At the base of the pyramid, the Serpentine slithered across the dusty stone floor, their eyes keen and focused on their mission. The Constrictai Fangblade was close—just ahead, they could feel it, smell it, taste the victory almost within reach. But then, abruptly, Pythor halted, his serpentine body stiffening in the midst of his slithering.
Skales, who had been trailing too closely behind, bumped into Pythor's immobile form with a grunt. His gaze flicked from Pythor's tail to his head, his scales gleaming with irritation.
"Ugh. Why musssst we sssstop if the next Fangblade is just ahead of ussss?" Skales hissed, his voice thick with annoyance.
Pythor turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he raised his staff with a deliberate motion. "What good is unlocking the Great Devourer with the four Fangblades, if we're not around to see it?" he growled. His staff slammed into the floor, and the stone beneath them began to crumble, disintegrating like dust in the wind. "Get the boy!"
Skales' eyes lit up with understanding, a sly smile curling his lips. "Bring the boy!"
Two of the Serpentine, swift and efficient, moved to where Lloyd was chained, their venomous hisses filling the air as they released him from his bonds.
Lloyd blinked in confusion, his arms still sore from the chains that had bound him so tightly. "Oh, you're letting me go?" he asked, his voice incredulous, the unease in his chest growing.
Pythor chuckled darkly, his voice smooth as silk. "Heh, only to fetch, my dear boy. Do step lightly." With a flick of his tail, he motioned for Lloyd to follow as he slithered toward the edge of the narrow ledge. "We wouldn't want you to fall now, would we?"
Lloyd hesitated, but the pressure from the Serpentine behind him urged him forward. With each step, the ground seemed to drop away beneath him. He could feel the emptiness below and the dangerous traps that might be lying in wait.
Suddenly, he stepped wrong.
The ground beneath him shifted, and with a startled scream, he pitched forward, arms flailing as he scrambled to keep his balance. His heart raced, his body on the verge of panic.
"Whoa!" he gasped, his voice tight with fear, but with sheer determination, he managed to avoid a deadly trap just inches from his feet. The ledge seemed to swallow him, yet he found his footing, narrowly escaping the fate that had awaited him.
He scrambled forward, breathless, and looked up toward the pedestal. The precious Fangblade, the object of their endless pursuit, should have been there. But it wasn't.
Lloyd blinked, disbelief creeping into his voice. "It's gone!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing in the hollow chamber.
Pythor's expression shifted from smug confidence to a grimace of rage. "It's gone!?" he spat, his voice thick with frustration. His grip on his staff tightened, the veins in his face popping with fury.
Skales hissed, his tongue flicking out as he scanned the room, his eyes wild with panic. "Where issss it?" he demanded, the serpentine growl in his throat rising with every word.
Lloyd, sweat slick on his brow, couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, tinged with exhaustion. "Do I still get to be freed?" he asked, his voice a mix of hope and sarcasm.
Pythor's eyes locked onto him, sharp and cold. "No!" he snarled, his voice low and lethal.
Lloyd groaned in frustration. "Ugh!" He was beginning to feel the weight of the Serpentine's wrath, knowing full well the situation wasn't going to end well for him either way.
The Destiny's Bounty hummed with an air of tension, the ninja gathered around a holographic display of the Constrictai Fangblade. They were in a race against time, trying to figure out how to stop Pythor from unleashing the Great Devourer. The situation was dire, and every second counted.
Nya's eyes scanned the projection, her brow furrowed in concentration. "They got the first one, but there are three more. We just need one to stop Pythor. They have a map, and we don't. The question remains—how are we gonna find them first?"
Jay leaned back in his seat, still trying to process something that had been gnawing at him. "I still can't get over the fact that you were the mysterious Samurai. Is anyone else blown away like I am?"
Kai, with his usual impatient tone, crossed his arms. "We're over that. Can we move on?"
Jinx, lounging nearby with his usual nonchalance, smirked. "Yeah, plus if you guys paid attention, you would've figured it out much sooner."
Jay, raising an eyebrow, couldn't help but tease, "You say that, Jinx, but you didn't know like the rest of us!"
Jinx's smirk deepened as he turned to Jay. "Actually, I did. When the Samurai first showed up, you could tell from her being more secretive about her room, or how she was sweating every time we saw her. Or the most obvious one for you boneheads—how she always flinches when it's brought up."
Zane, who had been unusually quiet, nodded slowly. "Now that you mention it, I did notice... but I thought it was a gi."
Before anyone could react, Jinx placed a hand over Zane's mouth and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Not in front of the lady," he muttered, and Zane nodded earnestly.
Jay burst into laughter, his voice high-pitched with amusement. "Someone's a little hot under the collar!"
Zane, with his usual calm, glanced over at Jay. "It appears his impatience is because he has not found inner peace and unlocked his full potential, like you and I have, Jay."
Kai rolled his eyes dramatically. "Great observation, Mr. Roboto, but Cole hasn't found it either."
At that, Cole sat up straighter, a look of determination lighting up his face. "I got it!" he exclaimed.
Kai shot him a skeptical look. "You've unlocked it? Oh, why am I the only one!?"
Jinx, eyes gleaming with mischief, tossed in a comment. "Did ya forget me?"
Cole ignored the jab, flipping through his photo album as he spoke. "No, I figured out where I recognized the Fangblade from. I have a picture of it!" He stood and hurried over to the desk, rummaging through his belongings to retrieve the photo.
Kai raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, haha, is that it? Heh. Good."
Cole returned to the group, holding up the image triumphantly. "I got it!" he announced again, showing them a photo of a gleaming silver trophy. "The Blade Cup!"
Jay blinked. "That's it!"
Cole nodded eagerly. "Back where I grew up, there's this pretty big competition where every year, the winner gets the Blade Cup. My dad's won it multiple times."
Zane raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You never told us your dad was an accomplished athlete. What sport?"
Cole hesitated for a moment, then sighed, realizing there was no easy way around the truth. "Oh, h-he's a... uh... blacksmith."
Kai chuckled. "Nothing wrong with that. My father was a blacksmith, too. But I've never heard of a competition—"
Cole cut him off. "That's because he's not a 'blacksmith' blacksmith. He's a... Royal Blacksmith." He turned the page of his album and revealed a picture of a man in formal attire, a proud gleam in his eye.
Everyone looked at the photo, then at each other, stifling their chuckles. Jay was the first to break the silence. "That's your dad?"
Jinx leaned forward slightly, inspecting the photo. "He looks dedicated. I like it."
Cole's face flushed a deep shade of red, but no one noticed, as the ninja's attention was still on the image.
Kai tilted his head, still processing the new revelation. "But how did the Fangblade become a trophy?"
Cole shrugged. "Well, supposedly, the Blade Cup was made by this guy who collected priceless artifacts. His name was something like, uh, Dutch... no, Clutch. Clutch Powers! Anyway, it gets passed on to each year's winner."
Zane raised his hand. "Who has it now?"
Cole hesitated again, then lowered his gaze. "I don't know. I haven't talked to my father in years."
Kai furrowed his brow, his voice laced with concern. "Well then, we'll call him up."
Cole looked at him, exasperated. "You can't! He thinks I'm in Ninjago City, training at the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts." He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "He wanted me to follow in his footsteps. But when I couldn't sing or dance, well... I ran away. When he sees I can't dance, he'll know I've been lying in all the letters I've been sending him."
Jinx raised an eyebrow, his voice tinged with something close to amusement. "Oh, I remember going to that school."
Cole looked at him, confused. "Wait, you went there?"
Jinx shrugged, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Yeah, when I was homeless at ten, a professor saw me singing one day when I was bored and enrolled me. I graduated after four years."
The ninja exchanged surprised glances. It was the first time they'd heard this part of Jinx's backstory, and the revelation seemed to settle into the air with a quiet weight.
Zane, ever the curious one, spoke up. "He doesn't know you're a ninja?"
Cole chuckled bitterly, trying to lighten the mood. "What? You gonna crack some joke about my old man wearing a tutu?"
Kai snorted but shook his head. "No, but if we're going to have any chance at getting that Fangblade before they do, we better get our own act in tune."
The wind howled as Garmadon and Wu ascended the jagged peaks of the mountain, each step bringing them closer to the elusive summit. The sky was still dark, the faintest glimmer of moonlight casting eerie shadows over the rugged terrain.
Garmadon's gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, his expression hardened with urgency. "I had hoped to reach the summit before the moon has risen," he muttered, voice low but tense. "The Craglings never miss a midnight snack."
Wu, his younger brother, raised an eyebrow, his steps faltering slightly as he tried to make sense of Garmadon's words. "Craglings? What is this place? There's no such thing in Ninjago."
Garmadon's eyes flickered briefly to his brother, a shadow of something old and familiar passing between them. "They're a horde unlike any you've seen," he replied cryptically. "Not all places exist to be found, brother. Sometimes, one must revel in the shadows to truly see the light."
The ground beneath them began to tremble as stones cracked and shifted. From the darkness, jagged rocks began to gather together, forming grotesque, twisted shapes. The Craglings emerged—creatures of stone and fury, their eyes glowing a fierce orange as they surged toward the brothers.
Wu barely had time to react before the first Cragling lunged at him, its stone claws raking the air. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the strike, but before he could retaliate, a second Cragling pinned him to the ground, its weight crushing him beneath its rocky form.
"Wu!" Garmadon shouted, his voice sharp with concern. He leaped into action, his staff crashing into the first Cragling with a force that shattered it into rubble.
"Watch out, brother!" he shouted again, swinging his staff at another Cragling that was creeping up behind Wu. With a swift strike, he obliterated the creature, sending pieces of stone flying.
Wu pushed himself up from the ground, brushing dust and debris from his robes as he regained his footing. His eyes met Garmadon's, the faintest hint of gratitude flashing in his gaze. "Thanks. Just like old times?"
Garmadon's lips curled into a rare, fleeting smile, his dark eyes glinting with the bond they shared. "Just like old times."
The brothers stood side by side, their backs to each other as the Craglings circled around them, snarling and growling in hunger. Garmadon gave a sharp nod, and Wu, understanding, nodded in return.
"Ready, brother?" Garmadon asked, his tone steady, as if nothing had changed.
Wu grinned, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Always."
Together, the two brothers shouted in unison, their voices ringing out as they unleashed their power.
"Ninja, go!"
In an explosion of speed and energy, Garmadon and Wu spun in perfect harmony, their bodies whirling as they activated their Spinjitzu. The wind whipped around them, the swirling vortex of energy cutting through the Craglings with blinding force. Rocks shattered, and the creatures howled in fury, but it was no use. The Craglings were no match for the brothers' combined might.
The brothers fought as one, their bond stronger than ever, even as the shadows of the Realm of Madness pressed in around them.
The Destiny's Bounty soared through the sky as the ninja gathered near the edge, ready for their descent. The wind howled around them, and the sea below churned, but their focus was sharp.
Kai's voice broke the tension. "Woo-hoo!" he shouted, spinning in the air as he leapt off the ship.
"Yeah, wooo!" Jay cheered, following suit, his body twisting with excitement.
With a burst of golden energy, the ninja summoned their Golden Weapons, their signature tools, to land safely. The Bounty, high above them, began to drift into the distance as they touched down lightly on the ground.
Cole smirked, a case of instruments in hand. "Alright, hand them over," he said, eyeing the others with a knowing look.
Jay, grinning mischievously, shook his head. "Ah-uh. But no mortal shall possess all four." He laughed, his voice dripping with theatrics before he tossed over the Nunchucks of Lightning.
Cole rolled his eyes. "Very funny."
Kai clapped him on the back. "You wanna remind me again why we can't keep our weapons?" he asked, handing Cole his own weapon along with Zane's.
Jinx, who had been unusually quiet, stepped forward, his tone a bit more serious. "Careful not to touch this," he warned, sheathing his katana in the case. "Or you'll go mad."
Cole raised an eyebrow but didn't press the matter further. "I told you, my dad can't find out I'm a ninja," he said, exasperated. "I don't feel like making up excuses as to why I'm carrying a giant scythe around with me." He knocked on the door of Lou's home.
Inside, a voice grumbled from the other side. "Just a moment," Lou called. A few moments later, the door creaked open.
Cole smiled weakly. "Hey, Dad. How long's it been?"
Lou's stern face appeared in the doorway. "What? You too good for the doorbell?!" he snapped, slamming the door in Cole's face.
"Uh..." Cole blinked, caught off guard.
"Use the bell, son," Lou called from behind the door.
Cole groaned but complied, reaching up to press the doorbell. It chimed, and suddenly, the door swung open again.
"Ha, come on in, son," Lou said, his gruff tone softening as he smiled warmly. "It's been forever! What did you bring? A quartet? Come in, come in. I've got a kettle of lemon honey tea on the stove right now."
Inside, a gramophone played gentle, old-fashioned music. The familiar smell of tea filled the air, but Cole could only manage a long sigh as he sank into a chair.
Lou sat down beside him, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Did my son tell you I broke my foot? It was the cha-cha, but I swear that percussionist had it in for me."
Cole's face contorted in disbelief. "No, Dad. I didn't tell them about your silly stories."
"Silly stories?" Lou looked at him incredulously.
Kai, clearly struggling to come up with something, jumped in. "Oh, what he meant was... we've been busy training at the... uh..."
Jay jumped in to save face. "Uh, the Martha Oppenheimer. Yeah."
The music from the gramophone suddenly screeched to a halt. Lou's eyes widened, narrowing suspiciously. "Martha Oppenheimer?"
Jinx sighed, rolling his eyes. "Excuse my dumb friend. What he's trying to say is the Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts."
"Right!" Cole added quickly, eager to redirect the conversation. "Well, um, see, we have this final research paper we're doing on the history of Ninjago talent, and what we really wanted to know was how we can get our hands on the Blade Cup."
Lou's face twisted into an exaggerated look of disbelief. "You're talking about getting your hands on the Blade Cup? The most prized and heavily guarded award in all of Ninjago, the symbol of excellence in harmony and grace?" He paused for dramatic effect, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. "You can't just get it. You have to earn it. You have to exhibit style. Perfect pitch. Push the boundaries of artistic license and..."
The room fell silent for a moment, until Lou suddenly exclaimed, "And win this year's Ninjago Talent Show!"
Zane, who had been quiet until now, leaned in. "Um, perhaps there's an easier way?"
Lou's face lit up with realization, his expression more pleased than ever. "Is this why you came?" he asked, grinning ear to ear. "You knew I was injured and when my quartet insisted we shan't go on, you four have come to take our place!" He clapped his hands together. "Haha, ingenious! My son, bringing forth the next evolution of the Royal Blacksmiths!" He placed his hands on his heart. "Let me hear the sweet, sweet sound of harmony."
The ninja exchanged confused glances, unsure how to proceed. But then, reluctantly, they all stood up and began to sing together, each one trying to contribute despite the awkwardness.
"Harmony..." Jay muttered under his breath, a nervous smile spreading across his face.
"Harmony…" Zane echoed, in his usual deadpan style.
"Harmony…" Kai chimed in, sounding more like he was asking a question than making a statement.
"Harmony," Jinx finished, his voice soft but undeniably smooth.
When Jinx sang, it was like the sound of an angel's voice, pure and resonant, complemented by his finely tuned feminine tone. The sound wrapped around the room like a delicate breeze, causing Lou to clap with delight. A tear slipped down his cheek, his eyes wide with admiration.
"Bravo! Bravo! Young woman"Lou exclaimed, wiping his eye dramatically. "Your voice is like a voice from heaven!"
He jumped up and shook Jinx's hand, but Jinx, suddenly embarrassed, stammered, "Um, sir, my name's Jinx, and I'm a guy."
Lou, not at all fazed, waved a dismissive hand. "What does it matter?" he said. "With a voice like yours, you could be big, kid! I assume you're in the same class?"
Jinx hesitated before answering, "Actually, I graduated a year ago. I just met these guys by chance."
Lou gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "But... but Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts is a seven-year school! You're a genius!"
Cole, clearly growing impatient, cut in. "Look, Dad. We just need the trophy."
Kai nodded, trying to steer the conversation. "Yeah, we're bringing home the gold. And—and we want you to train us."
Lou sniffled dramatically. "I've never been more proud!" he said, wiping his eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I need to write a song about my feelings."
Cole shook his head in frustration. "What are you doing?"
Kai groaned, his hands held up in surrender. "Look, we enter this competition so we can get close enough to the Blade Cup. Once we get the Fangblade, we leave town. How hard can this be?"
The warm glow of Ninjago's bustling streets contrasted sharply with the serious whispers of two Serpentine as they slithered through the crowd. Mezmo, always eager for trouble, caught sight of something that made him stop in his tracks.
"Hey, get a load of that!" Mezmo pointed excitedly to a brightly colored poster pinned to a nearby lamppost. His companion, Snike, looked over at it lazily.
"Oh, look. A ssssinging competition. I like ssssinging," Snike hissed, tapping his foot to an imaginary rhythm.
Mezmo scowled and jabbed a clawed finger at the poster. "No, you idiot! The trophy! It's the Fangblade."
Snike blinked. "Wait, that's what Pythor'ssss looking for?"
Mezmo's eyes gleamed. "We have to tell the others," he said, snatching the poster and crumpling it up as he turned. His mind raced with ideas. The Fangblade—the key to ultimate power—was within their reach. They'd just have to outsmart the others first.
Back at Lou's home, the air was filled with the sounds of a piano, the sharp tapping of feet, and the occasional grunt of frustration. The Ninja were hard at work, but it was clear that their practice session was more challenging than expected.
"Okay, from the top! Five, six, seven, eight!" Lou's cane tapped rhythmically on the floor as he played the piano.
Kai, brimming with energy, flung his arms out dramatically. "Bop till you drop!"
Jay joined in with equal enthusiasm. "Shake it till you break it!"
Zane, as stiff and precise as ever, joined in, "Move it till you lose it."
And Cole, clearly less than thrilled with his task, added, "Spin it till you win it."
The piano music halted abruptly. Lou's face twisted with frustration as he dropped his hands from the keys. "Stop, stop! Ugh. If my ears weren't attached to my head, they'd be running away!"
Kai yelped as Lou tapped him sharply with his cane. "Kai, love the energy, hate the hair."
"Aah!" Kai rubbed his head, clearly annoyed but trying to keep a good attitude.
"Jay, you're giving me a lot, but I need more! Zane, you're like a machine. Don't change a thing." Zane gave a smug smirk, proud of his unchanging precision.
"And Cole—" Lou's eyes narrowed at his son. "Try to act like you actually want to be here."
Jay leaned toward Cole and whispered, "He's worse than Sensei Wu."
Cole shot him a sideways glance, but Lou wasn't finished. "Alright, moving forward. Let's take a look at the big show-stopping climax. Cole, we can't have history repeating itself."
Cole winced. "Dad, it was the Triple Tiger Sashay. I was seven."
"The what?" Kai looked confused.
"The Triple Tiger Sashay," Cole muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment. "Only the most difficult dance move ever created."
Lou nodded solemnly. "It's true. Many professionals have dared try, but it's never been successfully completed."
Cole sighed. "But my father thought a seven-year-old could do it! I ended up falling on my face, humiliating myself, and letting my quartet down."
Lou raised his cane as if about to say something, but then let it drop. "If you're going to win, you have to go big! Alright, time for a break. Take five—except for you, Jinx. I need you for this song. I want you to sing."
The Ninja exchanged curious looks, and Jinx, ever the calm one, nodded. He followed Lou to a corner of the room where the grand piano sat. The others took their leave, still muttering under their breath about Lou's intense training methods. Cole stayed behind a little longer, mulling over his father's words.
Jay looked at him with a teasing grin. "Uh, I'm starting to see why you're so closed off. Your twinkle-toes old man couldn't deliver the goods, huh? Is that why you ran away?"
Cole turned to face him, frustration flashing in his eyes. "Oh, I could deliver the goods. I'll deal with my father. But let's stick to the plan. All we have to do is keep up this charade long enough to get our hands on the trophy."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Cole. I'm starting to think we can win this thing." He flashed a grin. "I mean, imagine us—rock stars."
Cole groaned. "Okay, okay. We'll stick to the plan. But remember, we're here for the Fangblade."
Meanwhile, Jinx sat in front of the piano, the weight of Lou's request heavy on his shoulders. Lou adjusted the piano bench and looked at Jinx with a gleam in his eye. "Alright, Jinx. Show me what you've got. I need a voice that can move mountains."
Jinx looked hesitant, but with a subtle nod, he placed his hand gently on the piano. A deep breath filled his chest, and when his voice finally came out, it was clear: it was nothing short of extraordinary. His voice was soft, but powerful—a rich, clear melody that seemed to carry the weight of emotions too deep for words. The notes flowed effortlessly, weaving through the air like a finely tuned harp, each note ethereal, crisp, and enchanting.
Lou cried again, but this time it was not tears of admiration—there was a sadness on his face, an emotion too complex to articulate.
Deep beneath the cobblestone streets of Lou's village, the foul stench of sewers mixed with the murmur of plotting voices. In the dim light, Skales and Pythor slithered cautiously along narrow passages, their bodies glistening with moisture.
"It'ssss here. I feel it," hissed Skales, his tongue flickering in anticipation.
Pythor's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the labyrinth of tunnels. "Calm down. There's no need to attract unwanted attention," he murmured, his tone low and measured.
Ahead of them, through a grated opening, the sounds of laughter and music spilled into the darkness. The duo peered through a broken manhole cover and saw, outside in the warm glow of twilight, the ninja in full practice mode. From their open space came the rhythmic chants:
"Bop till you drop!" cried Kai with exuberance.
"Shake it till you break it!" echoed Jay, his voice full of mischief.
"Move it till you lose it," intoned Zane, ever precise.
"Spin it till you win it," grumbled Cole, his tone betraying his reluctance.
Skales's eyes darted back and forth between the scene above and their hidden refuge. "Ugh, now there'ssss no chance to take it," he muttered, disappointment lacing his words.
Pythor, ever the patient schemer, gave a slow smile. "Patience. We're snakes, remember? They'll never see us coming." He paused, lifting a crumpled poster from the ground. Reading aloud with a mocking chuckle, he announced, "Open Audition." With that, the two slithered back down the manhole—until, in a flash of movement, Jinx emerged from the shadows above. At the sight of him, both Skales and Pythor turned pale, and in silent, urgent panic, they hurriedly replaced the lid. The brutal memories of their previous encounters with Jinx flashed unbidden in their minds, leaving them shaken and desperate to remain unseen.
Far above the village in the Realm of Madness, the atmosphere was equally turbulent. Amid crumbling stone and swirling dust, Garmadon and Wu had just vanquished the final Cragling. The echo of their battle still resonated as Garmadon pointed to a distant, ominous buff where a vortex shimmered in the moonlit sky.
"The vortex back to Ninjago is just over that buff. Please, you first," Garmadon offered with a sneer.
Wu hesitated, his eyes reflecting both defiance and sorrow. "Though we live in two different worlds, I still see good in your heart, brother."
Garmadon's expression hardened. "The battle between our worlds is inevitable. You put too much trust in me." In a swift, ruthless motion, he shoved Wu toward the vortex. Wu clutched the ledge desperately, his scream echoing into the abyss as Garmadon, laughing evilly, plunged after him. "I'm back, Ninjago!" Garmadon roared, his laughter mingling with the howling wind.
Back at the Concert Hall, the atmosphere was electric with anticipation. Inside the grand venue, an array of contestants rehearsed their acts—singing, beatboxing, juggling—while the ninja, now reluctant participants in this grand charade, perfected their routine. Under the glimmer of stage lights and the hum of backstage nerves, Cole led the practice with determined energy.
"Then kick ball change, barrel roll, barrel turn, and we all do the double wings—" he instructed, precise but with an edge of exasperation.
In the chaos that followed, Jay and Kai collided with a clatter.
"Ow! Dude, you gotta follow me," Jay grumbled, rubbing his arm.
"Follow you? You're two beats off," Kai retorted, his tone teasing yet admonishing.
Zane, ever the stickler for precision, interjected dryly, "Actually, 2.72 off the beat."
Cole raised his hands, trying to restore order. "Guys, guys! Let's not make this any harder than it needs to be. We stick to the plan—keep up the charade until the trophy's revealed. Once we steal the Blade Cup, we can argue all we want back home."
"But this is your hometown, Cole. Don't you want to try and win it?" Jay pressed, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.
Cole groaned, his voice heavy with resignation. "Ugh, the only dance step I wanna perform is called 'Get-me-out-of-this-nuthouse-and-let's-burn-these-memories-from-my-head.'"
Before they could exchange another word, Lou himself burst onto the scene. "What?" he demanded, his tone sharp as he surveyed the commotion.
Cole's heart sank. "Dad, I…" he began, but Lou's eyes cut him off. "You... you were going to steal it?"
With a heavy sigh, Cole continued, "Dad, I didn't mean for you to hear that, but—I'm glad you did. All these years, I haven't been training to be a singer or a dancer. I found something new that I'm really good at. Dad…" He paused, summoning his courage as he activated his Spinjitzu to transform his attire into a crisp gi. "I'm a Ninja. And the truth is, if we don't steal that Fangblade—no, Blade Cup—there are other people who will. Bad people. Serpentine. And we need it to save the world. I know how ridiculous this sounds, but I'm proud of who I am, and I want you to be proud of me, too."
Lou's face hardened with disappointment. "I can't be proud of any son who thinks stealing is right! And I'm not gonna wait around to watch you make a mockery of our family's legacy!" With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Cole to groan in defeat.
Kai tried to console him softly, "I'm sure he didn't mean that."
Jay added wryly, "Maybe if he saw you in action…"
Cole simply shook his head. "No, it's—it's okay," he muttered, though his eyes betrayed lingering regret.
From behind a tattered dressing room curtain, a group of poorly disguised Serpentine known as the Treble Makers emerged. Their rickety sign, reading "Treble Makers," hung askew on the door. The ninja, ever vigilant, peered from behind the curtain. In a moment of shocking revelation, they spotted Pythor seated at the judges' table, complete with a fake beard and an air of false authority.
"I can't help it if I offend anyone," Pythor declared, his tone a mix of bravado and feigned humility. "My only job here is to tell the truth."
One of the other judges squinted, "You don't look anything like your photo."
"Ah, sadly, but the camera adds a few pounds," Pythor chuckled. "I'm just happy to have the opportunity to judge this prestigious competition."
A voice boomed from within Pythor's stomach—Judge 3's muffled protest—"Wait a minute. I'm still here! He swallowed me! He's not a judge!" Gasps and murmurs rippled through the judging panel.
"Quiet!" Pythor snapped. "Or else I won't let you out."
With a resigned "My apologies" from Judge 3, the tension subsided as the Blade Cup was brought onto the stage.
"The Fangblade!" Pythor bellowed, though a judge quickly corrected him, "Uh, yeah—you mean the Blade Cup."
"Yes, yes. Whatever," Pythor muttered dismissively.
Kai's eyes narrowed. "It looks like we're not the only ones planning to steal the Blade Cup. Pythor's here."
Zane's calm tone belied his concern, "This complicates things."
Jay's voice hardened with resolve, "Then I say we make our move. We can't risk losing out again—I say we steal it."
Cole's determination shone through as he countered, "We're not gonna steal it. We're gonna win this competition—our way."
"All our way?" the ninjas echoed, uncertain but united.
From the far side of the stage, the Treble Makers launched into their act—a raucous, off-key rendition of an ancient tune:
"My poison lies over the ocean, my poison lies over the sea. My poison lies over the ocean, so bring back my poison to me!"
The Serpentine and Skulkin in the audience cheered uproariously, while the rest of the crowd booed their dissonance. In a twist of intimidation, Pythor coerced the judges to flip their score cards, inflating a mediocre 6 into a reluctant 9.
The announcer's voice boomed, "And last but not least, the Royal Blacksmiths—uh, hold on. Breaking news, there's been a switch. Taking the stage next is Spin Harmony!"
Cole's eyes flashed with determination. "If we're gonna do this, I want everyone to see who we are."
Zane's voice wavered with uncharacteristic excitement, "I have butterflies in my stomach!"
Jay teased, "Aww, come on. That's just nerves."
Zane, smiling, produced three fluttering butterflies from his panel. "See? It only elevates our team unity."
Cole's voice softened, filled with gratitude, "I'm glad you guys are my friends. Let's do the whip!"
All together they chanted in unison, "Ninja, go!"
At that moment, as the treble of music swelled through the hall, Pythor sneered, "Well, it looks like the last act is no longer performing. Haha, that means I can give this to the winners—"
Before his words could finish, the announcer cut in, "Ladies and gentlemen, Spin Harmony!"
The pulsing rhythm of "The Weekend Whip" burst forth, the crowd's cheers mingling with the beat:
"Jump up, kick back, whip around and spin. And then we jump back, do it again. Ninja, go! Ninja, go! Come on, come on, and do the Weekend Whip!"
In a dazzling display of acrobatics and martial prowess, Cole executed the fabled Triple Tiger Sashay on three bewildered Serpentine, imitating a tiger's growl as he landed each move with flawless precision.
Zane gasped, "The Triple Tiger Sashay!"
The audience erupted in cheers, all except the displeased Serpentine and their cronies. The judges' score cards flashed a perfect 10—except for Pythor's scathing 0. Amid a chorus of boos, Judge 3 managed to discreetly adjust his card, transforming Pythor's harsh zero into a triumphant 10. The crowd roared anew, their approval reverberating through the hall.
Pythor's voice trembled with fury, "What? Wait. I didn't write that!"
The announcer's voice rang out one final time, "It's almost a perfect score! But we have one more entry…"
All eyes turned to the stage as the spotlight revealed the final act. Stepping forward with a quiet confidence that belied the chaos of the competition, the stage welcomed the last performer. In a bold flourish of self-reinvention, Jinx took center stage under his new moniker—Nocturne Viper. The murmurs of anticipation swelled into a hushed silence, for everyone knew that when Nocturne Viper sang, the very air would tremble with the power of his voice.
Under the soft glow of the stage lights, Jinx stepped forward as if crossing the threshold into another world—a realm woven from memories and heartache. The murmur of the crowd faded into a reverent hush as he cleared his throat, his eyes distant and heavy with unshed sorrow. With trembling resolve, he began in a low, quivering tone:
"We were both young when I first saw you…"
At those first fragile notes, the world around him melted away. In his mind's eye, Jinx closed his eyes and a vivid flashback unfurled. He was transported to a warm summer evening—a memory almost too beautiful to recall. He saw himself standing on a sun-dappled balcony, the air heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine and the promise of youth. Lanterns twinkled like distant stars, and beneath the gentle caress of a summer breeze, elegant ball gowns swirled in time with the soft music drifting from a nearby party.
"I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I'm standin' there On a balcony in summer air…"
His voice, laden with wistfulness, carried the delicate picture of that long-ago night. Every note seemed to capture the innocence of first love—a love both pure and doomed by fate. Jinx's tone deepened as he sang of the glittering lights and the laughter that filled the evening, of a figure moving gracefully through the crowd. A gentle, almost imperceptible "Hello" had once been enough to send his heart aflutter.
"See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns. See you make your way through the crowd And say, 'Hello'…"
There was a pause—a breath caught between longing and regret—before the song pressed on, each word resonating like a bittersweet echo from a past he could never reclaim. His voice grew softer, almost pleading:
"Little did I know That you were Romeo, you were throwin' pebbles And my daddy said, 'Stay away from Juliet'…"
The melancholy in his tone sharpened as he recalled the sting of forbidden love and the warnings that had echoed around him like a dark refrain. The memory of a father's harsh words mingled with the sound of his own heart breaking on a cold, empty staircase. With every syllable, Jinx conveyed the deep ache of a love that was as ephemeral as it was unforgettable.
"And I was cryin' on the staircase, Beggin' you, 'Please don't go…'"
A sorrowful plea, raw and aching, spilled forth as his voice wavered. In that moment, the song became more than a recounting of youthful passion—it was a lament for lost innocence, for dreams shattered by the unyielding cruelty of fate. He sang of secret rendezvous in hidden gardens, of stolen moments under moonlit skies, where every whispered promise was both a defiance of the world and a surrender to the inevitable.
"Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone… I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run… You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess… It's a love story, baby, just say, 'Yes'…"
As the refrain soared, a palpable sorrow wove itself through Jinx's melody—a yearning for an escape from a world that had always sought to keep him apart from the one he loved. His voice, now thick with emotion, captured the fragility of hope and the weight of destiny. Each word, every note, resonated with a bittersweet tenderness, echoing the promise of a love that was as dangerous as it was beautiful.
"So I sneak out to the garden to see you, We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew… So close your eyes, Escape this town for a little while, oh oh…"
In that delicate moment, as the music swelled and his voice trembled on the verge of a tear, the auditorium became a sanctuary of shared memories. The song's narrative, with all its joys and sorrows, wove together the threads of hope and despair. It was as if Jinx's voice reached into the very souls of those watching, stirring long-forgotten emotions.
And then came the haunting bridge—a confession of loneliness and desperation:
"'Cause you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter, And my daddy said, 'Stay away from Juliet'… But you were everything to me… I was beggin' you, 'Please don't go…'"
As Jinx sang, his eyes glistened with a sadness that was both ancient and immediate—a sorrow born of countless losses and the pain of memories too precious to forget. The music wrapped around him like a shroud, each note a tear shed for what might have been.
"Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone… I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run… You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess… It's a love story, baby, just say, 'Yes'…"
For a long, heart-wrenching moment, time seemed to stand still. The entire audience was suspended in the fragile beauty of the song. Tears streamed down faces, and even the most hardened hearts softened beneath the weight of the melancholy melody.
Back in the crowd, Cole sat in a quiet corner, his gaze distant as the song enveloped him. He remembered a tender fragment of his childhood—a memory etched in his heart forever. He was just four years old, sitting on his parents' anniversary. His mother, with a gentle smile and a voice full of love, had sung this very song to his father. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy—a memory now tinged with the sharp sting of loss, for that day had also marked the last time he had heard her voice before she was taken from him.
Cole's eyes began to well up with tears as the notes echoed in his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of a love lost too soon. And he wasn't alone. Nearly every face in the audience bore the mark of the song's poignant power—98% of the listeners found themselves overwhelmed, their hearts both warmed and broken by the flood of memories, each one uniquely their own.
As the final chord lingered in the hushed silence of the hall, Jinx's voice faded into a soft whisper, leaving behind an echo of longing and grief. The stage, bathed in gentle light, seemed to hold its breath, as if reluctant to let go of the moment. In that lingering silence, the audience felt the profound truth of his words—a love story both timeless and tragic, a melody of hope and heartache that would resonate long after the performance had ended.
As the final note hung in the air, the audience remained frozen, caught in the emotional weight of Jinx's performance. It was as if the entire world had paused to mourn and remember, drawn into the depths of the song's sorrow. For a moment, everything was silent—an almost reverent stillness.
But then, something stirred. It was subtle at first, a rustling noise that seemed out of place in the otherwise hushed auditorium. The judges' table, typically unmoving in its formality, now became the focal point of unease.
Suddenly, the arm of the judge who had been previously 'eaten'—the one who had mysteriously vanished earlier in the competition—rose up from beneath the table with a grotesque, disturbing slowness. The crowd gasped as it emerged, the hand moving unnaturally, as though its very existence defied logic. It was pale, lifeless, its fingers stiff from a long, gruesome entrapment. And yet, with eerie precision, the hand stretched out toward the judge's scorecard, the jagged remnants of a once-lively human being now an instrument of bizarre judgment.
It was almost surreal—the moment played out like a twisted parody of an awards ceremony. As if by instinct, the severed hand moved with strange precision, reaching for the giant foam board that had remained blank for too long. With an unsettling click, the hand held up a massive number—20.
The entire room held its breath, a collective shudder creeping through the audience as they processed what had just happened.
The tension in the air was palpable, thick with disbelief and confusion. Was this some kind of joke? A sick twist meant to break the tension? Or was there something far darker at play in this twisted performance? The hand, devoid of any warmth or life, remained raised—its digits frozen in a display that could only be described as unsettling.
Jinx, standing at center stage, stared at the number with an unreadable expression. For a brief, fleeting moment, it seemed like even he might recoil, the shadows beneath his eyes flickering with a quiet, suppressed anger. His gaze never faltered, though. He stood tall, the emotion that had poured from him only moments ago still heavy in his chest, now mixing with something colder—something darker. A smile, thin and unsettling, tugged at the corner of his lips, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Well," Jinx said, his voice oddly composed, betraying none of the disquiet the audience was clearly feeling. "I guess I'll take that as a perfect score."
He allowed the silence to stretch, his words hanging in the air like a lingering aftertaste of something bitter. A perfect score. But for Jinx, there was nothing to celebrate in that number—nothing to find comfort in. The audience, still stunned, seemed paralyzed by the bizarre spectacle.
Somewhere in the back of the hall, Cole—his eyes still rimmed with tears—felt a chill crawl up his spine. There was something unsettling about the entire atmosphere now. He was caught between two worlds—the raw emotion of Jinx's performance and the grotesque, unnatural presence of the judge's dismembered hand.
"Who are you really?" Cole whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the overwhelming silence.
Jinx's performance had unlocked something in him—a connection to pain, to loss, to memories he didn't fully understand. But now, it felt like something darker was emerging. The odd, inexplicable events around the contest—the appearance of the hand, the twisted nature of the judging—seemed to hint at a deeper truth. Something was very wrong here, and Jinx was at the center of it all.
As the scene unfolded, the audience remained frozen, unsure of what to make of the display. Was this part of the act? Was Jinx pushing the boundaries of performance, or was there something more insidious happening beneath the surface? All they knew for sure was that, in the wake of the eerie moment, Jinx had secured the perfect score—and it was impossible to deny the haunting sense that something far darker was lingering just beyond the veil of the performance.
The lights flickered for a moment—just a brief flicker—and then everything returned to normal. The judge's arm, still holding up the perfect score, slowly descended back to the table, as if it had never moved at all. The audience, still reeling, was left to process the surreal moment that had just unfolded before them.
For Jinx, it was just another day in the twisted game he played so effortlessly. The perfect score was meaningless to him. The applause—loud, forceful, but somehow hollow—meant nothing in the face of the overwhelming darkness that threatened to engulf everything around him.
Announcer: "It's beyond perfect score! The winner of the Blade Cup is... Nocturne Viper!"
The words echoed through the arena, bouncing off the walls like an explosion. The crowd erupted into deafening applause, their cheers a mix of awe, confusion, and excitement. But through the madness, Jinx stood unmoving at the center of the stage, his expression unreadable, his eyes distant as he processed the moment in his own quiet way. The perfect score, the haunting presence of the judge's hand, the overwhelming emotions—none of it mattered to him. But as the lights flickered and the sound of applause faded into the background, something inside him stirred.
The trophy was handed to him, its gleaming blade almost taunting in its brilliance. The Blade Cup was a prize meant for heroes, for those who triumphed against impossible odds—but to Jinx, it felt like nothing more than a cold, lifeless relic.
As the crowd's cheer continued to echo, Jinx made his way backstage, the trophy held loosely in his hand. He didn't look back at the audience. The spotlight, the adoration, it all felt hollow—like a fleeting moment in a much bigger story that he wasn't ready to face.
Backstage, the familiar faces of his fellow ninjas were already waiting for him, their grins wide and full of pride.
"Nocturne Viper!" Kai greeted him with an enthusiastic fist bump, his fiery red eyes shining with respect. "That was insane! I mean, you didn't just win—you owned it out there."
Cole, wiping his eyes and trying to shake off the overwhelming emotions, gave a half-laugh. "I... I wasn't sure whether to cheer or cry, man. You got me all teary-eyed out there." He paused, eyeing the trophy in Jinx's hand. "This... this really proves you're a legend."
Zane, ever the stoic one, gave a rare smile, his icy blue eyes glinting with approval. "Impressive, Jinx. I must admit, I didn't expect the performance to be so... emotional. You've really set a new standard."
Lloyd, standing a little apart from the group, clasped his hands together. "You really made it your own, Jinx. This whole thing—it was like a different kind of victory. I don't think anyone will forget tonight."
Jinx looked around at his teammates, each one of them offering their praise in their own way, and for a moment, he let himself feel something. Gratitude? Maybe. Pride? Possibly. But still... something was missing. That gnawing feeling, the one that had always been there, was still with him—just beneath the surface.
He lifted the Blade Cup, its cold metal gleaming under the harsh lights of the backstage area, and without a word, he set it down on the nearby table. His fingers lingered on the edge, but he quickly pulled them away, his gaze drifting into the distance.
"Thanks," Jinx said, his voice low, almost hollow. He gave them a small, brief smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "But this... this doesn't feel like winning." He turned his attention to the rest of the group, but there was a strange detachment in his tone, like he was speaking from a place far removed from the moment they were sharing.
Nya, who had been quiet up until now, stepped forward, her gaze soft but understanding. "You gave everything out there, Jinx. But I think you know... sometimes, the battle you're fighting isn't just the one in front of you. Maybe it's something you can't even put into words."
Jinx's eyes flickered to hers, and for a brief, painful moment, the walls he'd built around himself seemed to crack. "Yeah," he whispered. "Maybe it's something I'm still trying to figure out."
The rest of the ninjas exchanged knowing looks, each of them aware that Jinx was a different kind of fighter—one who carried the weight of his own battles, hidden deep beneath the surface. The trophy might have been his, but the true prize was something far more elusive.
"You don't have to figure it out all at once," Kai said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We've got your back, man. Always."
And for the first time that night, Jinx felt a warmth—a fleeting sense of connection that he hadn't realized he needed. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Thanks," he said again, his voice steady. "I guess… I'm lucky to have you guys." He met their gazes one by one, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.
Lloyd looked around, his gaze softening. "We're a team, Jinx. Always."
As the noise of the backstage area buzzed around them, Jinx stood with his teammates, the Blade Cup now a symbol of something more than just victory. It was a reminder that, sometimes, the toughest battles weren't the ones fought in the arena—but the ones fought within.
And for Jinx, that battle was far from over.
The backstage hum of the arena was still buzzing from the aftermath of the Blade Cup's climactic performance. Jinx stood off to the side, silent, lost in thought as the cheers of the crowd faded into the background. But just as the excitement seemed to settle, a familiar voice called out across the room.
"Cole!"
Cole turned at the sound of his name, his breath catching in his throat. His father, Lou, stood at the entrance, his eyes filled with emotion.
"Dad?" Cole said, surprised.
Lou took a few steps forward, shaking his head in disbelief. "I saw it all, son. I saw it all."
Without hesitation, Cole closed the distance between them, and the two embraced tightly. For a moment, everything else—the lights, the tournament, the Serpentine's scheme—faded into the background.
Cole pulled back just enough to meet his father's gaze. "You… you saw me dance?" he asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.
Lou let out a chuckle, his voice warm. "More importantly, I saw you fight." His face grew serious. "Those Serpentine were up to no good, trying to steal the show, and I saw you stand up for what's right. I was wrong, Cole. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard to follow in my footsteps. Everyone is born with a special talent, something that's been waiting to come out. And you… you were born to be a ninja."
Cole's eyes widened. "You're not mad?!"
Lou smiled, placing a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "How can I be? My son's a hero."
The moment was perfect—almost too perfect. And then—
"Eh, sorry to interrupt your little family reunion..."
The voice was smooth, slithering with amusement. Lou's expression shifted to confusion as the old stagehand standing nearby reached up—and in one swift motion, ripped off his beard.
A collective gasp filled the room.
"It's me, Pythor."
Cole's fists clenched. "You couldn't fool us, Pythor!"
The Anacondrai general chuckled, his red eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I wasn't trying to. I just didn't want to miss our big showstopper."
Before the ninja could react, two burly Constrictai warriors appeared behind Pythor, pushing forward a large crate. With a single shove, they sent it careening into the stage equipment.
CRASH!
The heavy lights and rigging came tumbling down. Dust exploded into the air. Lou let out a sharp cry as the platform beneath him collapsed.
"Dad!" Cole shouted, leaping forward without hesitation.
He dived after his father, disappearing into the debris.
Pythor's laughter rang through the chaos as he clutched the Blade Cup in his scaly hands. "I'll be taking this!" he declared triumphantly before slipping into the shadows with his henchmen.
The other ninja scrambled back from the dust cloud, coughing.
Jay wiped at his eyes, squinting in horror. "They took the Fangblade!"
Kai's head snapped toward the wreckage. "Cole!"
The air was thick with dust, making it impossible to see through the rubble. But then—
A soft glow.
At first, it was faint, but then it intensified. The golden light pulsed from beneath the wreckage, and as the haze began to settle, the ninja saw it clearly.
Cole's scythe was glowing.
Zane's eyes narrowed, analyzing the scene with precision. "He found his True Potential."
A deep grunt echoed from beneath the debris. The rubble shifted—then lifted.
Cole pushed himself upward, his entire body radiating a golden energy. His muscles tensed, his hands gripping the shattered beams as though they weighed nothing. With a powerful heave, he hurled the debris aside as though it were weightless. The ground trembled beneath him.
Lou gasped, staring at his son in disbelief. "Wha—what? How did we survive that? Son?"
Zane stepped forward, nodding in understanding. "Cole has found his True Potential. His relationship with his father must have been holding him back."
Jay let out a breath, his eyes wide with awe. "He's… indestructible!"
Kai groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Ugh, great. So now I really am the only one who hasn't figured out my special power!"
The golden glow around Cole gradually faded, his body returning to normal. He stood there, breathing heavily, his arms aching from the power surge. His mind was still racing, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
"Is everyone alright?" he asked, his voice winded. "What just happened?"
Lou placed a trembling hand on Cole's shoulder, looking at him like he was seeing him for the first time. "We're all okay, son." His voice was thick with emotion. "And you… you are so much more than I ever realized."
As the ninja gathered around, Cole took a deep breath, a newfound strength settling within him. His True Potential had awakened.
And with it, so had something else.
A deeper understanding of who he was meant to be.
The warmth of Lou's home wrapped around the ninja like a comforting embrace. The lingering scent of freshly brewed tea filled the air as the group sat together, cups in hand, allowing themselves a rare moment of peace after the intense events of the Blade Cup.
Kai exhaled, leaning back against the cushions with a tired grin. "Oh, man."
"That was really cool," Jay chimed in at the same time.
Zane nodded, his tone analytical yet filled with quiet admiration. "You found your True Potential."
Cole took a sip of his tea, rolling his shoulders, still adjusting to the strange, newfound energy coursing through him. "Yeah, but all we need is one Fangblade, and there are still two left to find."
Jay sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. "I guess the scorecard now reads: Pythor—two Fangblades, ninja—zero."
Kai scoffed, setting his cup down. "Who knows? Maybe when I unlock my True Potential, I'll turn into the destined Green Ninja."
The second the words left Kai's mouth, the room shifted.
The air grew unnaturally heavy.
Before anyone could react, a dark, chilling chain materialized from thin air, snaking around Kai's throat.
SLAM!
In an instant, Kai was yanked from his seat and thrown violently against the wall. The impact shook the room, rattling the teacups on the table. A strangled gasp escaped him as he clawed at the chain constricting his neck.
Jinx stood at the other end of the room, his piercing dark purple eyes glowing ominously in the dim light.
The atmosphere turned suffocating. The shadows around him pulsed, as if alive, feeding off the tension.
Cole barely blinked at the spectacle, taking another sip of tea.
"Yeah, dream on."
Jay, shifting uncomfortably, chuckled nervously. "Ha, okay."
Kai struggled against the darkness holding him in place, his face flushed with irritation.
Cole smirked. "The only thing you're destined for is a more inflated ego."
At that, the chain vanished in a whisper of black mist, and Kai collapsed to the ground, coughing.
Jinx simply returned to his seat as if nothing had happened.
Lou, ever the collected host, shook his head in amusement before turning toward the wall. He held up a framed photograph of the ninja's victory at the tournament and, with a satisfied nod, hung it up with care.
"It may not be the trophy, but it sure will look good on my wall."
The sight of it brought a swell of warmth to Cole's chest.
"All right!" he cheered.
"Excellent," Zane added, approvingly.
"Awesome," Kai muttered, rubbing his sore neck.
"Nice," Jay chuckled, shooting a wary glance at Jinx before refocusing on the picture.
Lou turned to face them, his expression softening with sincerity. "As far as I'm concerned, you're all my family now."
A silence settled over the room, not awkward, but meaningful.
Cole smiled, nodding. "Yeah."
For the first time in a long while, he truly felt at home.