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I can barely piece together everything that happened that day, but I remember the moment it all began.
Mom, Dad, and I were at the “Take Back Ninjago Rally,” full of hope and energy, trying to spread awareness about the Serpentine attacks. People were dismissing those terrifying stories as just rumours or excuses for being irresponsible.
How could they be so blind?
I was bouncing around, feeling so alive, surrounded by people who shared my passion. The thrill of the rally wasn’t even the best part; we had plans after! Street food, market stalls, maybe even a visit to our favourite restaurant. It felt like a perfect day that would never end.
But then everything shattered.
Looking back now, I can hardly stand the thought of how carefree I was. The doctors told me it’s just Survivor’s Guilt, but it feels more like a heavy stone lodged in my throat, choking me with every breath. It sinks into my chest, squeezing my lungs until I can’t draw a normal breath, and weighs my stomach down until I don’t even want to eat or drink. The wait for the ninja felt eternal. By the time they arrived, every building in Central Ninjago City had been reduced to rubble, and broken hearts lay thick across the streets where kids like me had once played. The vivid memories of laughter and life were transformed into nightmares painted with blood.
All of it happened because of one choice. Just one. If only Mom, Dad, and I had decided to stay home, they’d still be alive. I wouldn’t be here, lost in an Adoption Centre, wondering if anyone would care enough to give me a home.
I wouldn’t have the constant reminder that I don’t deserve any love.
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I don’t even know who really saved Ninjago from the Great Devourer. Garmadon struck the final blow, but he used the ninja’s weapons. They saved us, yes, but it’s hard not to think it was Garmadon too. My therapist likes to think they all worked together, and maybe he’s right. I can’t hate the ninja after they stood up against that monstrosity.
Yet, it hurts so deeply.
My parents took the best part of me when they left, and now there’s a gaping hole inside where my heart used to be. And the ninja weren’t even there when I needed someone to help me pick up the pieces.
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I can’t help but think there’s someone out there with a story like mine. Her name is Harumi Azrael. I read about her in the Adoption Centre files, even though I know it’s a bit out there to be snooping around.
I mean, I’m here, for crying out loud. Someone else is going to try to step in and take my parents’ place? I won’t let that happen.
I WON’T!
Nothing ever really goes on at this place. A few kids get adopted each week if they’re lucky, and then it’s like they just vanish. But something incredible happened today. I met Harumi in person. She’s so much like me, with that haunted look in her eyes. I think we could really connect if I don’t mess things up.
I mean, what if I push her away like everyone else? It’s terrifying yet so inviting at the same time. She could be the friendship I’ve been looking for, but what if I’m not enough?
What if I end up losing her, too?
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“You know, Pae, it’s kind of wild how we became best friends in just a month! It’s like magic, isn’t it?” Harumi giggled, nudging me gently with her elbow, the playful energy radiating from her infectious laughter.
Her platinum blonde hair tumbled like sunlit waves, catching the light in a way that made it seem to shimmer with an ethereal glow. It framed her face perfectly, accentuating the sparkle in her bright blue eyes - eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets, all of them delightful.
I offered her a hesitant smile, my cheeks warming slightly, despite the slight annoyance that came with the absence of eyeliner; my eyes crinkled up in a way I couldn’t quite hide.
“You know,” I said, my voice trailing off as I took a moment to mimic her tone, adding a touch of exaggerated drama and sarcasm, “sometimes I really wonder how we didn’t end up as best friends sooner! It’s like the universe totally dropped the ball on us!”
The sound of her giggle was like a soft melody, and for a heartbeat, I tried to bury any self-consciousness about my eyeliner-less state. Her perfect, innocent smile had that frustratingly charming effect that made me feel both warmed and wistful all at once.
Typical Harumi - effortlessly adorable, managing to light up my darkest thoughts while her own worries swirled underneath the surface, buried perhaps a little too deep.
“Yeah! Maybe… wait for it… We were separated at birth!” she joked, her laughter bubbling up like a fresh spring. I could see the carefree spirit in her, blissfully unaware of the darker clouds that sometimes loomed above my head, overshadowing my thoughts. “Or maybe we were just too busy doing the ‘Who Can Survive Therapy the Longest?’ challenge.”
I snorted, my laughter breaking through momentarily. “Please, you know you won that challenge with flying colours. But for the ‘Haunted Look’ challenge? Mine is definitely a classic.”
“Heyyyyyy! Mine is honestly iconic!” She made a face, sticking her tongue out at me, channelling a juvenile spirit that I wished would rise more often.
“Hah! As if. Mine is a horror masterpiece. Yours is just the ‘Mildly Inconvenienced Blonde Girl,’ ” I shot back, the banter lighting the air between us.
We sat under a canopy of late afternoon light on the dusty old steps of the Adoption Centre, far removed from the serious vibes of the Great Devourer's mensiversary angst. The air around us carried a peculiar scent reminiscent of old socks and floor polish, an oddly comforting mix that somehow felt like home. It was a definite improvement to the musty pillows I wept into at night, pillows that absorbed not only my tears but also carried the weight of sleepless nights.
“So,” I said, nudging her playfully back, “any major plans for tonight? Besides, you know, conspiring to take over the world from the common room?”
“Well, I was thinking,” Harumi began, her eyes glinting with a mischievous spark that belied the lurking shadows of Survivor’s Guilt, “maybe we could sneak into the kitchen and check if Mrs Gable made those bizarre lumpy surprise muffins again. They’re basically free comedy!”
“Deal!” I grinned widely, feeling some of the heaviness in my throat dissipate, if only for a moment. Maybe the Garmadon versus Ninja debate could wait until after we filled our stomachs with questionable baked goods. “But if they taste like despair, you’re definitely eating mine.”
“Fair enough, Pae. Fair enough,” she replied with a mock-seriousness that made me laugh again.
For a moment, we slipped into a comfortable silence. The weight of everything - my parents, the relentless ache in my heart, the spectre of loss - slowly faded into the warmth of the afternoon sun. Sitting there with Harumi, her laughter wrapping around me like a comforting blanket, I felt a flicker of light breaking through the dark clouds, piercing the gloom that often threatened to engulf me.
Maybe, just maybe, the vacant space in my heart wasn’t going to be eternally hollow. With a sprinkle of friendship, a dash of goofy jokes, and a venture into muffin mischief by my side, perhaps I could patch up the heart-hole, filling it with something bright and hopeful.
Perhaps.
As the sky began to blush with the colours of sunset, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment might just be the beginning of something wonderfully transformative - a friendship glowing with the possibility of healing the scars we both carried.