Scene: Dareth's Dojo – Late Afternoon
The sun filtered through the high windows of the dojo, casting golden light across the floor as Kai unleashed another fiery spin-kick into a wooden training dummy. Flames trailed from his heel, singing the air before vanishing in a puff of steam. He landed, panting, brow furrowed.
Across from him, Jinx leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"Again," Jinx said flatly.
Kai groaned, wiping sweat from his brow. "Can we not just use the dummy this time?" He pointed toward a half-charred training model. "I think I've scared that one into early retirement."
"No weapon. No shortcuts," Jinx replied, his voice low but firm. "You asked me to teach you how to wield fire without your sword. That means you earn it."
Kai exhaled sharply and nodded. "Right. Right." He centered himself, closed his eyes, and tried again—reaching for the fire within, not the kind summoned by a blade.
Moments passed. The room was quiet save for the gentle creak of floorboards beneath Kai's steps.
Then, Kai stopped.
"…Hey," he said suddenly, turning toward Jinx. "Why do you pick on me so much?"
Jinx blinked. The question was too casual for how heavy it felt in the air.
"…What?"
"You heard me." Kai stepped closer, folding his arms. "You always single me out. You make me run extra laps, throw me farther than the others during sparring, you even laugh when I fall on my face. What gives?"
Jinx looked away. "Focus on your training."
"No. Not this time." Kai stood his ground. "You owe me an answer."
There was a long silence.
Finally, Jinx's jaw tightened. "Because…" His voice cracked like thunder. "Because you remind me of my little brother!"
The dojo went still.
Even the faint hum of the street outside seemed to vanish.
Kai's arms slowly lowered. "Wait…" he said, his voice soft. "I didn't know you had siblings."
Jinx didn't meet his eyes. He tilted his head back slightly, and for a moment, he looked distant—hollowed out by memory.
Then a single tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
Kai took a step back in alarm.
The tear wasn't clear.
It was black.
"I didn't have a blood brother," Jinx said quietly. "Not then. But… there was this kid at the orphanage."
He paused, breathing deeply, like the memory was a weight he rarely lifted.
"I was different. Born… wrong, they said. Black blood. Black tears. Kids were terrified of me. They called me names. Said I was cursed. Even the caretakers whispered behind my back."
Kai didn't speak. He didn't dare.
"But one boy," Jinx went on, "he didn't care. He was dumb as a pile of bricks, but he was kind. Brave in his own way. He made people laugh—even when they were crying. He reminded me of you."
Jinx chuckled bitterly, then clenched his fist.
"But not everyone liked him either. And like an idiot, he tried to fight back." His voice trembled, barely controlled. "They bullied him. They beat him. And one day… they killed him."
The dojo seemed to hold its breath.
"I lost control. Fire, shadow, wind—I destroyed the orphanage. But I made sure no one else got hurt. Just the ones who… did it."
Kai swallowed hard. "Jinx…"
"I know I have a real brother," Jinx whispered, eyes far away. "Somewhere. I don't know his name. I don't even remember my mother's face. But I remember how she held me. How her love felt." He placed a hand on his chest. "It's the only thing I remember before they took me away."
For a long time, neither of them said a word.
Kai stepped forward slowly, placing a hand on Jinx's shoulder. "Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Jinx gave a shaky breath, and for the first time, the edge in his voice softened. "You weren't supposed to."
Kai managed a crooked smile. "You know, if you ever find that real brother of yours… I hope he's ready. You're kind of a handful."
Jinx chuckled—a real one this time. "You'd be surprised. He might be a bigger idiot than you."
They both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet dojo like sunlight cutting through storm clouds.
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The sky was painted in strokes of orange and purple as the last rays of sunlight bled across the horizon. Out on a wide clearing behind Dareth's dojo, scattered metal parts glinted in the evening light. Something large was taking shape—part machine, part sculpture. From a distance, it resembled the rough silhouette of a dragon—but no one had called it that yet.
Zane held a fusion torch in one hand, welding together two wing-shaped panels. Sparks danced across his visor, but he worked with precise, delicate control. Across from him, Jinx stood with a curved strip of alloy over his shoulder, inspecting it like a blade.
"You sure this will fly?" Zane asked calmly.
Jinx gave a slight shrug. "If not, we just call it art and pretend we meant it that way."
Zane smiled faintly. Then, after a pause, he spoke again.
"Did you ever know your parents?"
Jinx froze mid-step, the piece of metal still resting on his shoulder. He didn't look up.
"No."
Zane stopped welding. "…I see. I've been thinking about my father lately. About whether… he loved me."
There was a silence. One the wind didn't dare disturb.
Jinx slowly turned, expression unreadable, the metal still in his grip. "Why are you asking that?"
Zane's eyes stayed fixed on the half-built structure. "I remember him teaching me things. Sitting beside me while I played. But I also remember being alone. For so long. It's… hard to tell which moments were real. Or if the love I remember was something I made up to comfort myself."
Jinx's hand tightened on the metal until it creaked.
"Stop," he said sharply, voice low but cutting. "Don't fall down that path. It'll eat you alive."
Zane looked up. "You say that like you've been there."
Jinx exhaled, setting the metal piece down beside him. His gaze drifted to the horizon, eyes distant.
"Before I found Silence, I spent years wandering Ninjago," he said softly. "Every town. Every city. Every forgotten village. Looking for even a sliver of her."
"Your mother?" Zane asked.
Jinx nodded. "I didn't know her name. Or her face. Not even her voice. But I remembered how it felt—her love. That warmth. That safety. I was addicted to it. Chased it like it was oxygen. Thought if I could find her… or even just her grave… maybe the ache in my chest would stop."
He crouched beside a long steel beam and began etching marks into it—symbols, words, perhaps just quiet thoughts made permanent.
"But five years passed," Jinx continued. "And I found nothing. Not even a whisper. The obsession didn't go away. It got worse. I'd wake up in the middle of the night thinking I saw her in a crowd. But being a ninja… it helped. Gave me something else to fight for. But…"
He looked over at Zane.
"…If I had the chance to see her. Even once. I'd give anything."
Zane didn't speak for a while. The dragon frame above them creaked as the wind moved through it gently, like breath.
Finally, Jinx straightened, brushing his hands off and walking toward Zane. "So if you remember him dancing with you," he said quietly, "then he danced with you."
"If he laughed, then he laughed."
"No hidden meanings. No secret motives. Just a father loving his son."
Zane looked at him, and though his face was often unreadable to others, something softened in his eyes.
"…Thank you," he said.
Jinx smirked, though his voice was a little hoarse. "Don't mention it. Just don't go welding your face off again, yeah?"
The two of them turned back to the work in front of them. The dragon structure, incomplete but proud, stood under the growing stars like a monument to memory, longing—and maybe, hope.