“Best I could do,” he said, with a half shrug. “It's an improvement on ‘my lord’, at least. No, the hall is all that's really mine,” he continued. “It was originally a barn, then some previous lord built the house level on top. We could build up again, if we wanted. If we needed the space.”

She was gazing out of the window again, lost in thought, and he went on.

“To be honest, I haven't spent that much time here. Brin acts as my caretaker, agent, whatever you want to call it. He does just enough maintenance to make sure the place doesn't fall down while I'm away.”

She was still musing as he said, “I hardly bothered to set up the house—” With a glance at her, he added: “There isn't even much of a library to speak of.”

She turned to him at last and gasped in mock horror. “We’ll soon fix that,” she said.

“You should go right ahead,” he agreed, laughing at her reaction. “Pick a room for your study, whatever you need. This is your home.”

It was her home. It was their home. She smiled contentedly. Then another thought occurred to her.

“Do you think Wu will visit us here?” she asked.

It was Garmadon’s turn to stare out of the window. His expression was unreadable.

“My brother has his own priorities,” he said eventually. “I will write to him.”

Brother,
I send this letter to the monastery, though I know you will likely not receive it directly.
I write to let you know that I will not be returning there, at least in the near future. I intend to spend some time at the hall with my new wife, Misako, who wishes you to share in our good news and to know that we are very happy together.
You are welcome to visit us when your schedule allows. In the mean time, I wish you peace, and a successful outcome to your travels.
[signed] G.

Misako set up her study in the front corner room, furthest from the rumbling waterwheel. She set up the scroll rack too, with plans to take out the screen wall and expand back as their library grew. Garmadon had been correct, strictly speaking, to say there wasn't much of a library; certainly there were not many scrolls. But the ones he had brought here would merit their own exhibition, if she were ever to take them to the Museum of History back in Ninjago City. They were some of the oldest she'd ever handled, and most definitely the best kept, she thought, as she settled them in the traditional chronological order on the rack.

She selected one of these and set it on the scroll reader, a device that would carefully wind the scroll in either direction without the need to handle it constantly. When she opened it, she found a short treatise on spinjitzu in Garmadon's script; here and there, another hand had added comments and corrections.

“My father,” said Garmadon, who had come up behind her while she was concentrating.

“What?” she said, unsure that she had understood.

“My father was always critiquing our work. He kept on leaving his own notes, even when we weren't children any more.”

She was looking at the handwriting of the First Spinjitzu Master, on an impeccably preserved scroll of indisputable provenance. Her tutors back at the department would, she was certain, climb over their own mothers to see it. It was one thing to marry the son of the Creator, she reflected; another to have it so casually affirmed in her daily life.

“Wu was teaching you spinjitzu, wasn't he?” Garmadon's question cut through her thoughts.

“Yes,” she replied

“Did you achieve a tornado?”

“Yes,” she said again, lifting her chin proudly. “Didn't you ever see my lessons?”

“Wu never did like anyone to watch him teaching,” Garmadon said with a smirk.

“I wonder why not?” asked Misako.

“Can't imagine,” replied Garmadon, sardonically. “Show me!” he added, changing his tone.

“What?”

“Your spinjitzu. I want to see it. Come on!”

“What, right now?” she started to say, but he had her by the hand and was leading her down to the dojo on the lower level. They sparred for a short while as a warm-up, then he set up the practice dummy and said, “Now.”

She backed across the room, knowing she would need to take a run at it. She tried to ignore her husband and focus on the dummy, and on what she'd been taught. Jump. Kick. Turn. Jump, kick, turn. Jump kick turn jumpkickturn jumpkickturn SPIN—

She halted, breathing hard. The dummy lay defeated at her feet.

“Not bad,” said Garmadon, raising an eyebrow, and she knew he must be more than a little impressed. “I can tell who taught you, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he said. “It's nice and precise. But you could use a little more power.”

“Oh, I don't think—”

“I can teach you now. We'll work on it together. You should practise anyway.”

He was enthusiastic, and she tried, but she found she just couldn't adjust her style—Wu's style—to do what her husband wanted. His own spinjitzu had a fierce edge that she felt she would never be able to replicate, even if she wanted to. She started to make excuses to avoid practice sessions, and eventually he took the hint and stopped asking.

They settled into a routine. She turned back to her scrolls, and his, with renewed vigour. He trained daily, for stamina and for technique, in addition to his dawn practice. She went out to the village and began to know the people there. She was victorious in persuading them to call her by name, by the simple strategy of introducing herself to the children that way, so that the parents had to follow (though they were too much in awe of Garmadon to drop the “sir”). She taught some classes in the school, where long before time had a name became her signature call to storytime.

She almost asked his permission to plant a garden, before remembering it was her home too. She dug broad borders on each side of the path that led to their door, and by summer they were beginning to fill in and bloom with a muddle of colours.

“It's nice,” Garmadon said, diffidently, and she could tell he was just being polite. She thought carefully about the pace and flow of his life; then she added two small saplings that would slowly grow and spread their branches as the years passed.

She planned a fieldwork trip, and to her delight he was keen to go with her. Not only was she glad to have his company, of course; but also, the adventurer in her couldn't help but hope to tap into his unrivalled—almost unrivalled—knowledge of the realm, past and present. Who knew what discoveries they might make together? They made several expeditions, including one memorable attempt to find the location of the First Spinjitzu Master’s original home; that one didn't go quite as planned, but the paper she presented at the following year's conference at the Museum of History was extremely well received, so she couldn't really complain.

She was reading Garmadon a grudgingly complimentary review of her work in the quarterly magazine of the Explorers’ Club, when he looked away suddenly. A troubled expression passed fleetingly across his face, and then was gone.

“My brother is coming,” he said. He rose from his seat.

“Right now?” asked Misako, rising too.

He nodded. “Let me go to meet him.”

“Of course,” she murmured, sinking back.

Garmadon descended the steps from the door as Wu approached from the little bridge. The fair-haired man looked at the planted beds to either side of the path as he drew closer to the house.

“Have you taken up gardening, brother?” he asked, raising a wry eyebrow.

“Misako has the green thumb. I always forget to water them,” Garmadon replied levelly.

The two brothers regarded each other, the distance between them wider than anyone could know.

“Wu!”

Misako ran up the path and embraced him warmly. Wu reciprocated without meeting his brother's eye.

“It's been so long! I'm so glad you're here,” Misako said.

“It is good to see you again,” Wu replied. He turned his glance to his brother just slowly enough that an observer might not have been sure whether you included Garmadon or not.

“Why don't you come in and see what we've done with the place,” said Garmadon, turning back to the hall without waiting to see if Wu was following.

“It looks a little grand, but we really live very simply,” Misako said to Wu, as they strolled after him. The tree closest to the door had grown into a pleasing shape with her careful nurturing, and Wu nodded appreciatively as they passed it, as if sensing her influence at work.

She showed him through the dojo, up to the living quarters, and finally into the study and library. The scrolls now extended the full length of the wall. She chattered excitedly about her latest project, before realizing she was doing all the talking, and breaking off.

“Not at all; you have much to teach me,” he said with a smile when she started to apologize.

Back in the lounge Wu said:

“Well, brother, you seem quite settled here. No more adventures?”

Misako expected Garmadon to launch into a tale from their travels together; instead, he merely stretched languidly and replied:

“What can I say? Married life suits me.”

Wu regarded his brother impassively. But what a curious answer! thought Misako. She knew Garmadon was not exactly lazing around; he was always in motion, whether travelling or training or just pacing up and down while he thought. She was still puzzling over his meaning after dinner as she showed Wu to a guest room and they all retired for the night.

The next morning, Garmadon seemed determined to make up for his odd behavior the previous day. He was enthusiastic when Misako suggested a tour round the village, where they were trailed by children calling delightedly, Misako, Misako! He trained with Wu, and she watched as he made good-natured jokes about some supposed deficiency in his younger brother's technique. He was especially attentive to her, almost as much as when they were first married, and she couldn't help but respond warmly to his gallant, almost flirtatious behaviour.

Throughout it all, Wu maintained the faint smile he so often wore. Even after dinner, when he indicated he was turning in for the night, and Garmadon replied, “Yes, I think we will too,” while sliding an arm around her waist with an openly suggestive leer; Wu merely said, “Good night,” and left the room without any reaction.

It was all most strange; but Wu had always been the more reserved of the brothers. Even when he was teaching her spinjitzu, she remembered there had been a sense of restraint in all his actions toward her, whether sparring, adjusting her form, or speaking of the philosophical foundations of his father's way. She'd put it down to his having doubts about whether it was worth teaching her at all, and had been even more determined to prove herself and to please her teacher. But they were all family now, weren't they? Perhaps she had been trying too hard. Tomorrow I'll be sure to give him a little more space, she thought, as she began to fall asleep. I want him to feel at home here.

The next morning, she passed the door to Wu's room, and then turned back. He was rolling his sleeping mat; his pack was already assembled.

“Are you leaving us already?” she asked in surprise.

Wu sighed.

“I have many duties to attend to,” he began. “And—I should not have come. I do not wish to intrude on your happiness.”

“There's no intrusion,” she said, confused. “Stay as long as you like. It's no trouble at all.”

“Nevertheless,” Wu replied, tightening the strap around his bedroll, “I must go.”

Garmadon was at the front door already.

“Goodbye, brother,” he said dispassionately. “Safe travels.”

He really was just going to leave, she thought. What could she do? She grasped for anything that might delay him a little, just long enough to reconsider. Across the common she saw Rody, now a tall teenager, and she had a sudden flash of inspiration.

“Let's at least get a photo before you go!” she said brightly. “Rody will take it for us. Rody!”

The youth turned in their direction immediately, and it wasn't possible for either brother to argue without causing a scene. They met him at the bottom of the steps. Misako passed him the camera and turned back to Wu; Garmadon smoothly inserted himself into the centre of the group. Rody snapped the photo and waited for the print.

“Take two, so we can each have one!” Misako urged him. Rody obliged, and then frowned at the result.

“I think I caught some glare on your eyes,” he said dubiously. “I'll take another.”

Wu had already stepped forward. He scrutinized the second picture.

“It's fine,” he said. “I will have this one. Thank you, young man.”

Wu tucked the photo carefully into the inside band of his hat as Rody drifted away. Garmadon had already turned back up the steps to the house. Misako walked out along the path with Wu, whose eyes were downcast and introspective. When they reached the little bridge he paused, lifted his gaze and turned to her, with an in-breath that spoke of a decision made.

He held out his hand in farewell; she did the same. As their palms touched, he said calmly:

“I love you, Misako. I have loved you as long as I have known you, and I will love you until I go to my rest. Whatever happens, never forget that I am, and always will be, your friend.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, then turned and walked away.

She watched until he rounded the curve of the road, and was hidden by the trees.

“He's gone,” she said, back at the house.

“I know,” said Garmadon, without looking up.

“Did he seem… troubled… to you?” she asked carefully.

“Wu's always preoccupied with something,” he replied, a little dismissively. “And if he has nothing to worry about, he's obsessing about his favourite prophecy. It's nothing new.”

“Which prophecy?” asked Misako, trying to remember what he'd spoken of in their earlier years.

“The green ninja,” Garmadon said, with a sneer. “The chosen one, who'll defeat the Dark Lord and restore the balance? He's convinced he'll be the one to find them, and he's determined to seek them out.”

“And you don't agree?”

“I think he's wasting his time. If the prophecy is true, they'll show up by themselves when they’re needed,” said Garmadon. “Balance seems fine to me anyway,” he muttered under his breath.

Misako retreated to her study. She sat for a long time, looking out of the window at the garden, the fields, the trees, and the mossy cliffs rising high above the valley. Everything that's life is green, she thought.

She turned back to the desk and began to roll up the scrolls she had been working on. She slotted them into their proper places, then put on a pair of white gloves, and turned to the top right corner of the rack, where the oldest documents were kept. Carefully, she slid out a scroll so yellowed with age that the edges were almost brown. She placed it gently into the reader, open at the start, so that the first words could be seen:

She settled down to read.

Wu travelled light, and had little to unpack on his arrival back at the monastery. He sat on the carpet in his room, took the photograph out of his hat, and placed it reverently in front of him. He regarded the figures for a long while: himself; the woman he loved; and, standing between them, his brother, pale faced, red eyed, and doomed. Wu inhaled a deep, slow breath and sighed it out; then he settled down to meditate.

Time passed. She did not keep track of the dates. Rody got married and now his children played on the common in front of the hall. She made visits to Domu and other historical sites, and finally logged the ten thousand hours she needed to achieve full membership of the Explorers’ Club. (Not that she really wanted to be in their stuffy boys’ club. But she did want to show them she could do it. And besides, it was handy if she needed an emergency place to stay in the city.)

Wu did not visit again. She asked Garmadon once whether he knew what his brother was doing.

“Fussing over his chosen ones, I expect,” Garmadon had replied. She did not ask again.

Garmadon took his own trips, she hardly knew where. They did not travel together much any more, though they always reunited happily on their return. Their lives continued in this way, until one day she stood from her chair and the world lurched and tilted, and she would have fallen if he hadn't caught her.

“Are you sick? Do you need a doctor?” Garmadon asked, full of concern.

“I'm sure it's fine,” she replied. “I think I just stood up too quickly, that's all. I feel okay now—ohhh…”

A wave of nausea washed over her.

“I think… maybe I'll just…”

In the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was puffy; in fact, now that she thought about it, she felt bloated all over. And her breasts ached. She started trying to count back the days. How long had it been? Four weeks? Five?

Ohhh…

She got an early night and slept late the next morning, and walked out to see the village medic while Garmadon was training. The medic congratulated her and offered advice, some for now, some for later. She looked for him when she returned to the hall, but he was working on something complicated involving nunchucks and she didn't like to disturb him, and so it was much later before she got to speak to him.

“How do you feel today?” he asked.

“A little better,” she replied. “I saw Nessa. The medic in the village,” she added, in case he didn't recognize the name; he had no need of medics, of course.

“Oh yes? And what did she say?”

“She said I'm pregnant.”

He stared at her.

“Pregnant?” he said incredulously.

She nodded. That had been her reaction too; she'd long assumed it wasn't possible, and had given up thinking about it with only a twinge of regret. And yet here we are, she thought. I should have had more faith.

“You're going to have a baby?” asked Garmadon, his face still creased in an effort to understand.

“Yes,” she replied.

“When?”

“Not sure,” she said, suppressing a grimace at her own lax record-keeping. “Nessa thought I might be about six weeks now. Maybe eight.” I really am going to have to get a calendar. She paused, and watched him carefully. “Are you happy?”

It took a moment for him to react, and when he did, it seemed he was looking back at her from the depths of his thoughts. Then he smiled.

“Of course,” he said. “Of course I am. This is—this is wonderful news.” He held her, and she leaned her head against him. As he released her and moved away, she saw that the faraway look had returned to his face.

It's a lot to take in, after all this time, she reassured herself. It'll be fine. We have a few things to sort out, and then in a few months there'll be three of us. It'll be another adventure together. Perhaps the greatest of our lives. It’s going to be wonderful.

On the doctor's advice, they relocated temporarily to an apartment in the city when it got nearer the time; she was old enough for a first-time mother that the medics were keen for her to give birth in the hospital, rather than in their rural hall. It had taken longer than she'd expected, but although there were some anxious murmurs around her bed as time wore on, she was strong and healthy, and so, it turned out, was the baby: a boy, a little underweight, completely bald, but perfectly formed, as the nurses were quick to pronounce. He'd had his first feed and been wrapped and laid in the crib beside her, and now there was just the poking and prodding and goodness knows what else they were doing to her and she wished they would all just go away and leave them in peace.

The nurses had just left when there was another knock at the door. Misako sighed wearily as a middle-aged woman in office clothes entered, carrying a thick, bound book.

“Are you ready to register the baby?” she asked, with a beaming smile at the new parents. She opened the book on the counter at the side of the room.

They'd agreed the name earlier.

“Lloyd,” said Garmadon, without taking his eyes off the tiny boy. “Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon.”

“Is that with two Ls?” asked the registrar. Garmadon didn't respond.

“Yes,” murmured Misako. She was watching Garmadon watching the child, as if he couldn't quite believe he was real.

“I'll write out the birth certificate and you'll have it in the morning,” the registrar said, as she closed the book. “Congratulations!”

Then we can go home, thought Misako. Really home, not just back to the apartment. Just our little family, and peace at last.

The first few months were not at all peaceful. Baby Lloyd did not sleep well, and Misako and Garmadon both stumbled around the place in a daze. She tried to follow the well-meaning advice she'd been given, to sleep when the baby sleeps, but quickly gave it up as she realized that napping in the daylight hours was only making her feel worse. Rody's wife, Eran, had taken over as agent for the hall, and now she came over regularly to check up on them (or so Misako interpreted the younger but more experienced mother's frequent visits). Eran promised her this would pass; but Misako, in her sleep-deprived stupor, was in no mood for reassurances.

Garmadon had always slept less than her, but even he seemed to grow pale from the disturbed nights; on top of which, with his usual routine disrupted, he was alternately irritable and distracted. She would come across him standing, staring at nothing, and rubbing his hand absent-mindedly, something she'd seen him do occasionally before, but never as often. An old wound that bothered him, he'd told her years ago; and it seemed to bother him more than ever now.

Eventually Lloyd settled down a little, and they would sometimes get a few hours’ sleep in a row. It was during this period that Misako opened her eyes in the night and saw Garmadon standing over the crib, staring down at the sleeping baby; the low nightlight threw the most fantastic shadows over his face, and gave him the look of something monstrous. She lay frozen with fear, until she must have fallen asleep again; when she woke in the morning, he was his usual self, and there was no sign of the creature she'd seen in the night, and she convinced herself she had dreamed it all.

Now that Lloyd was sleeping through the night, Garmadon had set out on a trip he'd said couldn't be put off any longer, and Misako was feeling his absence. She had just sat down to rest after getting the baby down for a nap, when there was a loud knock at the door. She felt a wave of irritation; although Eran would come over later to help out, there still seemed to be so much to do, and she’d been looking forward to at least a few minutes’ respite before turning to her next task. She sighed. Perhaps if she ignored them, they would go away?

The knocking came again, more insistent. She realized the noise might wake Lloyd, and springing up, she flung the front door wide, ready to give someone a piece of her mind.

There on the top step stood Wu. He was bent, as if his pack was too heavy, and in his face was a deep weariness that she could almost have mistaken for the signs of age.

“Misako,” he said. “May I come in?”

He followed her back to the lounge.

“Garmadon's not here,” she began.

“I know,” said Wu. “That is why I have come.”

He paused, and the silence grew and began to be uncomfortable, before suddenly Wu spoke again.

“Garmadon—came to me in the monastery,” he said. His words were halting, spoken with difficulty. “He came—for the weapons. The golden weapons.” He paused again, and looked at her to make sure she understood.

“Your father's weapons,” Misako said, a sick feeling rising in her. Wu nodded.

“My father said the weapons were too powerful to be used by one person alone. Garmadon has always seen that as a challenge, rather than the warning it was intended to be.”

“But what does he want with them?”

“He wishes to remake the world,” said Wu simply. “But doing so would destroy the balance, and the evil of the snake's poison in him would destroy every last thing that we love.” He looked sadly at her; she was too shocked to say anything. He sighed, and continued.

“I told him I would not let them leave the monastery. He told me he would destroy it if he had to. We fought. He left me no choice.” Wu looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

“Wu,” said Misako, in a tight voice. “You must tell me. What has happened? Where is Garmadon?” Wu did not look up.

“Tell me!” she repeated. “Wu! What have you done?”

Finally he lifted his head.

“I have done what I had hoped I would never have to do, yet always feared might fall to me to fulfill,” he said. “To protect the weapons—to protect Ninjago—I—I banished him.”

“Banished him?” She did not understand. “Banished him where?”

“To the underworld,” Wu replied. “I'm sorry, Misako. He's gone.”

She stared at him.

“No,” she said. “No!” She jumped up from her chair. “You're lying. It can't be true!”

“I wish it were not,” Wu said, standing to face her.

“But why? Why would he do that?”

“The evil in him has been growing for years—”

“Don't speak to me of evil!” she rounded on him angrily. “We were happy! We're a family! He has a son! Why would he risk all that?” She could not, would not accept such an irrational claim about the man she thought she’d known for so long.

“Misako. I'm sorry,” said Wu again. “I hoped I would never need to say these words to you, but—he—Garmadon—he is the Dark Lord of the prophecy.”

“Get out.” Her voice was cold and flat. “Just go. I never want to see you again.”

Wu became very still. “If I may be of any service to you and my nephew—”

“Go!” she snapped at him. He bowed formally, turned, and left the room without another word. In a few moments she heard the front door open and close; and then he was gone too.

The exchange had taken only minutes, and in that time her world had collapsed, changed forever with a few words. She fell back into the chair and stared unseeing until a whimpering from the bedroom told her Lloyd was awake. When Eran arrived late in the afternoon, she found Misako seated in the chair, with the baby in her lap. She would not pass him over to the younger woman, and could not tell her what was wrong; she only shook her head at Eran's questions and cuddled Lloyd closer to her. Eran put together a light supper, which Misako ate none of, and she was hesitant to leave her alone in her current mood; but Misako roused herself enough to thank her and reassure her that she would be quite all right, and that Eran should go home to her own family.

When she was gone, Misako put Lloyd to bed, singing him to sleep as she always did. When his eyes were closed and his breathing steady, she walked through the house, wandering in and out of the empty rooms as if in a dream. She found herself in the dojo, and she turned around and around, hardly registering the motionless dummy, the neat pile of mats, the practice weapons on their racks—

Her eye fell on the nunchucks. Out of nowhere a memory arose: the day she'd found out she was pregnant, she'd come down here and found him so engrossed in his practice that he hadn't noticed her. Over and over again, a one-handed catch and swing with the nunchucks, while his eyes remained firmly focused on the tip of the staff he held in the other hand, outstretched as if he were brandishing a sword…

Misako fell to her knees. It was true. He had known it. He had planned for it. He had practised it. She wept tears of rage, of despair, and finally of exhaustion, lying now heedlessly on the dojo floor, oblivious to the growing chill of the night.

She had no idea how much time had passed. She might have slept; or maybe not. She picked herself up, rubbed her wet eyes roughly with the back of her wrist, and climbed the stairs. Back in the bedroom, she watched little Lloyd sleeping, envying him his blissful ignorance of her grief. Just then, the surround of the shutters brightened as the moon slid out from behind a cloud. A narrow beam of light shone in through some pinhole in the screen and landed a gleaming circle on the child's head, illuminating the pale hair that was beginning to show. And in the same moment, through the fog of her exhaustion, Misako was pierced by the spotlight of newfound knowledge: of who he was; of what he would become; of what it meant he would have to do.

She clasped her fists to the sides of her head.

“No,” she moaned softly. “No, no.”

She wanted to scream out loud, No! You can't have him! Leave us in peace! She screamed it inside her head instead, eyes squeezed tightly shut, willing it out into the universe. But she knew destiny didn't work like that. It would take a monumental effort to hold it back, and no one but she could do it.

Misako was not a woman made for despair, once she knew what she had to do. She went back to the kitchen, ate a little of the leftovers, drank some water, and went to bed without further delay. She would need all her strength if she was going to find a solution to the prophecy of the green ninja that did not involve him having to destroy his own father.

My dearest Lloyd,
I am writing this letter on your first day at Darkley's School, and the day I set out on my latest expedition. I hope in time you will forgive me for leaving you. It is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But all I have done, I have done for you and for your father, to save you from the prophecy that will try to consume you both.
If you are reading this, perhaps years in the future, it may be that I did not return. I will not have failed, though, if I have kept you safe. As a last resort, if the darkness has come, seek out your uncle Wu and ask him to help you, for my sake. He will know what must be done.
I leave this letter in the care of the archives of the Explorers’ Club, along with several scrolls that are your inheritance. I hope that one day I will return; if not, know that I have thought of you every day since today, and that my memories of you sustain me in the darkest nights. We will meet again, in this realm or the next.
I love you always,
Mom
[signed] Misako Montgomery Garmadon