Chapter Text
Many people have heard the story of how Ninjago came to be. Long before time had a name- so on and so forth. But one detail many people don’t know is that when the First Spinjitsu Master came to Ninjago, he was followed. Followed by an Oni sent to watch over the half-pup that was so rebellious he not only left the protection of the Oni, but also created his own realm to govern separated from the First Realm.
The Oni who followed the First Master was tasked with tracking his movements and attempting to get him to come back and join the pack in the First Realm once more. But upon beginning their journey, the Oni realized that her mission was pointless.
The half-pup wasn’t doing anything wrong, in fact, he was creating new lives and opportunities for creatures she wouldn’t have thought twice about. It was all kind of beautiful. Well, in a strange sort of short-lived way that is. Like a sunset or snowflakes. Inconsequential but special.
Since the Oni didn’t think the half-pup’s realm would last long, she decided to stick around and witness its full glory, however short-lived it may be. She made her presence known to the half-pup, and they quickly became friends.
He took to calling her Mystaké, though she had no idea where that name came from. Perhaps it’s derived from his peoples’ language? She was happy to live in the realm of his creation, cultivating special teas and potions for his people to enjoy (with limitations of course).
Mystaké was there when the half-pup’s sons were born, their names being “Garmadon” and “Wu”, which she thought were curious choices considering their almost parallel distinctness.
She was there to help when one of the boys, Garmadon, got bitten by the Great Devourer. The potions, teas, and elixirs she brewed could help slow the progression of the poison, but it still hurt her a little to see her close friend so devastated by the knowledge that his son would never be able to escape his new fate.
She was there for her friend’s funeral after he fought the Overlord. Mystaké honestly wasn’t aware that he could die, not with two near immortal creatures being his sources of DNA. He could create worlds, land, life from nothing but his own will. But he couldn’t survive one fight against the incarnation of evil? Mystaké thought it was almost morbidly funny.
His sons both cried for days. Garmadon had brought his newly-wed wife, “Misako”, to the funeral, whom Mystaké deemed “nice enough”, and Wu was placed in charge of the Golden Weapons as part of his father’s will.
Mystaké had seen thousands of years go by in this realm-which was longer than she’d thought it would last- and so far, all the events that had taken place were insignificant. Not because they were unimportant, or emotionally void of meaning, but simply because her prolonged lifespan gave her a more realized sense of time and memory.
Not wanting to go back to the First Realm after so spectacularly failing her mission at bringing the half-pup back, she remained in his realm. She ran her small tea shop in the ever growing city at the heart of the land he created, serving the people he watched over as they went about their trivial lives.
That was however, until one particularly stormy January night when Mystaké heard knocking on the door of her small tea shop where she kept and sold all her foreign and magical blends. She assumed it was a customer in desperate need of one of her “special blends”, since nobody in their right mind would trek through the rain and freezing wind just for some Earl Grey.
But when she opened the door, all she saw was….a baby carrier? Upon closer inspection, the newfangled looking baby carrier (the kind she hated with the polyester sun hood and obnoxiously large plastic handle) did actually contain a baby. An infant actually. A rather odd looking infant, with a note attached to his blanket. The note read as follows:
“I am sure I will live to regret my actions one day. But I must ask that you take care of my son in my place. I remember meeting you once at my father-in-law’s funeral, and the words my dear husband said about you and your work. With this knowledge, I felt that you might be the only person qualified to raise my son while I look for a way to save him. So please, care for Lloyd with all the love I won’t be able to give him.”
-Misako Montgomery
Well, if that wasn’t the vaguest possible thing someone who just dropped a baby on your porch could say, Mystaké didn’t know what else could possibly be said.
Mystaké, conducting her secondary appraisal on the baby- Lloyd- and her memory connecting the name Misako to the funeral she must be referring to in the letter, instantly came to the conclusion that this child (pup?) was absolutely her dear departed friend’s descendant.
He looked just like her late friend. He had his deep red eyes, long pointed ears, small claws, and sharp teeth. To top it all off, he also possessed the trifecta of traits her friend once had to hide from his people: a short pair of bumps protruding from the crown of his head that would one day become horns, a tail that curled around his small body protectively, and a furled set of wings on his back that he likely wouldn’t have too much control over until he was a bit older. All the traits he would need to learn to shapeshift away if he ever wanted to fit in with the humans.
Mystaké pitied the-… oh geez this was the First Spinjitsu Master argument all over again, was it a human child or a pup? Or was it a hatchling? She’ll just call it a pup. Firstbourne knows the thing isn’t passing as a human as things currently stand.
Anyways, she pitied it’s situation, with his father being currently banished to the Underworld (it was Garmadon’s son, right?) and his mother being who knows where. Plus, he looked rather upset. Sobs began racking his new lungs and flushing his soft face. Was he hungry? What did quarter-Oni pups eat? Where would she get his food? Oh whatever. She took the baby out of its annoyingly manmade carrier and into the warmth of the tea shop.
“Whatever you are, you definitely don’t deserve to lay out in the cold all night.” she whispered as the baby started to calm down, nuzzling in her maroon knit sweater that she had made out of boredom the week prior.