Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Connor stormed up to his room, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the house, but it didn't drown out his mother's voice as she yelled up after him.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again!" she snapped, her frustration sharp and unwavering. "You think you can just come and go as you please?!"

He could hear her pacing at the bottom of the stairs, muttering under her breath. "You never tell me where you are, you never listen, and I'm sick of it, Connor!"

He clenched his fists, staring at the floor. She didn't get it. She never would.

Connor needed something. anything. anything to take his mind off everything- his pyjama's they just laid dormant in his wardrobe its been a week at best since he went on a late night run with them. As 'him'. He needed more- He needed to shed the weight pressing down on his chest, the one that made his own skin feel too tight, too small. He needed to be someone else. Someone stronger. Someone who didn't have to deal with slammed doors, yelling voices, and the feeling that no matter what he did, he was always wrong.

He ran a hand through his brown hair, his fingers shaking. He needed out. Far away. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one could reach him.

Somewhere he could breathe.

Even if it was just for a second. Or two. 

*

On a frigid night high atop Mystic Mountain, Night Ninja vigilantly watched over his Ninjalinos as they trained, preparing each one to be strong and ready for whatever could lay ahead. Slightly bored out of his mind, its not like he hated training his Ninjalinos but the routine had been the same for years now, something new would have been nice.   

suddenly, he heard crying from a near by tree outside. 

'what could that be?...' 

was the only question running through his mind, He wanted to check it out, but he hesitated-training his Ninjalinos was important, and he didn't want to disturb that process, but then again Still, the sudden noise had his full attention. He tried to convince himself it was just the wind it couldn't be anything else but it was to distinct too...familiar to not draw attention. He dismissed his Ninjalinos, he didn't want them to suddenly comment about the noise it could still well be nothing.  Shooing, them out of the room before he went towards the open window. Just to peek at what or who was crying defiantly at this time in the the night.

"CATBOY?!"

Night Ninja's voice rang out before he could stop himself, the name escaping in a mix of shock and disbelief. He hadn't expected to see his rival like this- curled up in the crook of a sturdy tree branch, just outside the temple window. The dim moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting soft shadows over the boy's form.

Catboy flinched at the sudden outburst, his ears twitched in his direction. His wide eyes darted toward Night Ninja, panic flashing across his face. In an instant, he wiped at his cheeks, as if erasing any evidence of whatever had left him looking so vulnerable. It was humiliating enough to be caught in such a state, curled up like a resting housecat, but to be discovered by him, one of the very villains he fought night after night? That was even worse.

Night Ninja, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. He wasn't used to seeing his rival like this. Something about it unsettled him.

"I-I uh... I came here purposely... to stop you!"

Catboy shot up so fast he nearly lost his balance. He forced his shoulders back, trying to look confident. Anything, to hide the fact that just minutes ago, he'd been crying.

His throat felt tight, the rasp still lingering in his voice. He quickly wiped at his eyes, hoping Night Ninja hadn't noticed. But the villain was already watching too closely, sharp eyes scanning him like he could see right through the act.

Catboy swallowed hard, forcing a smirk. 

He just had to sell the act. 

Night Ninja blinked, snapping out of his brief daze before a smirk curled under his mask.

"Really? You came to stop me? From doing what, kitty cat?~"

His voice was smooth, almost lazy, the teasing lilt rolling off his tongue effortlessly. He let out a low chuckle, leaning against the temple's open window, if it could even be called that. It was more like a gaping hole in the wall, offering little barrier between them.

But something about this felt... strange.

Sure, he wanted to see his enemies weak, humiliated, in distress at least, in theory. That's what a villain was supposed to want, right? And yet, watching Catboy like this, his eyes still slightly red, his confidence clearly forced... it made something churn uncomfortably in Night Ninja's stomach.

He was suddenly glad for his mask, hiding the uncertain, almost uneasy smile tugging at his lips. Maybe it was some strange form of empathy, something he hadn't realized had been growing over the years of fighting Catboy. They'd practically grown up together, after all. While other kids had school, friends, normal lives, this was all Night Ninja knew: training, orders, Yasha's impossible expectations.

Come to think of it... Catboy and his team were the only kids his age he ever interacted with.

Maybe that's why this felt different. Ether way, he couldn't just stop poking fun at the hero just a little bit more.

"Are you stuck up that big, tall tree?~ Oh, poor kitty~"

Night Ninja's voice took on a mocking coo, mimicking the way people talked to their pets. His smirk widened as he leaned casually against the window, clearly enjoying himself.

Catboy's ears burned, and he scowled, his tail flicked and lashed out in irritation. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go. He had come here to be alone, to escape. Not to be the punchline of his enemy's jokes.

"I just said I'm here to take you down-"

His voice came out sharper than he intended, so he quickly covered it with an eye roll. Crossing his arms, he turned his shoulder away from Night Ninja, feigning indifference. It was easier to act unfazed than to admit how much this moment was unravelling him.

But Night Ninja wasn't stupid. And Catboy knew that.

Night Ninja chuckled, tilting his head with that same hidden smirk beneath his mask. His tone was dripping with amusement, but there was something else there too just the faintest flicker of curiosity.

"Aw, did I ruffle your fur, kitty cat? You gonna swipe at me next?"

Catboy huffed, his fingers twitching, claws itching to unsheathe.

"Tch. Keep talking, and you'll find out." Annoyance prickled under his skin, heat rising to his face. He needed to get out of here. Away from him, away from the humiliation of being caught like this. With a sharp scoff, he turned on his heel.

"Whatever. I'm leaving." He leaped. Only for his foot to miss the edge of the branch. His body lurched, and he scrambled for balance before landing awkwardly, nearly slipping right off.

Night Ninja let out an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to his chest as if he were truly concerned. "Oh nooo~, poor kitty's lost his balance! Should I call the fire department?"

Catboy pushed himself back up, propping onto the branch as he burned with embarrassment. This was not how this night was supposed to go. He had come here to clear his head, not to be laughed at by his enemy. His tail would have puffed out in frustration if he didn't hold it in. Instead, all he could do was hiss under his breath. "Shut up!"

Annoyed, the hero huffed and crouched, preparing to leap from the tree onto a nearby branch. It wasn't far, and it looked sturdy enough to hold his weight. Well- it looked sturdy enough.

CHK-K-KRACK!!

The branch snapped beneath him the second his feet touched down.

"Great."

For a split second, his stomach dropped along with him, the world tilting as he braced for impact- until, suddenly, strong arms caught him mid-fall. Catboy barely had time to register what was happening before he was yanked close, his body shielded against someone else's. His heart pounded in his chest, breath caught in his throat.

Too fast. Too close.

When he finally looked up, his wide eyes met a very familiar sight. Navy blue shozoku armor, the unmistakable presence of the one person who should not be catching him like this.

Night Ninja.

Night Ninja stared down at Catboy, his grip unconsciously tightening for a second.

Why did he do that so fast?

He could've just let the idiot fall. He should've. Instead, his body had moved before his brain even caught up. And now Catboy was just there, staring up at him with those wide, startled eyes, his face way too close, his warmth way too noticeable.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Night Ninja could feel Catboy's breath, still uneven from the fall, could see the way his muscles tensed like he was bracing for something... Almost like he hated being caught, like needing help was worse than the fall itself.

That realization made something twist in Night Ninja's stomach, and he hated it.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he shifted his grip before shoving Catboy away, not rough enough to hurt, just enough to get some space between them.

"You're actually hopeless, you know that?"

Catboy landed on his feet with an awkward stumble, immediately straightening like nothing had happened. He quickly dusted himself off, rolling his shoulders and setting his jaw like the whole thing was barely worth acknowledging.

"I didn't need your help."

Night Ninja crossed his arms, one brow raising.

"Oh, yeah? Because it really looked like you needed it."

Catboy scowled, tilting his chin up in defiance. "I was gonna land fine. I mean, cats always land on their feet."

Night Ninja gave him a long, unimpressed look. "You were flailing like a panicked house cat. Pretty sure you meowed on the way down."

Catboy's tail puffed up in offense but he soon flicked behind it back to normal tying to hold in his frustration. He just scoffed, turning away sharply.

"Did not."

"Mmm, you totally did."

"Whatever."

Night Ninja smirked, but behind it, he was still watching. Still noticing. Because as much as he enjoyed pushing Catboy's buttons, the way the hero reacted to even needing help... it said a lot more than his words ever did. "But what's actually wrong, kitty? You've been acting weirder than usual." Night Ninja rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and looking away like he didn't actually care. But the fact that he even asked meant something, whether he'd admit it or not.

Catboy stiffened. His ears twitched at the question, but he quickly forced himself to scoff, shaking his head. "Tch. Like you care." He turned away, pretending to focus on something. anything else. His tail flicked in irritation, betraying his unease. "I'm fine."

Too fast. Too sharp. The kind of answer that was meant to shut the conversation down before it could start. But when he risked a glance at Night Ninja, the way he was still standing there, still watching him. it made Catboy's stomach twist.

He swallowed, shifting on his feet, then added, quieter: "Even if something was wrong... it's not your problem."

But the words felt weak, even to him. he couldn't stop the next question leave his lips. "Just... do you think I'm dumb?"

Night Ninja turned to him, blinking in confusion. "Well, of course I do- you're nothing but a PJ pest-"

He stopped.

Catboy's ears had flattened against his head, his tail curling slightly between his legs. He wasn't snapping back, wasn't rolling his eyes or scoffing like he usually did. Even if he was trying to hide it, the way his shoulders tensed, the flicker of something wounded in his eyes. it was obvious. That answer actually hurt him.

Something about that pulled at Night Ninja in a way he really didn't like. He bit his tongue, glancing away before muttering, "I suppose... if I had to pick who's dumber, I'd say that birdbrain's worse."

Catboy's head snapped up, confused 'Amaya...?' his brain thought confused and taken back a bit.

She was the smartest in their class. No—probably the whole year. Straight A's, always ahead, always knowing the answers before anyone else. But then again... Night Ninja didn't know that. He didn't see them at school, didn't see her outside their fights.

Catboy's tail flicked. He almost wanted to argue, to defend her, but... there was something weirdly reassuring about the fact that Night Ninja wasn't doubling down on his stupidity. Like, in some strange, twisted way, he was trying to make it less of a blow.

Catboy swallowed. He shouldn't be talking about this. Not with him. And yet, for some reason, he didn't. no. couldn't stop. Catboy blinked, processing Night Ninja's words before something clicked. His ears perked slightly, and his expression softened just a fraction. "...You don't know anything about us outside of this, do you?"

The question wasn't mocking. just... surprised. His tail twitched as he looked Night Ninja over, the realization settling in.

"You've never even seen us in the daytime. Never sat through class with us, never walked home with friends, never had to study for some dumb test." Catboy rubbed the back of his neck before he tilted his head. "What do you even do all day?"

Night Ninja stiffened slightly, caught off guard. He had never really thought about it before. School wasn't part of his life he'd never even set foot in a classroom. Yasha never let him go into town during the day, and he never asked. It wasn't like he wanted to, anyway.

From the way the PJ Masks talked about school, it sounded like a chore. Romeo constantly ranted about how it was for the weak-minded and beneath true geniuses. If even he hated it, it had to be awful. Besides, Night Ninja had his own routine—his own training, his own path. School would only slow him down.

He scoffed, recovering quickly. "I train, obviously. How else would I be this good?"

Night Ninja's smirk returned as he launched into a quick flip- then another- landing smoothly in front of Catboy, arms crossed, looking pleased with himself. "While you're stuck at a desk scribbling in some notebook, I'm mastering techniques you couldn't dream of."

Catboy snorted, crossing his arms. "Oh yeah? And all that 'training' still isn't enough to beat me?" His tail flicked smugly as he grinned. "Maybe school wouldn't be such a bad idea. You could use a lesson or two."

Night Ninja scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Please. The only lesson I need is the one where I finally wipe that smug look off your face."

Catboy's grin widened. "Keep dreaming, Ninja-boy." catboy got a quit thought that popped in his head, a small chuckle escaped his lips.

"what are you laughing about now?" night ninja said as he cleaned up his shozoku armor wanting to look presentable. catboy tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Y'know, I can't even picture you in a classroom."

Night Ninja snorted. "Good. Because I'd never be caught dead in one."

Catboy smirked. "I dunno... I think you'd be the kid in the back, feet up on the desk, pretending not to care but secretly trying to get the highest grade."

Night Ninja scoffed, crossing his arms. "Please. The only test I care about is how many flips I can do before you blink."

Without missing a beat, he did a backflip right in place, landing with effortless precision. Catboy chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, show-off. Just saying, I think you'd be way more of a nerd than you'd admit."

Night Ninja huffed but didn't argue. Instead, he just smirked, brushing off the moment like it didn't matter. He wasn't about to sit in some weird, sappy conversation. So, he flipped the subject. "You're talking big for someone who almost tumbled out of a tree."

Catboy scoffed, flicking his tail behind him. "That was a fluke."

Night Ninja's smirk widened. "Oh yeah? Prove it."

He straightened up, motioning toward the temple roof.

"Race me. First one there wins."

Catboy raised a brow, arms crossing. 

"And if I win?"

"You won't."

Night Ninja's tone was smooth, dripping with confidence as he crouched slightly, shifting into a ready stance. The way he looked at Catboy, almost expectantly, sent an unspoken challenge through the air.

"Care to join me, kitty? Or are you scared to lose?~"

Catboy rolled his eyes, but something about this felt different. Usually, their battles were just that...battles. Fights, clashes, victories, defeats.

This? This felt... fun.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk as he crouched beside Night Ninja, muscles tensed, excitement sparking in his chest. "You wish, Ninja-boy."

And just like that, for the first time, they weren't hero and villain. Just two boys, side by side, ready to have race for fun.

*

The second Catboy pushed off the ground, he was gone. A blur of blue streaking ahead, his super speed kicking in instantly. He leaped from branch to branch with effortless grace, barely needing to stop before launching himself again. The wind rushed past his ears, his heart pounding with exhilaration. This was his element.

But Night Ninja wasn't about to let him have the victory so easily. What he lacked in raw speed, he made up for in precision. He twisted through the air, flipping from branch to branch with calculated ease, every movement sharp and controlled. His feet barely kissed the wood before he sprang again, using every surface to propel himself upward, keeping Catboy in his sights.

Catboy's ears twitched as he caught sight of Night Ninja still matching his pace. His tail flicked. 'Seriously?! How was he keeping up? Fine. He'd just have to go faster.'

With one final push, Catboy launched himself into the air, soaring toward the temple roof. The moment stretched, he could see himself landing first- until, out of nowhere, a navy blur shot up beside him.

Night Ninja had used the temple wall to vault himself forward, flipping through the air at the last second to meet him at the landing.

For a split second, they were neck and neck—both reaching out—both hitting the rooftop at the same time with a solid thud.

Silence.

Then—

"Ha! I win!" 

Night Ninja declared, grinning.

"What? No way! I totally touched the roof first!" Catboy shot back, tail flicking in protest.

"Please, kitty, I felt your fur brush against me on the way up. If anything, that means I got here first."

Catboy scoffed. "That's not how it works!"

Night Ninja only smirked, sitting back on his hands as he glanced at the horizon, the air between them was different now—lighter, somehow.

"Guess that means it's a tie." Catboy huffed, crossing his arms. 

"Fine. But next time, I'll win for real." Night Ninja chuckled, tilting his head at him. 

"Oh? So you're already thinking about a rematch?"

Catboy blinked, caught off guard by the realization... but he didn't deny it.

Instead, he just smirked. 

"We'll see, Ninja-boy."

For a moment, they just sat there, shoulders rising and falling with steady breaths, the sounds of the late night settling around them. The distant hum of the city, the rustling of the trees, the faint chirping of birds beginning to wake. It wasn't often that they weren't fighting, weren't trading insults and attacks.

This was different.

It almost felt... normal.

Night Ninja flicked a small pebble at Catboy's arm, breaking the silence. "Better start training instead of doing school, stripes. You'll need it."

Catboy rolled his eyes but grinned. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be the last time they raced.

Night Ninja exhaled, shifting his gaze toward the horizon. The sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn wasn't far off now. His time was up. Again.

"You should get going," he muttered, voice quieter than before. "Would hate for you to miss out on that school thing of yours."

Catboy stretched, standing up and dusting himself off. "you know that was kind of fun...don't you think?"

Night Ninja didn't answer. Instead, he just leaned back on his hands, staring out at the darkened sky, that unreadable smirk lingering on his face.

Catboy hesitated for a moment before finally turning to leave, his tail flicking behind him. "Same time next time?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Night Ninja's smirk twitched, just barely. "We'll see, kitty."

And as Catboy leaped down into the now early morning, disappearing into the bamboo forest below, Night Ninja stayed where he was, staring at the empty spot beside him.

Maybe... just maybe... this wouldn't be the last time. 

*

Night Ninja leaped off the roof, swinging himself through one of the temple's windows with practiced ease. The air inside was cold, desolate, and silent. He tiptoed forward, testing just how quiet he could be, practicing was always good if he wanted to be the strongest ninja the human race had ever seen.

As he moved through the halls, he passed walls adorned with riches, ancient scrolls, and murals depicting various prophecies. His gaze flickered over them until he stopped at one in particular...the one that had captivated him since childhood.

It showed him. Night Ninja. Standing victorious, the spirit animals reclaimed from those 'pesky PJ Masks.'

He had spent years looking up at this mural, pride swelling in his chest at the thought of fulfilling his destiny. He was raised to believe in this prophecy, to serve Yasha, and, with his help, become the most powerful ninja the world had ever seen.

But now...

"I can't do that..." The words escaped him in a whisper, barely audible in the vast, empty hall.

Doubt coiled in his chest, an unfamiliar weight pressing against everything he had once been so sure of. He had always believed in this path, but things had changed. He had changed.

Because now, he wasn't just facing enemies. He had started to understand? have some mushy feelings for one of them? even Night ninja didn't understand himself. all he knew is that maybe, just maybe... he didn't want to take everything away from him anymore.

* 

Catboy leaped through his bedroom window, landing with a thud on the cluttered floor. The sun was already creeping over the horizon, casting faint golden streaks across his walls. His bedside clock glowed mockingly-5 a.m. He groaned.

With sluggish movements, he pulled off his mask and suit, shoving his pajamas back into their usual hiding spot. Another night behind him. Another day waiting. But this time, everything felt... different.

He collapsed onto his unmade bed, kicking aside crumpled clothes, comic books, and an empty snack wrapper. His pillow was lumpy from a half-finished school project shoved underneath, but he didn't care. He buried his face into it, hoping praying that some amount of sleep, even a little bit, would erase the heat still burning on his cheeks.

The night had gone nothing like he'd planned.

He just needed to clear his head, to escape for a bit to breathe. But instead of finding solitude, he'd found Night Ninja.

And worse? Night Ninja had found him.

Connor cringed at the memory, gripping his pillow tighter. He hadn't meant to break down, hadn't meant for him to see the tears. But Night Ninja didn't mock him, didn't throw an attack his way. No, he spoke to him. Then like some ridiculous nightmare-turned-fever-dream he caught him from falling out that tree.

Connor could still feel the ghost of Night Ninja's hands gripping his wrists, saving him from tumbling out of that stupid tree. He still heard the teasing lilt in his voice, the challenge in his smirk as they raced to the top of the temple.

Even if the race was a tie, Connor felt like he'd lost.

Not the race, but his grip on whatever fragile line had kept him from thinking about Night Ninja like that.

His face burned as he let out a muffled groan into his pillow. "This is bad. Really, really bad."

he mumbled into it. "what if the others find out?! what if Night ninja tells the other villains how pathetic I am...crying in a tree like that- god what came over me... what dose he think about me now-"

Connor just closed his eyes wishing this was all a dream. hoping that he could forget this ever happened.

And like that he drifted asleep for the 30 mins he had to even go sleep.

Chapter Text

BEEP...BEEP...BEE—

Connor slammed his hand down on his nightstand, trying to silence his blaring alarm—only to knock a comic book onto the floor instead. Groggy and disoriented, it took him a second to realize the clock was still going off. By the time he finally managed to turn it off, he caught sight of the time.

7:30 A.M.

He was late.

Panic jolted him awake as he scrambled out of bed, immediately tripping over the mess on his floor. A half-shoved hoodie, tangled charging cables including one for his phone and another for his game controller, somehow knotted together became obstacles in his frantic rush. But there was no time to deal with that now.

Grabbing the first clothes within reach, he yanked on a wrinkled white shirt, a pair of blue cargo pants (the pockets already stuffed with random junk), and, of course, his blue letterman jacket. Only when he opened his bedroom door did he realize his shirt was backward. Muttering under his breath, he fixed it, grabbed his phone, shoved a pile of unfinished homework into his bag, and bolted out of the room.

He darted into the bathroom, hastily brushing his teeth and making a half-hearted attempt to fix his hair not that it helped much. Then, making a beeline for the stairs, he nearly stumbled in his rush to get to the kitchen.

His mom was already dressed for work, rushing around just as much as he was. When she heard him coming, she spared him a quick glance, offering a small, tired smile.

"I'm sorry for yelling yesterday- listen, we just have to make things work now. And, Connor, you can't just-"

"I know."

The words came out sharper than he meant. He looked away quickly, searching the fruit bowl on the table for something decent, a peach, maybe, if he was lucky.

His mom just gave him that look. The one that saw straight through him.

"You look awful," she said, sighing before handing him a piece of toast. That was meant for herself, but now his.

"Thanks, Mom. You've got great eyes..." he mumbled, taking the toast and avoiding her gaze. He tore off a bite, chewing more out of habit than hunger. His stomach felt weird—tight, unsettled. Maybe it was from barely getting any sleep. Or maybe it was from everything else.

His mom didn't drop it.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, watching him in that way only moms could. "You've been acting weird lately."

Connor stiffened. "I'm fine," he said, a little too quickly.

She sighed, her fingers lingering on the strap of her purse like she was debating whether to push the issue. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, keeping his eyes locked on the toast in his hands.

Silence stretched between them. She didn't believe him, not for a second. But after another moment, she let it go. With that same tired, knowing look she always gave him when she knew he wasn't telling her everything.

"Alright," she finally said, grabbing her keys. "Just... don't forget your lunch this time. And try not to fall asleep in class." she knew he didn't have enough sleep, it was written all over his face. 

Connor gave a half-hearted thumbs-up as she walked toward the door.

"Love you, kid," she called over her shoulder.

"...Love you too," he said, but it came out softer, like he wasn't sure if she heard him before she shut the door behind her.

And just like that, he was alone again. Alone, but still late for school.

The second the door clicked shut behind his mom, Connor snapped into action. He shoved the rest of his toast into his mouth, grabbed his bag off the chair 'why is it so heavy?' he thought as he bolted out the door.

The cold morning air hit him like a slap, waking him up just enough to realize he forgot something.

Shoes.

"Seriously?" he groaned, spinning on his heel and rushing back inside. He hopped on one foot as he yanked his sneakers on, nearly face-planting into the wall before finally getting them laced.

Now he was ready.

He took off down the sidewalk, sprinting like his life depended on it. His backpack bounced against his shoulders, the straps digging into him as he weaved through people on the sidewalk. An old man walking his dog gave him a judgy look as he nearly tripped over the leash. And looked down at the yappy dog as if it was his fault.

"Sorry!" Connor called over his shoulder, barely slowing down. "Ugh- dogs..."

By the time he reached the crosswalk near school, he was out of breath, his hair wind-blown and his jacket slipping off one shoulder. The crossing signal flashed red.

"No, no, come on," he muttered, jogging in place as he watched the cars roll past like they were taunting him. He glanced at the time on his phone. 7:55. 

Five minutes.

The second the light changed, he took off again, barely making it through the front doors before the warning bell rang. Breathing hard, he skidded to a stop by his locker, yanking it open so fast he nearly ripped the handle off. His homework? Crumpled. His textbooks? Somewhere in the mess. His hair? Disaster.

But at least he made it.

Barely.

*

Connor barely had time to sit down at his desk before he heard footsteps approaching behind him.

"Uh, Connor, you alright?" Greg's voice was laced with concern. "You didn't walk with us like you normally do."

"Not to comment, but your hair is a disaster."

Connor jumped, turning to see Amaya and Greg standing behind him. Amaya's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her brows furrowed in frustration, while Greg, ever the peacemaker, look between them anxiously.

"So, where exactly were you all night?" Amaya's tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "While some of us were out saving the city from a certain night-time villain, you were—what? Napping?"

Connor's stomach dropped. He hadn't even known there was an attack last night. He'd been... busy.

"I—I didn't know!" He scrambled for an excuse. "I was just—uh—busy! I'm sorry!"

Amaya's eyes narrowed, her feathers clearly ruffled. "Busy?" she echoed, disbelief dripping from her voice. "So busy you couldn't even send a single message? Give us a heads-up?"

"Amaya!" Greg hissed, shooting nervous glances at the passing students in the hall. "Not the time or place!"

"Oh, really?" Amaya huffed, lowering her voice but not her anger. "Then when is the time, Greg? When he vanishes again and leaves us to deal with another ambush alone?"

"I didn't vanish!" Connor shot back, his voice rising before he caught himself and lowered it. "I—look, I didn't know, okay? I wasn't trying to ditch you guys!"

"Well, that's what it felt like!" Amaya snapped. "Greg and I barely managed to hold our ground against Romeo. We needed you, and you weren't there!"

Connor clenched his jaw. Guilt twisted in his chest, but he couldn't exactly tell them why he was absent.

Greg stepped between them, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "Guys, come on," he said in a hushed voice. "We shouldn't even be talking about this here. What if someone overhears?"

Amaya exhaled sharply, pushing her glasses up. Getting irritated. "Fine. But we're not done with this conversation, Connor."

She turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Connor slumped in his seat, his head in his hands. Greg sat down beside him, shaking his head. "Dude," he muttered. "You better have a really good excuse."

Connor swallowed hard. If only he did.

It wasn't like he could tell them the truth, that he had been running around with Night Ninja all night. 'Imagine how mad Amaya would be then!'

His stomach twisted at the thought. He risked a glance at Greg, trying to force a smile, but it felt weak, fake. Greg just raised an eyebrow, waiting, but Connor just turned looking away form Greg.

"What am I going to do?" Connor barely heard himself whisper it, too lost in his own spiralling thoughts.

He spent the next few minutes staring blankly at his notebook, pen in hand but unmoving. The words on the page blurred together as his mind kept circling back to Amaya's sharp words and Greg's slightly worried look. He needed a plan. Something big. Something that would make it up to them.

But what?

A grand apology? No, Amaya would see right through it. 'A favour? What could possibly be enough to make up for him missing a battle?' he head kept on listing off ideas only for him to see there flaws 'Maybe if I find out what Night Ninja is planning next, I could stop it before it even happens—'

"Mr. Connor?"

Connor snapped back to reality, blinking as the muffled classroom noise suddenly came into focus. His teacher was staring at him expectantly, arms crossed. The entire class had turned to look at him.

Oh no.

"Uh... what?" His voice cracked slightly.

A few students snickered. The teacher sighed.

"I asked you to summarize the key theme of the passage we just read," she said, tapping her fingers on her desk and taking her glasses of to give him a stern look. "Since you've clearly been deeply engaged in today's lesson."

Connor's face burned. He hadn't even heard the passage, let alone understood the theme. His heart pounded as he desperately scanned his notebook for clues, but all he had written down was a half-doodled cat paw in the corner of the page.

'Think Connor. Think!'

"Uh... teamwork?" he blurted out, grasping at the first thing that came to mind.

The teacher raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "The passage was about isolation and self-discovery."

Connor winced. "Oh. Right. That's... what I meant."

More laughter rippled through the room.

" I suggest you Pay attention, Mr. Connor," the teacher said before moving on, and Connor slumped lower in his seat, resisting the urge to groan. Could this day get any worse?

As soon as the lesson continued, Greg leaned over slightly, whispering, "Smooth."

Connor buried his face in his arms. Forget making it up to Amaya and Greg, he needed to survive today first. 

And he did by keeping his head down and thinking on what to do, and he might have accidently been ignoring Amaya and Greg throughout the whole day passing up on seeing them any chance he got just thinking 'no. not until I can speak to Amaya- not until I know what to do or say to make things better'

The final bell rang, and Connor was out the door before anyone could stop him. He needed to clear his head, to figure out how to fix things with Amaya and Greg before anything started to go down.

But, of course, Amaya wasn't about to let him off that easily. "Connor," she called, marching up beside him as he walked down the sidewalk. Greg trailed behind, looking hesitant. "We need to talk. Now."

Connor swallowed hard. "Look, I get that you're mad—"

"Oh, you get it?" Amaya's tone was sharp. "Because I don't think you do. We're supposed to trust each other, but you—"

A loud BOOM in the distance cut her off. The three of them stopped in their tracks as smoke rose above the rooftops.

"That cant be good," Greg muttered.

Greg put his fist out and Connor hesitantly joined in as he looked at Amaya "pj masks were on are way...come on Amaya were a team right?" Greg smiled at her softly

Amaya huffed and rolled her eyes unimpressed but joined in "into the night- to save the day-"

*

night in the city came quick and the pj masks were in action

They didn't need to say anything else. Without hesitation, activated their hero forms. In seconds, Connor was Catboy, and whatever tension they had before was pushed aside by instinct. They sprinted toward the commotion, leaping over rooftops until the scene came into view.

The street below was in chaos. A group of Ninjalinos had overturned trash cans, knocked over streetlights, and were currently just making a mess of the place. while Night ninja was just laying on a light blue pillow on his side as one of his Ninjalinos held a copy of a master fang book out for him to read, smirking like he had all the time in the world—

"Night Ninja," Owlette hissed. As she looked at Connor expecting him to take the lead be a leader say somthing first, he always said somthing first when it was Night Ninja he always took him on, on his own. But now he was just stood there all awkward tail between his legs...Amaya didn't like the look of it one bit

Connor's heart clenched. 'Not now. Not in front of them.'

"Well, well, well," Night Ninja drawled, looking up at them. "Look who finally decided to show up. Thought you'd leave me waiting all night again, Catboy?"

Connor stiffened. His teammates did too.

"'Again'?" Owlette repeated, slowly turning her head toward him.

He felt his stomach drop.

Night Ninja just grinned. "Oops. Did I say that out loud?" He chuckled as he finally got up and gestured somthing to his ninjalinos 

Catboy barely had time to react before Night Ninja lunged, his speed just as impressive as always. Their fight was a blur of motion—punches, dodges, flips—everything Connor should have been focused on.

But his mind was reeling.

Had Night Ninja said that on purpose? Was he messing with him? Or worse... did he know how much trouble this would cause?

"Catboy, what are you doing?!" Owlette's voice snapped him back to reality. As she herself tried to shake off Ninjalinos that kept jumping on to her and Greg was more then busy tiring to not get 'sticky splat' "Yeah and what's the deal with Night Ninja what do he want?"

Night ninja just ignored them as he stepped even closer In Catboy's hesitation, Night Ninja had gotten too close. His opponent's knee nudged into his stomach into his stomach not hard enough to hurt or leave a mark, but hard enough to knock him down if he wasnt paying attention. Oh, he wasn't paying attention. Catboy tumbled back, barely catching himself.

Night Ninja tilted his head. "Huh. You're slower today. Something distracting you?"

He was taunting him. And Catboy couldn't even say anything back. This wasn't a normal fight. It wasn't just about stopping a villain. This was about keeping a secret from the people he cared about the most.

He forced himself to focus, dodging a second kick just in time. "You wish," he shot back, but his voice lacked its usual confidence. He could feel Owlette's eyes on him. Watching. Analysing. bit not for long as she flew up even further the get out of the grasp of any sudden passengers then went to help Gekko out.

They had fought Night Ninja so many times. She knew Connors style, knew the way he moved. But now, he was off. He wasn't attacking the way he should be.

And she noticed.

Then came the moment that changed everything. Night Ninja lunged again, striking with another kick but this time, Catboy hesitated just a second too long. A small, almost imperceptible moment of reluctance. A flicker of hesitation before he blocked the attack—before he fought back by grabbing and pulling his leg down. Not like it affected Night Ninja he just cartwheeled his way up right practically showing off with ease.

And Owlette saw it.

She wasn't fighting. She wasn't watching the Ninjalinos.

She was watching him.

"Catboy," she called sharply " What wrong with you? Knock him down and help us out-" Owlette said annoyed as he tried to pull Gekko out of the situation he was in

He froze for half a second. That was all it took.

Night Ninja smirked as he looked between the two his face just a mere inch away. 'Oh, this is interesting'  "Yeah kitty~ fight me" He said while doing a handstand for fun. Not very Ninja like but then again he just wanted to tease more openings catboy could be taking just to wind up Owlette

Gekko was still busy wrestling a group of Ninjalinos and reaching for owletts hand, completely unaware of the tension between them. But Owlette...

Owlette knew.

Catboy tried to shake it off. "I am!" he lied. "I'm just...he's fast, okay?!"

But it wasn't a good enough excuse.

Because the way Owlette looked at him, sharp, calculating, betrayed told him everything he needed to know. She didn't just suspect something. She knew something was wrong.

And worst of all?

Night Ninja knew it too and he was loving the tension he caused.

"Hmm," the villain mused, leaping backward out of reach. "You're different today, Catboy." His gaze flickered to Owlette, then back to him. "Did I cause some trouble between you and your little friends?"

Catboy's jaw clenched. He didn't say anything. He couldn't. 

Night Ninja just grinned. "Fun." Then, with a sharp whistle, his Ninjalinos retreated into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as they came. "We only came out for some training. Thanks for the entertainment kitty"

The fight was over. But the real battle?

Had just begun.

As soon as Night Ninja was gone, Owlette rounded on him. "Connor." She used his real name. That was bad. That meant she was really mad.

He didn't move. Didn't speak. His throat felt tight.

Owlette's wings twitched in frustration. "What. Was. That?"

"I—"

"Don't lie to me." Her voice wavered, a mix of anger and something else- hurt. "You weren't fighting like you normally do. You hesitated. You never hesitate. if anything you jump too soon even without a proper plan."

Gekko finally caught up, looking between them, confused. "Wait, what's going on?"

Owlette ignored him. "Why did Night Ninja act like you knew what he was talking about"

Catboy was panicking now. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. "I don't-"

Connor felt stupid he didn't know what was up with him he couldn't do it and he felt pathetic for it- Night Ninja found no problem teasing and throwing punches Connor just felt to bad to even try.

Before he saw Night Ninja as a villain better hes faceless one so it let him not think to hard about who behind that mask or focus on unnecessary feelings...

"Connor." Her voice was dangerously quiet. "Tell me the truth."

The truth?

The truth was that he had spent last night with Night Ninja, running across rooftops, sharing something that wasn't quite friendship but wasn't rivalry either. The truth was that he hadn't meant to let his guard down, but he had. The truth was that, even now, part of him didn't want to fight Night Ninja. 

But if he told her that?

He would lose everything. right?

So he forced himself to lie.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Owlette's eyes darkened. And for the first time, she didn't believe him. 

*

[In the mystic mountains ]

The air in the temple was colder than usual.

Night Ninja barely stepped over the threshold before he felt it. A weight pressing down on his chest, like the very walls were watching him. The two great dragon statues that flanked the entrance loomed in the dim torchlight, their ancient eyes locked on him as if they knew.

As if they knew he had failed again.

He barely had time to shake the feeling before a deep voice echoed through the chamber.

"You return empty-handed. Again."

Night Ninja clenched his jaw. He turned toward the figure standing at the far end of the temple.

Yasha.

The elder stood before the great mural, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing up at the ancient prophecy carved into the stone. His robes were deep indigo, flowing like shadows around him, and his long silver hair was tied back, barely moving in the cold mountain air.

Night Ninja forced himself to stand tall. "I didn't fail," he said. "I—"

Yasha just raised his hand as if to tel Night Ninja to stop talking "You did not succeed." Yasha's voice was calm. Too calm. That was worse than anger. "And when one does not succeed, they have failed." He opened  one of his eyes to finally look at the boy infront of him. His eyes were a bright yellow colour with a slit like a cats eye

Night Ninja tightened his fists. He knew how this conversation would go. He knew what Yasha wanted to hear.

That he would try again. That he would fight harder. That he would take what belonged to him. do what it takes. what the prophecy said he should take.

But the words wouldn't come.

Yasha finally turned to look at him, his sharp, piercing gaze taking in every inch of him. Weighing him. Judging him.

"I had such hopes for you," Yasha murmured, stepping forward, his hands still calmly clasped. "The prophecy speaks of a ninja who will rise above all others. A ninja who will claim the powers of the Cat, the Owl, and the Gecko—and wield them as his own." His voice grew softer. "The ninja who will reshape destiny itself."

Night Ninja didn't look at him. Instead, his eyes flickered up to the mural behind Yasha.

He had grown up looking at that carving. It had been there for as long as he could remember...A depiction of a powerful ninja standing atop the world, the glowing spirits of the three stolen powers swirling around him.

He had spent years believing it. Believing that he was meant to take the PJ Masks' crystals. That he was destined to rip the power from their hands and use it to claim his place in history.

But now?

Now, the image was fading.

The once-bold carvings were softer, worn. The paint that once made the ninja's form stand out was dull, almost like it had been... forgotten.

Or... rejected.

Night Ninja swallowed. He didn't know much about magic, but he knew this much, prophecies weren't just art. If something was changing, if the carving was disappearing...

Maybe that meant something had changed in him.

Yasha took another step closer, his voice cool but firm. "Why do you hesitate?"

Night Ninja tensed. He didn't answer. "Hesitate?-"

"I have given you the training," Yasha continued. "The skills. The knowledge of the old ways. And yet, time after time, you let them slip through your fingers."

His gaze sharpened. "You let him slip through your fingers. I am tired of this cat and mouse chase"

Night Ninja's heart skipped as his head snapped up to look at Yasha wide eye in shock.

He forced himself to smirk. "What, Catboy? Please. He's nothing. Nothing but a helpless kitty cat"

Yasha studied him. And in that moment, Night Ninja had the awful, skin-crawling feeling that his mentor could see right through him.

Like he Could see the hesitation. Could see the way he had "fought" Catboy tonight even if he wasn't there, he could see the fact he had no intent to win, not with the drive to steal his power. there was nothing left.

But just to be there. Just to fight.

Because the truth was...

He didn't want Catboy's power. Didn't want his crystal. he wanted nothing to do with any of them and there sprit animals he didn't want to rip away the very thing that made them who they were.

It felt wrong. It was wrong. 

Yasha exhaled slowly, turning away from him. "Perhaps I was mistaken."

The words stung. They shouldn't have. But they did.

"You have grown weak," Yasha said, almost like he was speaking to himself. "Attachment dulls the blade, and you have allowed sentiment to rot away your ambition."

Night Ninja's fingers twitched. "I'm not weak."

"Then prove it."

Yasha finally looked at him again, and for the first time, Night Ninja saw something dangerous in his expression. Yasha reached out and slowly pulled up night ninjas mask so he could get a good look at his face. Yasha rested a hand on Night ninjas cheek almost fatherly like. 

His nails brushed his cheek almost claw like his pale white almost soft and smooth skin in contrast with his own more tan and rough feel 

"If you cannot take back whay was right fully mine, then I will do it myslef. I will destroy them."

The words landed like a blow.

Night Ninja went still. His breath caught in his throat.

Destroy them.

The words rang in his ears.

Destroy them.

He thought of Catboy's stupid, bright grin. The way he laughed when he should be fighting. The way he hesitated to hurt him just as much as he wanted to hesitated to hurt Catboy.

The way he looked at him like he wasn't a villain.

Like he was something else, well he hoped he didn't see him as a villain as some one cruel, someone like Romeo.

Destroy them.

His fingers curled into fists.

"I..." His voice cracked slightly, and he hated it. "I don't need you to do i can i swear..."

Yasha's gaze darkened as he quickly pulled his hand away

"You need to decide," he said simply. "You were raised for greatness. If you abandon your destiny, then you are nothing."

The words hit deeper than Night Ninja wanted to admit. Because that was the real question, wasn't it? If he didn't take their power... if he didn't win... then what was he?

What was he supposed to be?

Night Ninja turned sharply on his heel, his cape swishing behind him. "I'll handle it," he snapped. "My way."

Yasha didn't stop him. Didn't say another word. he just watched as Night ninja walked off.

"where did I go wrong?..." Yasha mumbled as he looked up at the Murali on the wall, the once tall strong dragon in the back was practically faded out "If he wont do it then I will...for the sake of my self hes not the only one on the clock"

*

Night Ninja strode down the temple halls, his heart pounding, one thing was clear.

He wasn't going to follow the prophecy. He wasn't going to be Yasha's puppet anymore. But if that was true... then what was he going to do? And how long could he keep lying to himself about it? 

He looked around his the halls up to his room, Yasha...he felt bad in a way i mean Yasha basically raised him when no one else would according to Yasha. So in a way he just couldn't- stop...it was complicated and he didn't what to think about it any more. And he made it to his door anyway.

Night Ninja flopped onto his bed, arms spread as he stared at the ceiling. The room around him was dark, silent, as disciplined as Yasha demanded it to be. Everything was in its proper place—his weapons lined up perfectly along the far wall, scrolls stacked in neat rows, the floor spotless. Not a single thing out of order. His room was exactly as he left it- neat, precise, orderly. Just like Yasha expected.

Everything in its place.

Everything controlled.

But Night Ninja didn't feel in control.

But then his gaze flickered upward.

To the one shelf. just high enough that no one would notice unless they were looking.

It held things that weren't neat, that weren't expected. A small wooden figure of a dragon, whittled from spare wood late at night. A smooth river stone with a swirl of blue running through it. A few scraps of colourful fabric, stitched together in a way that served no purpose other than to be his.

A collection of things Yasha would dismiss as distractions.

And maybe they were.

Night Ninja let out a breath, rubbing his eyes. He wasn't sure if the exhaustion was from the night's mission or the talk with Yasha.

The prophecy mural on the temple wall had changed. The once-bold ink of his destined victory of his triumph over the PJ Masks, the moment he would strip them of their spirit animal powers had begun to fade.

Like time itself was erasing it.

Like the universe knew what he refused to admit.

'I don't want to do this anymore.'

He squeezed his eyes shut. That wasn't right. That wasn't true. Yasha had taken him in when no one else would. Had given him purpose. Had trained him to be something great. He owed everything to Yasha.

Didn't he?

His fingers clenched into the blankets, and he exhaled sharply.

He just needed sleep. Sleep would make it better.

Just as he let his body relax, he heard a soft shuffle near the door.

A familiar sound.

His eyes snapped open. He turned his head just in time to see a small figure creeping into the room. One of his Ninjalinos.

The little one hesitated before scurrying closer, its tiny hands moving in quick gestures.

'Master?'

Night Ninja groaned and sat up, rubbing his face. "What?"

The Ninjalino fidgeted, tapping its fingers together before signing again.

'We heard Yasha. About the mural. About... you failing.'

Night Ninja stiffened.

"Failing...such and ugly word" He huffed before he forced a chuckle, waving a hand dismissively. "Yasha's just frustrated. He knows I'll get it right next time its just Yasha thinking I failed. There's a difference."

The Ninjalino hesitated before making another quick set of gestures.

'Your the reason prophecy is fading?...'

Night Ninja sat up, rubbing his face. "You sound just like him."

The Ninjalino puffed out its tiny chest, clearly taking that as a compliment. 'Yasha is wise. He knows what's best!'

Night Ninja exhaled sharply. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I hear it enough from him."

The Ninjalino shuffled its feet before signing again.

'But... you don't want to...do you?'

Night Ninja flinched, his stomach twisting. He forced a laugh. "What? That's ridiculous. Of course, I do."

The Ninjalino tilted its head. 'Liar.'

Night Ninja's fingers curled into his blanket. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

The Ninjalino climbed onto the bed beside him, signing slower this time.

'You are strong.'

Night Ninja rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

You are smart.

He snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

The Ninjalino paused before tapping his arm.

'Then why do you hesitate?'

Silence.

Night Ninja's throat tightened. He looked away, jaw clenched. "I don't."

The Ninjalino didn't move. Just stared at him.

Judging.

Waiting.

Night Ninja let out a long breath. His gaze flickered toward the high shelf the one place in his room where bits of him existed. Where he wasn't just Yasha's apprentice, wasn't just the villain of some grand prophecy.

Just some junk unless, a mess or and eyesore. Just himself Even if it wasn't grand or special it was to him.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "...Maybe I just want to do something for myself."

The Ninjalino shifted. 'Like what?'

Night Ninja hesitated. He didn't know. He never knew. He never let himself think about it. But the words slipped out before he could stop them—

"...Something during the day. Just once."

The Ninjalino tensed, fingers twitching.

'That's is not the way'

Night Ninja rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, maybe I want to see what the day is like."

The Ninjalino fidgeted, conflicted.  'Yasha would not approve.'

Night Ninja smirked. "Yeah. I know."

The Ninjalino hesitated for a long time before slowly signing—

'But would it make you happy?'

Night Ninja blinked. He hadn't expected that.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

For once... he didn't have an answer.

[a day, or two pass and the pj mask see little of Night ninja and his Ninjalino thought odd Greg and Amaya are joyed with this although Connors a little more worried]

Chapter Text

"Cool chameleons! Amaya, look!"

Greg’s voice cut through the morning air as he jogged up beside her, a bright flier fluttering in his hand. "They're holding a Lantern Festival here!"

He practically shoved it into her face, beaming. The colorful paper showed glowing dragon-shaped lanterns drifting into a starry sky, with swirls of gold ink and the elegant symbol of the two guardian dragons at the top.

"We should all go!" Greg said, eyes gleaming with hope. "I mean, it’ll be fun, right? Something chill. No villains, no patrols—just snacks, lights, and cool stuff floating in the sky!"

Amaya slowed her walk, arms crossed tightly as she stared at the flier… and then narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, sounds great," she muttered, tone dry as dust. "Just the two of us, you mean."

Greg’s smile twitched, faltered for a second. He scratched the back of his neck. "Well… I mean… I figured maybe Connor could come too?"

Amaya stopped walking.

Greg immediately regretted saying anything.

"You want to invite Connor?" she said, eyebrows shooting up. "Seriously?"

"He’s been trying, Amaya," Greg said quickly. "He’s just been… off lately. Maybe if we all hung out, y’know, outside of hero stuff—it might help?"

Amaya turned to fully face him, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and offense. "He vanished during a battle, Greg. And this isn't even the first time. Didn’t text, didn’t show, lied to our faces, and now you want to go play festival with him like nothing happened?"

Greg held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying, forget it—I just… I don’t want us falling apart."

But Amaya wasn’t listening anymore. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes flicked away toward the hallway, already half-lost in the sting of betrayal she wasn’t ready to forgive.

----------------------------------------------------

[Later That Afternoon]

The golden glow of late afternoon spilled into the kitchen, catching dust motes in the air and warming the white-tiled floor beneath Connor’s feet. He sat at the table in silence, idly spinning a spoon between his fingers as his mom moved quietly around the kitchen, setting a teapot down and wiping her hands on a dish towel.

She hadn’t said much when he came home—just a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes, and a soft, “You okay, honey?” when he dropped his bag by the door.

Now, she stood at the fridge, her gaze lingering on a few old photos pinned there. Connor didn’t need to look to know what she was staring at.

One photo showed him at maybe seven, face half-lost in a gap-toothed grin, hair wild and sticking out in every direction, a flimsy paper dragon hat sliding down one ear. He was clinging to his mom’s waist like she was the only solid thing in the world. Another photo—older, yellower at the edges—had the three of them on some beach trip none of them remembered well enough to call it a memory. His dad had an arm slung around them both, like he hadn’t already half-checked out even then.

Both photos were held up by a cheap, garish fridge magnet—chunky silver letters spelling out ‘HBD CONNOR’ like an afterthought. The kind of thing you’d buy last-minute at a gas station. A belated birthday “gift” from his dad, who hadn’t been around for years but still managed to make his absence felt in new ways. It always arrived two months too late, like always and shoved in a reused envelope that originally had his dads name stamped on, before he crossed it out and put 'Connor' on it. No wrapping. No note, just a dog-eared postcard from whatever faceless city he’d landed in this time, scrawled with the same hollow lines as every year:

“Sorry I missed it again, champ.” or even a“Twelve already? You’re getting so big. Wish I could see it. Maybe next time champ!” somthing like that.

He didn’t know anything, really He never called. Never asked about school, or what Connor was into lately. He didn’t know his favorite band had changed, or that he hated math now. He didn’t know that Connor had stopped waiting by the phone two birthdays ago. He knew nothing—Not about Connor, not about the woman he’d left behind to raise him. But he still signed the card like he was part of something. Like he had the right.

His mom never say a word when they ever came in the mail. Just quietly accepted the envelope like she hadn’t been gut-punched for the fifth year in a row. She always smiled. Always. It was her armor. She thanked the mailman. Closed the door. Pressed her forehead to it, just for a second. Then she slipped the magnet out, hands trembling more than she'd ever let him see, and put it on the fridge—like forcing it into place could somehow make any of it mean something.

She never cried in front of him. Not once. But he’d heard her, sometimes—late at night when the house was quiet. He knew she was trying. God, she was trying so hard. Stretching herself thin to be enough for both of them. But it didn’t stop the silence in the mornings, or the look she got when she thought he wasn’t watching—like she was afraid she was failing, even though she was the only one still showing up.

She touched one gently, her thumb brushing over the corner of the photo beneath it.

Connor looked away.

“You know,” she said, her voice light but wobbly around the edges, “they’re doing a Lantern Festival in town tonight. Big thing. Lights, food trucks, dragon dancers. The works.”

He didn’t respond right away.

She turned back to him, drying her hands on the towel again even though they were already dry. “I thought… maybe we could go. Together. Like we used to.”

Connor gave a slow blink and half-smile that didn’t hide the twitch of hesitation on his face. “Lanterns, huh?”

“I’ll even let you pick dinner,” she said, playful but hopeful. “Something deep fried and unreasonable.”

He chuckled quietly. “Tempting.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, the room felt warmer, like a memory instead of a moment. “It’s been a while since we did something. Just us. It just been hard and You’ve been… distant.”

“I’ve been busy,” Connor muttered, then regretted it. He saw the way her face fell, just a little.

She turned away again, back to the fridge. “I know. You’re growing up. You’ve got your own life now.”

There was a pause. A long one.

Then, softly: “But I miss you sometimes. Just thought you should know.”

The words hit harder than Connor expected. He looked at her back, how she stood so still, her hands wringing the tea towel. Guilt tightened in his chest like a knot. She was trying. He knew she was. “Okay,” he said finally, voice low. “I’ll go.”

She turned back around, surprised. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll, uh… I’ll go get ready.” Upstairs, Connor stood in front of his closet, holding a hoodie in one hand, then letting it drop onto the bed. He wasn’t sure what you wore to something like this—especially when your heart felt like it was carrying the weight of two worlds.

But he knew one thing for sure: he didn’t want to break another promise tonight.

Not to his mom.

----------------------------------------------------

The festival was everything the flyer had promised—colorful, glowing, loud in the best kind of way. Lanterns shaped like dragons floated overhead, trailing long paper tails that shimmered in the breeze. Street performers painted scales across their cheeks, and bursts of laughter came from kids running between food stands with sticky treats in hand.

Connor walked beside his mom, the crowd pushing in around them, the air buzzing with music and sizzling food. For a while, he let himself relax. He even smiled.

“Look at that one,” his mom said, nudging him as a dragon dancer twirled past, its giant puppet body snapping and weaving through a ring of children.

“Looks like something out of one of Greg’s favourite movies,” Connor muttered with a laugh, and she laughed too. It was easy, natural, the kind of moment they hadn’t had in a long time.

They stopped at a booth where you could throw tiny hoops onto plush dragons. His mom insisted on trying   and somehow managed to land a perfect throw on her third try. “You’re cheating,” Connor teased.

“Hey! I’m just talented,” she shot back with a grin, handing him the small plush she won. “Take it. A reminder I can still beat you at carnival games.”

------------

They picked a quiet food truck a little off the main path—no line, smells amazing. His mom ordered for both of them and found a spot on a low stone wall where they could sit.

But just as the food arrived, her phone buzzed.

She frowned as she looked down at the screen. “It’s work. I have to take this, honey—I'll be right back.”

Connor nodded. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

She stepped away, weaving through the crowd with the phone already at her ear.

Connor turned, balancing the food in his arms—and froze.

Amaya and Greg stood just a few feet away.

They hadn’t seen him yet. Greg was holding two glowing dragon lanterns and a tray of bubble tea. Amaya was scrolling on her phone, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

Then she looked up. Their eyes met.

Amaya’s expression tightened instantly.

Connor’s heart dropped. Not just because she looked surprised to see him, but because… they hadn’t told him they were going. They’d come here together. without him.

Greg saw him next and gave an awkward, sheepish wave. “Hey, Connor.”

Connor blinked, his voice dry. “Didn’t know we were doing team bonding without the whole team.”

Greg winced. “It’s not like that…”

But Amaya cut in. “You’ve been ignoring us for days. Why would we think you'd want to come?”

“I’ve been busy,” Connor replied, barely keeping his voice level.

“You’re always 'busy',” Amaya snapped. “You disappear, you lie, and then what—pretend nothing happened?”

Connor clenched his jaw, the food still in his hands getting heavier by the second. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” Her voice sharpened. “Didn’t think we’d notice? That we’d care?”

Greg stepped between them. “Guys—c’mon. Not here. Not now...”

But Amaya didn’t back down. Her eyes burned as she looked at Connor.

“Connor,” she said, voice low and firm. “Just say it.”

-------

The golden glow of lanterns lit up the evening sky, their soft flickering lights mirrored in Amaya’s narrowed eyes as she crossed her arms. The festival buzzed around them, laughter and music filling the air, but all Connor could focus on was the sharp edge in her voice.

"Connor, just say it." Amaya’s foot tapped impatiently on the stone path beneath them. “If you’re sorry, then explain why you ditched us! Why weren’t you there?”

“I—I told you, I was just… busy,” Connor stammered, shifting his weight. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Busy,” Amaya repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “Right. And you couldn’t even text? Couldn’t say anything? You just disappeared, Connor! Do you even know how frustrating that is?”

Connor swallowed hard. He wanted to explain, but how could he? Sorry, I was too busy running across rooftops and getting tangled up in something I don’t even understand myself. That would go over well.

"I didn’t mean for you to be mad, I just—"

"Then why do you keep dancing around it?!" Amaya snapped, throwing her hands in the air. "You keep saying ‘I didn’t mean to’ like that makes it better! Just tell me the truth or don’t waste my time!"

Connor opened his mouth, then closed it. The truth wasn’t an option.

Amaya’s shoulders dropped, like she was too exhausted to argue anymore. Without another word, she spun on her heel and walked away, disappearing into the festival crowd.

Connor let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"Great. Just great."

He watched as people around him tied their written wishes to lanterns, letting them drift into the sky. Wishes. Fixing things wasn’t as easy as writing a wish on a piece of paper. If only it were.

----------------------------------------------------                               

High above the festival, in the darkened temple carved into the Mystic Mountains, Night Ninja stood by the window, staring at the sky. The lanterns looked like tiny stars, carrying scraps of people’s hopes with them.

He had seen this festival before. Every year, people send their wishes into the sky, hoping the dragons will grant them.

"Fools."

Yasha always said wishes had to be earned, not granted. People were weak. Greedy. They expected something just because they wanted it. That was why Yasha refused to let him go down there. Why Yasha said the spirit animals must be returned to those truly worthy.

His fingers twitched at his side.

A warm breeze carried one of the drifting papers close enough for him to reach. On instinct, he stretched his hand out and caught it before it could rise too high. The ink was slightly smudged, but he could still read the message:

"I wish I could fix things."

Something about it made him pause.

It wasn’t a wish for power. Or wealth. Or something selfish. It was… small. Quiet. Honest.

'Who wrote this?'

For a moment, he considered letting it go, letting it continue its journey upward like it was supposed to. But instead, his fingers curled around it, holding it tight.

A soft creak of the floor behind him made him stiffen.

"Night Ninja."

He turned. Yasha stood in the dim torchlight, arms folded behind his back, his long robes trailing like shadows. His presence alone made the room feel colder.

"You are watching the festival again," Yasha stated, his voice smooth but edged with disapproval.

Night Ninja shifted slightly. "...It's just a bunch of people throwing lanterns in the sky."

"It is foolishness," Yasha said, stepping forward. "They send their empty desires into the heavens, hoping dragons or who knows will grant them favors they have not earned. It is a weakness. And weakness must not be entertained."

Night Ninja looked back at the floating lights. He had heard this speech before.

"I was just looking," he muttered.

Yasha narrowed his eyes. "You wish to go down there. Dont you?"

Night Ninja didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

"You forget," Yasha said coolly, stepping beside him. The tall, pale man moved with quiet authority, his long silver hair cascading over his shoulders. His ice-blue eyes glinted with disdain as he looked down at the town below. "Humans are undeserving. They do not cherish what they are given. Look at them—pleading for things they have not earned."

He plucked a floating lantern from the air and held it out. The delicate paper crinkled slightly in his pale hand. “Look,” he said, showing Night Ninja the writing. ‘I wish for fame.’ He grabbed another. ‘I wish for riches.’

“See? Nothing but selfish wants and empty pleads. This is why the spirit animals must be reclaimed. Their power does not belong to such creatures.”

Night Ninja’s grip tightened around the small wish he had hidden behind his back. He hadn’t meant to keep it, but the words had struck him: ‘I wish I could fix everything.’ They felt real. Honest.

“What if…” Night Ninja spoke carefully, eyes flicking toward the man beside him. “What if some aren’t that bad?” His voice was softer now, nearly swallowed by the wind. His body tensed, prepared for anything, his eyes searching Yasha’s face for a sign—any sign—of openness.

Yasha’s expression hardened instantly. His piercing yellow eyes narrowed, and the corners of his mouth curved downward into a deep scowl. Silence fell over the temple like a weight.

“I have watched them for years, centuries even,” he hissed, voice suddenly sharp like a blade unsheathed. “And you dare question my knowledge?!”

Night Ninja flinched but didn’t back away. Not this time. He slowly looked down at the wish in his hand, then back out over the glowing town. His voice, barely above a whisper, trembled with something between defiance and hope.

“…Maybe you're not watching close enough.”

Yasha’s growl reverberated through the ancient stone walls of the temple. The once-calm wind that drifted through Mystic Mountain now howled like a warning. His steps echoed, deliberate and volatile, the air thick with the tension of something about to snap.

He raked a hand violently through his silver hair, the normally graceful motion now erratic and sharp, like he was trying to rip the thoughts from his skull. His claws scratched against his scalp, his breath ragged, chest rising and falling with the effort of restraint.

“What. Did. You. Say.” His voice came low and razor-edged, each word laced with a venomous tremble. His eyes locked onto Night Ninja like twin blades. “I gave you purpose when no one else even saw you. I carved you out of the shadows with my own hands—built your path from dust and defiance. And now you stand before me, questioning me?” He stepped forward, his presence oppressive. “Like some naive child throwing stones at a storm and thinking they’ll land?”

Night Ninja didn’t step back. Or step down

“I didn’t ask for a path,” Night Ninja said, voice low and trembling—but steady. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

The words hung in the air like a blade between them, sharp in their quiet honesty. Yasha’s eyes narrowed, the flicker of pain behind them drowned quickly by fury. His expression twisted—disbelief tightening his jaw, his brow dark with rage barely contained.

“You didn’t ask?” he echoed, voice laced with something between mockery and fury. He took a step forward, and the air between them felt like it might shatter. “You were nothing when I found you. A stray. A spark in the dark that would’ve burned out without even being noticed.”

His silver hair whipped slightly in the mountain wind as he ran a hand through it again—this time slower, but no less tense. His claws paused near his temple, digging just enough to ground himself before he spat the truth he carried like a blade.

“You would have been a misfit, playing pretend in the dirt with scraps offered by fools like Romeo and Luna Girl. They would’ve used you. Forgotten you.” He stepped closer, eyes burning. “They had nothing. I gave you power. I gave you direction. I gave you a legacy, carved from fear and flame and discipline. And this is how you repay me? By whining like a child with no idea what the world would’ve done to you without me?”

His voice cracked just slightly on that last line—so quick it almost sounded like a growl, but it was there. The buried truth beneath all the cruelty: that Yasha believed what he did was mercy. Twisted, brutal mercy.

Night Ninja’s fists clenched at his sides, the trembling no longer fear—but fury. When he spoke, his voice was steady, sharp as a blade drawn from a long-silenced scabbard. “No. You gave me chains and called them purpose.” The words split the air like a crack of thunder. Even the mountain seemed to freeze. The wind, moments ago wild and restless, stilled like it dared not interrupt.

Yasha’s head turned slightly, his posture still, but the change was instant—like the subtle shift before a landslide. His eyes narrowed, cold and gleaming, and when he finally spoke, it was a low, feral growl. “Careful.”

But Night Ninja didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. His voice rose—ragged, cracking, bleeding from places he'd kept stitched shut for years.

“You gave me rules so tight I forgot what breathing felt like. I wasn’t allowed to think, to feel, to be! Sixteen years of living under your command, marching to your every word, not as a person—but a tool. You didn’t raise me to live. You raised me to obey!”

Yasha stepped forward, slow and ominous, his movements controlled—too controlled, like every muscle fought against something primal. The air thickened around him, heavy with heat and the scent of something ancient stirring. His long silver hair lifted slightly in the wind, but it wasn’t just wind—it was energy, rippling outward, barely leashed.“I taught you discipline,” he growled, deeper now, as if the voice wasn't entirely his anymore. “I taught you strength. That is why you are still alive.”

But even as he said it, his breath came faster, less steady. His shoulders trembled—not from fear, but from effort. His claws curled at his sides, digging into his palms. Pale scales began to shimmer faintly at the base of his neck and jaw, white as moonlight, as if something beneath the surface was trying to break through.

His eyes—now glowing with a soft, unnatural hue—locked onto Night Ninja’s with a rage that barely masked something else. Not guilt. Not regret.

Disgust. At himself.

he could see him self in the reflection of all the swords on the wall on other shining bits hanging around. He could see everything. Yasha didn’t want to be seen in that form—not by anyone, not even himself.

So he swallowed it down. Swallowed the fire rising in his throat, the fury in his bones. He locked it behind the wall of command, cruelty, and justification he’d always used to keep it buried.

But the cracks were showing.

And Night Ninja had finally hit something that made the god flinch.

“Survived,” Night Ninja repeated, the word dripping with bitterness. “Not lived. Just… survived.”

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, not from fear—but from the storm he’d been holding back for far too long. The storm that had finally broken loose.

“You talk about saving me from being like Romeo and Luna Girl—but at least they let me laugh. You kept me locked away in these cold stone walls while the world moved on without me! You handed me the Ninjalinos like they were a gift, like I should be grateful—but they weren’t family, Yasha. They were soldiers. Students.”

He took a step forward, fists trembling.

“I had to train them. Protect them. Raise them—because if I didn’t, no one else would!”

Yasha’s eyes twitched. His lips parted—maybe to interrupt, maybe to deny—but Night Ninja pushed through, voice sharp, shaking, rising.

“I raised them more than you ever raised me. And not because you asked me to—but because I had to. Because I couldn’t take being alone anymore. I had to become something you never let me be.”

He swallowed hard.

“Human.”

For a moment, it was like the temple itself breathed in.

Then it exhaled in heat.

The flames of the nearby lanterns flickered violently as the air warped around Yasha. His back arched, shoulders hunching as his form began to shift—slowly, then rapidly. His skin shimmered with a pearlescent sheen. Claws burst fully from his fingers. Horns began to curl from his skull. His body stretched, bones and sinew twisting into something no longer mortal.

The heat was suffocating. His power filled the room like a tidal wave, and still, he glared down at Night Ninja with burning, inhuman eyes.

“You ungrateful whelp,” Yasha growled, his voice warping—deepening—something ancient and monstrous threading through every syllable. “I shaped you from nothing. Made you a weapon. You are what you are because of me!”

But Night Ninja didn’t flinch.

He didn’t fight back.

He didn’t run.

His eyes, now wet with unshed tears, simply stared up at the creature before him—taller, broader, terrifying. And when he spoke, it wasn’t defiance. It was heartbreak.

“I hate what I am.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Yasha froze.

“I hate that I never got to choose,” Night Ninja continued. “That I don’t know what I would’ve been if someone had just loved me instead of trying to make me useful. I was just a kid. All I wanted was a chance to grow up.” Night Ninja fell to his knees.

He took the crumpled wish from his sleeve and held it out between them. ‘I wish I could fix everything.’

Yasha with a huff went back to being more human again. The silence that followed was different than before—heavier, sadder. Yasha looked at him, truly looked at him, and something in his eyes flickered. Not understanding. Not compassion. But recognition. Of something he hadn’t seen coming.

“You’ve changed,” he said coldly, the calm returning to his tone in a terrifying way. “Perhaps I was wrong to shape you in my image.”

Night Ninja stared him down. “Yeah. Maybe you were.” The words sat between them like a sword stabbed into the floor—final, painful, and impossible to take back.

Yasha exhaled slowly through his nose, running a trembling hand through his hair again—smoother this time, more distant. As if he were taming more than just the strands.

Then he turned his back to Night Ninja, voice low but laced with venom.

“Im Leaving. Before I decide that this conversation ends another way.”

Night Ninja lingered for a moment, the weight of what had just happened pressing on every nerve. His legs felt like stone. His chest, like it was both broken and hollow.

But Yasha just turned. And walked away.

Night ninja was still holding the wish. Still not letting go.

Yasha’s words were final. He had followed them all his life. Yasha had raised him, trained him, and made him stronger than anyone else ever could. He owed him.

But still…

He looked at the paper in his hands.

"I wish... I wish I could go back and change things..."

Chapter Text

The temple was silent again.

After the shouting, the shaking stone, after Yasha’s voice had cracked and cracked something inside him in return—there was nothing but wind. Night Ninja sat alone in the high alcove of the Mystic Mountain, knees pulled up, one hand resting on the stone step beside him, the other gripping the thin scrap of paper that had caused everything.

“I wish I could fix everything.”

His thumb rubbed against the ink. The paper was soft now—creased from how tightly he’d held it earlier when Yasha’s voice echoed in his ears, calling him ungrateful, foolish, soft. Sixteen years of being molded into a perfect, quiet shadow—and for what?

Below, the town glowed.

Flickering warm and alive, like a memory he was never given. Lanterns floated in lazy patterns across the sky, music lifting on the wind, laughter echoing up the mountainside like a strange lullaby he didn’t know the tune of.

His stomach churned.

This was stupid.

This was… everything Yasha hated.

But he stood by it.

He didn’t wear the armor.

He left it behind, piece by piece. It felt like shedding skin. All that was left was the mask—tight and familiar against his face—and a worn navy hoodie, zipped up over his usual dark undersuit. The hood was down, though. The air felt too real on his skin to hide completely.

He moved like a shadow out of instinct, the way he always had—but this wasn’t about hiding anymore. Not really. This was fear. Raw, jagged, suffocating fear that clung to his skin like static and refused to let go. His movements were tight, twitchy. Every step was a gamble. The grass beneath his shoes made a soft crunch and he flinched like he’d set off an alarm.

There were people out.

Not just one or two stragglers or the occasional night jogger—crowds. Crowds of them. They filled the sidewalks like floodwater, pressing against each other, laughing, shouting, bumping shoulders like it meant nothing. Kids ran between legs, their sneakers slapping against pavement, parents talking over each other, music thudding from somewhere close—bass rattling his teeth like someone shaking him from the inside.

His breath caught in his throat, sudden and sharp. 'No, no, no, too many.'

He froze under the buzz of a streetlamp, hoodie pulled low over his face, but it didn’t matter—he could still feel their eyes (even if said eyes wernt looking at him directly.) Like they knew. Like they could see him. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, too fast, too loud, and he couldn't tell if the shaking in his hands was cold or panic or both.

This is stupid. You're you. You're Night Ninja. You command armies. You fight heroes. You’re not supposed to—what, freeze because of a...celebration?

He tried to keep walking, to force himself into motion.

Just move. Walk. Act like you belong here.

But every step was wrong, like a reminder he was never meant to come. His arms didn’t swing right. His knees felt locked. His shoulders were hunched so high they nearly met his ears, muscles screaming. He jammed his hands deep into his pockets, gripping the fabric so hard his knuckles burned. If he just kept them there—if he kept everything tucked away—maybe he’d hold together.

The light from the booths and shopfronts flickered, too much and too fast, like fireworks behind his eyes. His vision blurred at the edges, pulsing in and out. Everything was too bright. The neon signs seared across his retinas, made his head throb. Every sound spiked—clattering change, someone dragging a chair, a baby wailing—and each one hit him like a slap.

He couldn’t sort the noises. Couldn’t process them. They crashed into each other, merged into a wall of static he couldn’t shut out.

The smell of fried dough and roasted peanuts turned his stomach, sticky and sweet and thick like oil coating the inside of his throat. Someone nearby wore cologne that made his nose sting. Another person was chewing gum, open-mouthed. A soda fizzed loudly in a plastic cup. He wanted to scream at them to stop, to shut up, to breathe quieter, but his own lungs weren't working right.

'What is wrong with you?'

He turned his face away and stumbled sideways into a narrow alley. The moment his shoulder brushed someone else’s coat, he recoiled like he’d been burned, spinning, heart hammering.

'Don’t touch me. Don’t—don’t touch me.'

He backed up against the cool brick of a building, pressing himself into the corner like it might swallow him whole. His chest heaved, but no air came. He couldn’t get a full breath. His throat felt like it was closing in. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. He tried. It wasn’t working. His vision spotted—white at the edges. Like snow. Like static. Like he was fading out.

His mask felt too tight, like it was shrinking against his face. His fingers clawed at the hem of it, then curled back, afraid to take it off. Afraid someone might see. Afraid he’d come undone the moment it left his skin.

A sharp laugh rang out from the street behind him.

He flinched. Threat?

No. Just a teenager. Probably. But his brain was already spiraling—every sound, every movement, meant danger. His body was reacting like he was under attack, but there were no weapons. Just families. Balloons. Music. Normalcy.

And he hated how small he felt in the middle of it.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to him. He was Night Ninja he could handle a few, what hundred people? Then again he couldn’t recall a moment in his life where he had been so out I the open in streets so full.

The shadows bent around him arching there ba ks as if to watch him as well. All he could think was how he’d scaled buildings and stolen tech and outsmarted heroes and now—now he was shaking in an alley like some scared kid?

He gritted his teeth and slammed his back harder into the wall, like pain might snap him out of it. It didn’t. His heart kept racing. His hands kept trembling. His mind kept screaming. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and growled under his breath.

'Get it together. You’re being pathetic. You’re better than this.'

He slid down the wall just a bit so hos knees were bent a little more, arms over his head, shivering like a leaf in a storm.

Yasha was right. He didn’t belong here. Not with them. Not with this world. His place was rooftops and silence and control. Not this chaos. Not this noise. Not this—

This feeling.

It made his skin itch. Made his brain short-circuit. Made his whole body want to shut down and crawl back into the dark and never come out again.

He couldn’t understand how people lived like this. How they walked around every day just—existing. Just being seen. Making it look so easy. So why did it feel so hard?

He curled tighter.

And for the first time in his life… he didn’t feel powerful.

He felt terrified.

Then—

A blur of motion.

A child rounded the corner at full speed and crashed right into him. Instinct kicked in—his body twisted, hand snapping out—he caught the kid before they could hit the ground. Just a reflex. Muscle memory.

The child blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes… then grinned.

“Whoa! Cool moves, mister!”

Night Ninja froze, hand still gently gripping the kid’s arm. The words hit him like a cold splash—so normal. So innocent.

Before he could even react, a woman came jogging after, breathless. “Luca! Oh my gosh—sorry, he just runs sometimes— thank you!” She offered Night Ninja an apologetic smile, grabbing the child’s hand. “Come on, sweetheart, what did i say about running to far a head.”

The kid waved as he was tugged away. “Bye, ninja guy!”

Just like that.

No fear. No recognition. No screaming.

Just a thank you.

He stayed still for a long second. Heart pounding.

He let out a shaky breath, a real one this time. The world was still too loud, still too fast—but something in his chest eased. Just a little.

He started moving again. Slower. Less like he was being hunted.

Maybe… not a mistake to come out.

Maybe not completely.

                                          ———

The festival square was brighter. Lanterns strung up like constellations, music flowing like water. He approached a stand with little wooden tokens and tiny lanterns. The man behind it looked up—older, greying, with a wary eye. Night Ninja said nothing, simply reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a small cloth pouch.

Inside: three old coins.

Coins he stole when he was thirteen. Dumb. Show-off. Trying to prove to Romeo he could swipe from anyone without blinking. He set them on the counter, hand trembling just slightly. Couldn’t even make eye contact.

The vendor stared. Then, slowly, slid a paper lantern toward him.

"I hope your wish comes true-"

He said as Night Ninja took ot and walked away.

He moved to the riverbank, away from the crowds. He sat cross-legged by the water, pulled out the wish from his pocket and another blank slip he took from the stand.

He didn’t write his name.

He didn’t need to.

On the new paper, he wrote:

“I wish I knew who I was.”

He stared at it for a long time.

Then, with gentle fingers, he hooked both wishes—his and the one he found—onto the lantern. Tied side by side. Lit it. And set it free, in the air.

He watched as it floated up, swallowed by dozens of other glowing specks. For a second, it looked like it was floating a little left... a little of course like maybe it could reach the mountain. Reach him.

But it wouldn’t.

Yasha wouldn’t read it.

Yasha wouldn’t care.

But he hopped it did anyway.

                                           ———

Just on top of the bank…

Connor stomped along the pathway, furiously kicking a loose rock that clattered across the dusty and dry trail and vanished into the night. His arms were crossed tight, jaw clenched, heart thudding too hard for how still the night was supposed to be. Another fight with Amaya. Another blown training session. Another stupid moment where his brain short-circuited and his instincts twisted sideways.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him anymore. Nothing felt right. His skin didn’t even feel like his. He was supposed to be focused. A leader. Not… whatever this was. He glared at a nearby lantern, ready to snap at the next thing that looked at him funny.

Then froze.

Down on the street—just across the way, near the canal—someone moved.

Half-hidden behind a lamppost, hoodie pulled up around tense shoulders, the familiar sharp lines of that mask catching the flickering light—

Night Ninja.

Out here.

In public?!

Connor’s pulse spiked. “No way,” he whispered, dropping into a crouch behind a festival cart’s overhang, peering down with wide eyes.

Was he dreaming?

But no—there he was. The actual Night Ninja. Just standing there like he belonged. Not fighting. Not sneaking. Just… there. Coming back up from releasing a lantern? Couldn’t be right? in his hands?  Maybe with that strange, delicate care in a soft and tender-... connor shook his head and tried not to think anymore about it.

He looked… small. Not like the annoying, smirking villain Connor always yelled at across rooftops. Not like the guy he kept getting weirdly flustered around. Not the guy who’d started haunting his thoughts so much it made him mess up in training. Miss his cues. Lying instead of just explaining himself for his own friends, but what could he even say he didn’t even know how he felt -

Connor gripped the edge of the cart, breath shallow. He would have stayed if the man didn't tap his spatula on the side of the cart just over is head loud enough to catch his attention.

"Hey kid- do you mind your in the way of customers" 

The man looked annoyed as he handed food to the person in front of him, and Connor all embarrassed said "sorry-" and shuffled away

What is he doing here?

What am I doing watching him like this?  Connor thought as he slowly walked around still just behind night ninja as he walked up and away from the canal. He should call the others. Should alert someone. Should move into action.

But he didn’t.

He just stayed hidden. Heart pounding in his ears louder than the music below. Eyes locked on the boy who wasn’t supposed to be part of this world—and yet somehow fit into it better than Connor ever expected.

As Night Ninja trailed off over to the park—that was holding a little night garden. All lit up and pretty—Connor couldn't help but look down at himself 

Connor’s footsteps dragged as he wandered back toward the edge of the festival, eyes flicking nervously over the lights strung in the trees like glowing webs. Laughter and music floated all around him, but it all felt distant—muffled. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing anymore.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

He was supposed to be watching the wall—waiting in case his mom came back. They were going to walk the festival together. That was the plan. That was the normal thing. But instead…

Instead, he’d followed him. Without thinking. Without even realizing it until now.

His stomach twisted. “Crap…” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face as he turned around. "I'm such a weirdo..." Connor mumbled to himself as he stopped in his tracks, watching as Night Ninja blended back into the crowd and was gone...he let him get away. Embarrassment flared hot in his chest. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling—just that it was weird, and wrong, and heavy. His feet moved faster, crunching along the path as he tried to shake it off. He just needed to get back to the gate. Go home. Forget this happened.

Almost there. Just a little further.

Then—

snap.

A blur of motion.

Something yanked him sideways, off the main path and into the dark. His back slammed hard against a tree, bark digging into his hoodie, his breath knocking right out of him.

A hand pinned him by the collar. A face inches from his.

“Why are you following me?! What do you want?!”

Connor gasped, every muscle locking up. His heart was in his throat.

He knew that voice. Even raw with anger and panic, he knew it.

Night Ninja.

Connor winced, head bumping the tree as he flinched. His eyes cracked open, blinking against the lantern-glow and sudden closeness, the rough bark jabbing into his back and shoulder. His whole body twitched beneath the grip, pulse thundering.

“I—I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” Connor stammered, heart slamming against his ribs, eyes locked on the figure in front of him.

Night Ninja’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. His grip was tight, but it shook slightly. He was breathing hard—not like someone who had just won a fight, but like someone holding themselves together by threads.

“You were following me,” he snapped. But something in his voice faltered, like the words came out on instinct, not purpose. “Why.”

Connor didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His brain was still trying to piece together how he got here. Caught. Cornered. And yet… not exposed.

Because Night Ninja wasn’t looking at him like an enemy.

He was looking at him like a stranger.

After a long beat, Night Ninja’s grip loosened. His hand dropped from Connor’s collar with a quiet exhale, almost like he was tired of being angry.

“You’re just… some kid,” he muttered, stepping back. “Great...”

Connor blinked, pressed to the tree, body still buzzing with adrenaline. "Yeah...some kid" He mumbled 

Night Ninja turned slightly, posture tense but not aggressive now. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “Not gonna lie, you were almost decent at sneaking. Not half bad. Would’ve been unstable if it wasn’t, y’know… so obvious.”

Connor opened his mouth—then closed it again. His brain short-circuited at the unexpected… compliment? Insult? Both?

Night Ninja gave a small, exhausted huff, tugging his hoodie lower like it could shield him from the world. “Whatever. Just don’t follow me again, alright?”

"I doubt we'll ever meet again..." Night Ninja shortly mumbled after 

He didn’t bolt. Didn’t vanish into smoke or shadows. He just stood there, awkward in the dark, the buzz of the festival humming softly behind them.

And Connor saw it again—that glimpse of something real. Not the villain. Not the smirking rival.

Just a boy. Maybe tired. Maybe lonely.

And suddenly, Connor didn’t feel like running anymore either.

Night Ninja didn’t move right away.

Neither did Connor.

The air between them felt tight—like it might snap at any second—but instead, it stretched... then thinned.

And then, with a tilt of his head and a lazy smirk curling beneath his mask, Night Ninja broke the silence.

“Sooo,” he drawled, voice sliding back into that familiar cocky rhythm, “you always chase after masked strangers, or am I just that special?”

Connor flushed instantly. “I wasn’t!—” he stammered, the words tripping over themselves like they’d never belonged to him in the first place.

Night Ninja laughed under his breath—not cruel, just amused. His posture relaxed, hands sinking into his hoodie pockets as he leaned casually against the nearest tree, like he hadn’t just body-checked someone into the bark.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he said, giving Connor a slow once-over. “Bold move. Dumb, but bold. You might actually survive out here if you stop leading with your face.”

Connor’s mouth opened to argue—but nothing came out.

“Cute, though,” Night Ninja added with a shrug, his tone laced with teasing, as he watched Connor flinched when he spoke. “Has anyone ever told you that you flinch like a...a..." he stopped to think of a good comparison 

"a cat?” He snapped his fingers as the thought struck, pleased with himself.

Connor froze, eyes flicking down and away. “What!? No—I-I don’t!”

“Uh, yeah, you do. If you had ears, they’d totally be twitching right now.” Night Ninja laughed, clearly picturing it. “Maybe even a tail puff.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Connor muttered, crossing his arms with an annoyed huff.

'Why dose of feel so easy to talk to this kid- it feels like I've known him for years or something...' Night Ninja thought as he looked at Connor a bit more closely confused, but yet intrigued.

Connor’s phone buzzed. A text lit up the screen from his mom:

‘Sorry sweetie. I saw you with your friends and didn’t want to intrude. I had to rush off to work again.

Sorry—I’ll make it up to you. Love you.’

Connor's shoulders slumped slightly. She probably would've saved him from the whole fight with Amaya if she'd stepped in. He didn’t even realize he’d pulled a face until Night Ninja tilted his head.

“Hey—?” His voice had dropped an octave, curious 

Chapter Text

The room was silent, cloaked in the stillness that came when night crept in, and the city finally exhaled. It was a rare night off for the PJ Masks-no alarms, no villain chases, no last-minute missions.

Connor lay sprawled across his bed, his blue pyjamas slightly twisted from tossing and turning. The glow of his phone lit up his face, casting long shadows over the chaos of his room. Crumpled homework papers were scattered near his desk next to the latest master fang comic books, and a sock hung from his lamp like it belonged there.

He stared at the screen, still in disbelief over the long, weirdly normal texting session he was in the middle of.

With him.

Connor squinted at the messages as if staring hard enough might explain how he got here. Why he was here. It didn't make sense-this was the guy who tried to flood the park last week with sticky goo and had once tied him to a tree with enchanted tape.

And yet... here he was. Casual. Chatting. It was just another boring Tuesday night.

Connor chewed the inside of his cheek, heart thumping softly, confused, and kind of... glad? He hadn't really had anyone to talk to lately. Amaya was still mad at him-like, not-just-eye-roll mad, but serious, sharp-toned silence mad. Greg had been quietly keeping his distance, clearly trying not to pick sides.

His phone buzzed again.

Another message.

From him.

Connor stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply box, the blue light reflecting off the tangled mess that was his life-and his floor.

                                   ———

[A few hours before]

flickering lantern light and the dark hush of the garden display nearby.

Night Ninja tilted his head, still watching him. 

"Hey-?" His voice had dropped an octave, curious now. "You alright?"

Connor blinked, yanked out of his thoughts. His fingers tightened around his phone, thumb ghosting over the screen before he clicked it off and shoved it deep into his pocket.

Whatever emotion had slipped through, he wiped it clean from his face.

"It's nothing," he said quickly-too quickly. He didn't look up.

Night Ninja didn't move. Didn't mock or tease like he normally would. Just... waited. His body language softened, arms resting loosely at his sides instead of crossed or defensive. "Didn't look like nothing."

Connor let out a breath that wasn't quite a sigh, gaze drifting down to the dirt path beneath his sneakers. "It's... just family stuff. You don't need to worry about it."

The words came out stiff, mechanical. Like armor he'd had to rebuild mid-sentence. He turned slightly, angling away like he wanted to disappear into the trees. Hide behind something. Maybe everything.

Night Ninja watched him carefully, the edge in his grin dulling into something... else. Something gentler. Maybe even real.

"You know," he said after a moment, "you're allowed to let people care. Even if they wear masks."

Care?

Connor's breath caught in his throat, just for a second. His head dipped lower. Lips pressed into a thin line like he was holding something back-something sharp or soft, he couldn't tell.

"I don't even know who you are," he muttered, voice barely above the crickets, He was obviously lying but managed to hide it pretty well.

Night Ninja gave a quiet huff of laughter. "Yeah, well... yeah, neither do you."

Connor's head snapped up. "What?"

But Night Ninja was already turning, pushing off the tree like the conversation hadn't cracked open something between them. The smirk was back, curling beneath his mask like it never left.

"Nothing," he said lightly. "Guess I'm just full of cryptic wisdom tonight."

"No, that just didn't make sense," Connor grumbled, brow furrowed. He wasn't even sure if he was annoyed, confused, or just exhausted from trying to keep up with whatever weird game Night Ninja was playing.

Night Ninja turned slightly, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Maybe not," he said. "Or maybe you're just too dumb to work it out." He smirked

Connor opened his mouth-no comeback came. All he could say was, "Im not dumb!-" His phone buzzed again, the faint vibration sharp in the quiet. He glanced at it, reluctant... but instinctive.

It was from his mom again. This time, he says how she'll be home late and we're the spear key is, all normal at this point with how often she runs. 

Connor's eyes were still on the text from his mom, the screen casting a pale glow across his face. His thumb hovered over it, like he was going to type something. But he didn't.

Night Ninja noticed.

He didn't say anything right away. Just stepped closer, quiet enough that the only sounds were leaves rustling and some distant laughter from the festival.

"You don't have to tell me," he said gently, voice lower now, "but... you look like you kind of want to."

Connor's jaw tightened, his eyes locked somewhere distant. “It’s dumb,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

“Still matters,” Night Ninja said, voice unexpectedly gentle.

Connor didn’t answer at first. His lips pressed into a thin line like he was holding something back—but then it cracked.

“My- someone bailed on me. Again.” His voice broke slightly, rough with emotion he didn’t want to show. “She said she saw I was having 'fun' and didn’t want to interrupt. But I wasn’t. I—I needed her to interrupt. It probably would've save what little friendship i had let with them two anyway...” He shook his head, like he hated the words even as he said them. “She used to be around more. And she never had a problem barging in before. it like she dosnt wnat to be around me anymore, Im.  I'm clearly the problem here.” Connor rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the ground. “She works so much. Says it’s all for us, for me. And I believe her. I do. I know she’s doing her best. But… it still hurts. And it hurts to think that im making thing worse or harder or maybe she has doubts about me or maybe...” Connor just continues rambling and listing things off pointless reasons why or what could happen.

Night Ninja didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. He just stood there, quiet, letting Connor talk.

He leaned back against the tree, head tilted toward the sky like he could exhale all the ache out of his chest. “I always say im fine it's fine. To her. To everyone. But it’s not. Not really." The words felt like they were tumbling out of someone else’s mouth.

“I know I’m lucky. Compared to some people. I know others have it way worse. But sometimes…” He blinked hard. “Sometimes I just need her to be there. Not for a second. Not while checking her phone. Just there. With me.”

He crossed his arms tightly across his chest, like he was trying to hold something in. “And then I fought with my friends earlier and—I don’t know. I guess it all just hit at once.”

The silence that followed wasn’t cold or heavy. It was patient. Present.

Connor glanced at Night Ninja, half-expecting a sarcastic quip. But he only saw someone listening.

“Maybe I’m just being selfish,” Connor mumbled. “Or dramatic. Or both.”

“No,” Night Ninja said softly, his tone steady. “You’re being honest.”

Connor let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Well… doesn’t feel good.”

“No. It usually doesn’t.”

Another beat of silence passed. Not uncomfortable—just real.

And for the first time that day, Connor didn’t feel like he had to apologize for how he felt. Connor blinked. That wasn't the kind of thing he expected to hear from someone who usually spent his nights causing chaos and acting like the world was beneath him.

Night Ninja shifted on his feet.

“Yash—” Night Ninja started, then stopped himself. His jaw clenched. He looked away, like the name itself carried weight. “My guardian… he always said weakness is something you carve out of yourself. That caring about people—depending on them—gets you hurt. Or worse.”

Connor blinked. It wasn’t what he expected. He’d never really pictured Night Ninja having a life outside the chaos of their nightly fights. Never imagined someone raising him.

He was quiet a moment. “Your… guardian?”

Night Ninja gave a half-laugh, humorless. “More like a shadow that never went away. He trained me. Watched everything I did. If I messed up, he made sure I remembered it.” He slightly mumbled mumbled the last bit not knowing wether he was letting this random kid in on to much. If he was going to far.

Connor stared at him, the silence stretching. 'who would have guessed. But then when you say it out loud of course he must have Someone. ' He thought 

Night Ninja  shifted, uncomfortable in his own skin. “I used to believe him. About weakness. That if you let anyone see your cracks, they’d tear you apart.”

Connor tilted his head, really looking at him now. “But you don’t anymore?”

Night Ninja was quiet. His fingers flexed restlessly at his sides. “I don’t know. Maybe I still do. I still catch myself building walls without thinking. Still hate how vulnerable I feel when I—” He stopped. “Never mind.”

Connor didn’t press. Just waited.

Night Ninja’s voice was quieter when he spoke again. “But then I see people like you. You’re… different.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Night Ninja’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. “You walk around like you’ve got everything figured out. Like you’re the golden kid. But then you talk like this—raw and messy and stupidly open—and I realize… you’re just trying, same as the rest of us.”

He looked away, swallowing. “And I think… maybe caring isn’t weakness. Maybe it’s just human.”

The quiet between them wasn’t heavy anymore. It was thoughtful. Alive.

Connor, arms still folded, gave a soft breath of laughter. 'Didn’t think I’d ever have something in common with Night Ninja.' He thought before saying "your actual quite nice aren't you?"

Night Ninja glanced at him, a slow smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Connor smiled too—small, but real.

And in that moment, two people raised on opposite sides of the line—hero and villain, light and shadow—stood together, not as enemies, not even as friends, but as two boys who’d both been left behind in different ways... and found something familiar in each other.

Connor stared at him, stunned. Something in his chest hurt-in a good, terrible kind of way. "Why are you being nice?" he asked, half-whisper.

Night Ninja gave a crooked, lopsided grin. "Because you looked like you needed someone to be."

Then, without asking, he stepped closer and gently grabbed Connor's arm. Connor stiffened-but Night Ninja didn't hurt him. Didn't tease.

He pulled a pen from his hoodie-one Connor was 90% sure had been swiped from one of the festival booths-and quickly scribbled something onto Connor's wrist.

Digits. 

A number. His handwriting was messy, slanted, but legible.

"There," he said, capping the pen. "In case you ever wanna talk. Or vent. Or just... not be alone."

Connor looked down at the number, blinking like it might disappear.

"I thought you didn't care about people."

"I don't," Night Ninja said with a small, crooked smile. "But I think you might be the exception."

Connor's heart fluttered so hard it almost hurt.

He didn't say anything right away-didn't know what to say.

So he just nodded.

And for the first time in a long while... he didn't feel so alone.

Chapter Text

Night Ninja lay on his back in the pristine quiet of his room, the paper walls of the temple casting long, geometric shadows under the soft blue of moonlight. His bed was immaculately made-just like everything else in his space-but he'd ruffled the blanket just a little, a calculated mess. Relaxed, not sloppy. 

Never sloppy.

In his gloved hands rested the phone. Sleek, scuffed at the edges. 

He'd lifted it off a careless tourist in the city months ago-just to prove he could. A flex. A thrill. A reminder that no one ever saw him coming.

Back then, it was just a trophy. A "dumb man's plaything," as Romeo had so eloquently dubbed it after one of his more theatrical tantrums. 

The kid had tried (and I mean really tried) to hack into it. Face scrunched up, wires sticking out everywhere, nearly short-circuiting his own tools in the process. For someone who considered himself a tech genius, Romeo had practically exploded when the lock screen refused to budge.

It had been funny. Made even better when all he had to do was press the zero button four times.

Night Ninja hadn't even wanted the thing anymore after that. Not really. It was just some human junk. He tossed it in a drawer and didn't think about it, until Luna Girl started asking about it.

She said she wanted the number. Just to send more photos. 

Yeah. Because of course she did.

She was like one of those weird cat people Night ninja would overhear people talking about. Except instead of fuzzy kittens, it was winged insects. Blurry snapshots, glowy eyes, captions like "LOOK AT HIM," or "My son climbed a wall today 🥹." Sometimes he replied with a '👍' just to make her stop texting. It never worked.

So yeah. he memorised the number. 

Mostly to shut her up. 

That's what he told himself.

But then came that night.

That stupid night.

He didn't even know the kid. Some random, soft-spoken stranger he'd bumped into in the middle of nowhere. He wasn't even supposed to stop. Just a glance, just a moment. But then he saw that mopey face all slouched shoulders and quiet sadness, like the kid didn't even know why he was sad and something just... unlocked.

Night Ninja couldn't believe how much he talked.

He never talked that much. Not to his Ninjalinos. Not to Luna Girl. Not even to himself. But with this kid, the words just poured out. Like he was full of them and didn't know until then.

Then, before he even knew what he was doing, he gave up the number.

The number leapt into his mind and slipped out like it belonged to the kid.

And now?

Now he was here. Lying on his bed. Staring at a glowing screen like it had answers.

Like it was alive.

His thumb hovered above the message box. His heart did something annoying in his chest.

It was just a phone.

It used to be a joke.

Now it was everything.

And the worst part? He still didn't even know who the kid really was.

He was just a number. 

A voice. 

A mood.

A weight that scratched under his ribs and refused to leave.

A buzz went off.

It was the phone.

Unknown Number: hey

The bubble lingered in the space between them-digital and fragile. 

Night Ninja: Hey. Took you long enough.

He blinked at the screen, something dumb tugging at the corners of his mouth. He almost regretted sending it. Almost.

The typing dots blinked.

Unknown Number: Says you. I've had your number saved for hours you could have just texted something first.

Night Ninja: Sorry, I was busy not getting caught being nice to some random dude 

Unknown Number: Oh no, not the mysterious hoodie guy being soft. The horror.

Night Ninja snorted.

Night Ninja: You remember the hoodie. Cute.

Unknown Number: It was kind of hard to miss, tbh.

You're like a walking shadow commercial.

Night Ninja stared at the message for a moment, chest warm. Then his fingers moved again.

Night Ninja: So... you good? Earlier felt kinda heavy

A pause. Longer this time.

Then

Unknown Number: I guess. I mean, not really. 

But I've had worse nights.

You were... weirdly helpful.

Thanks for that.

Night Ninja swallowed. His room felt quieter than usual. Still. Like the whole temple was holding its breath.

Night Ninja: Don't get used to it

Unknown Number: Too late.

Another beat.

Night Ninja: You ever gonna tell me your name

Or should I keep calling you Sad Eyes

Unknown Number: Seriously?

That's what you've been calling me?

Night Ninja: not out loud...

yet...

He stared at the dots. They blinked for longer this time. Then:

Unknown Number: It's Connor.

Don't make it a thing.

His thumb paused.

Night Ninja: Connor

hm

ok

It suits you

Connor: Don't know if I should be flattered or insulted.

Night Ninja: depends

Do you wanna keep talking?

Connor didn't answer right away.

Night Ninja's stomach twisted in that familiar, annoying way again. Like the moment just before a fight where everything tensed up.

Then the bubble appeared:

Connor: Yeah. I do.

Night Ninja leaned back against his pillow, exhaling like he'd been holding his breath since the festival.

He tapped out one last message.

Night Ninja: good

cause i kinda like talking to you

Weird, right?

Connor: Weird.

But not bad.

He smiled. Just a little.

The number used to be a joke.

Now it was a lifeline.

----------------------------

Connor sat in his room and looked up at his phone. What the he'll did he just do?! Why did he give his name out? God he could have at least kept it to a fake name but nooooo he just had to present his real name right there 

'It's fine he doesn't know...he can't know right-'

He told himself. Suddenly, a thought popped into his head he could use this as a way to make it up to Amaya and Greg... I mean if Night Ninja has no clue about him being Him then maybe get info and future insight into his plans. It sounded dumb but he really was out of ideas. 

'No time like the present-'

Connor: Well, now I have to know what should I call you? Hoodie guy doesn't have the best ring to it.

Dots blinked while Connor felt his heart pounding, this was stupid of course he wouldn't give his name out and of course, he couldn't get info he was meant to be playing some normal teenage boy not a nighttime hero.

Night Ninja: Call me what you like

Of course it didn't work...

Connor: Come on a nickname sounds cruel

Please, please, please 

Night Ninja: Then call me NN.

This just made it more clear to Connor that he was really texting Night Ninja the initials didn't hide it at all, 'How can he be so sharp yet so blunt?' Connor thought to himself before he just sighed and went on with it.

--------------------

The next few weeks went kinda the same.

Connor would get up, drag himself to school, come home, maybe binge a show or half-finish his homework before heading out for night patrol. Sometimes he'd fight a few villains. Sometimes he'd fight him.

And then, later, he'd text "NN" about his day as if he hadn't just been trading kicks and insults with the same guy two minutes ago.

Night Ninja: hey connor

u up?

Connor: Yeah

hey! You're finally texting me first! 👀

something must've happened. Come on, spill.

Of course, he already knew what had "happened."

Connor was sitting on the edge of his bathtub, dabbing disinfectant on a scrape along his arm, a fresh one. Courtesy of a certain dark blue ninja.

Night Ninja: shut up :/

I was just bored alr

Connor: ouch!

So I'm just your boredom cure now? 😢

Do I mean nothing to you?? 😭💔

Connor added the emojis like a cushion all light-hearted and dramatic, the way he always teased when he wanted to keep things easy.

Night Ninja stared at the screen a little too long. His first instinct was to fire back something snappy "don't flatter yourself" or "as if." But the truth was...

He wasn't bored.

Not really.

He'd just wanted to see if Connor would answer.

Night Ninja glared at the screen like it had personally insulted him. The typing bubble flickered on and off a few times before he finally sent something.

Night Ninja: don't be dramatic 🙄

u just happened to reply fast, that's all

He tossed the phone beside him and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the usual smug comeback. It came fast.

Connor: lol okay sure 😏

Guess I'm just your favourite fast replier then

Night Ninja felt his mouth twitch, a half-smile he didn't mean to make. He didn't know why Connor's dumb little jokes hit like that. The kid had a way of sneaking under his skin - not loud, not pushy, just... there. Easy to talk to.

Night Ninja: You talk too much

Connor: says the guy who spent the whole of last night ranting to me about some girl who keeps sending him butterfly pics🤔

Night Ninja: MOTHS! 

Don't even dare mistake them ugly creatures for butterflies 😒

A few minutes passed before Night Ninja texted.

Night Ninja: And maybe I like the noise sometimes

The message hung there, heavier than it should've been. He considered deleting it, but the "seen" popped up too fast.

A pause. Three blinking dots. Then-

Connor: That's kinda sweet coming from you 😅

Night Ninja could almost hear the laugh in his voice soft, not mocking. It made something twist in his chest. He typed, erased, typed again.

Night Ninja: Don't tell anyone I said that

got a reputation to keep yk yk 🤨

Connor: secret's safe with me 🤫

I'm good at keeping them

That last message lingered. Too real, maybe. But Night Ninja didn't catch the weight behind it just thought it was another teasing line.

Night Ninja: good

wouldn't wanna ruin my whole dark-mysterious thing 😮‍💨

Connor: pfft yeah sure, totally mysterious

You're basically an open book lol

Night Ninja: says the guy who tells me everything he eats every day

Connor: Hey! Someone's gotta keep you updated 😤

What else are you gonna do without me?

Night Ninja's thumbs hovered. There were at least five different sarcastic answers in his head sleep, train, literally anything else but none of them felt right.

Instead, he typed:

Night Ninja: probably be bored again

He hit send before he could overthink it.

The typing bubble didn't come back right away this time. When it finally did, the reply was short but warm.

Connor: Then I guess it's a good thing I'm here 💙

Night Ninja stared at the message until the screen dimmed. His reflection looked back at him, mask off, shadows soft around the edges.

He didn't know what this was. He didn't know who the kid really was. But for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel alone in the quiet.