Warning: TRIGGER WARNINGS. Suicide.

When the World is Cold

(No One can Warm You)

Cold, that was all he ever felt.

"I promise you'll never go through that again."

Cold, and lies.

Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered anymore because the world was cold, emotionless. Nobody cared about him. He had been, in Aladdin's terms, a street rat.

He hid himself away, away from people. He lived in the cold darkness of the world.

Because no one noticed. No one noticed when he stole something. No one noticed how he pickpocketed everyone. No one noticed how he wore the same clothes every day. No one noticed how his hair was disheveled. No one saw the look in his eyes.

Most people thought that he wore a dead look in his eyes.

But if you looked closer, you could easily see that no, it wasn't a dead look.

Those who had dead eyes were dead. They were the ones who would take any ticket to leave this world. They were the people who didn't care. They were the people who let their family and friends cry, sob and be heartbroken.

He had seen the look of the dead, the look of self-hatred, the look of suicide.

But he wore the eyes of a warrior, a fighter.

Someone who never gave up, someone who would fight until the end.

He promised he would never have that look in his eyes.

But one day, he did.

Wyatt

It was a dark night when he realized what that look meant.

There was a boy, in an alley, brown hair and eyes. Eyes that were bloodshot. Wyatt, his name was. At first he thought Wyatt was fine, fighting for survival like him. He was an orphan, like him.

He walked up to the crying boy, knelt down before him, comforted him. Wyatt gave a smile, fake as tears streamed down his face.

That fake smile was no mystery. He knew what it meant. People told him to watch for it. To be wary. Some told him to run if he saw that look. Others told him to help the person immediately.

He did the latter.

He threw all the sharp objects away from Wyatt easily, and gave the boy a hug.

"You'll be alright, I'm here for you."

"But you don't even know me."

"Does it matter? I won't hurt you. We have the same pasts, and the same future. But we won't if we give up now."

Wyatt nodded, as the two started talking easily to each other.

"So what's your name?" Wyatt asked. He smiled, sharing it quietly. Wyatt smiled, that tearful smile again. "I like it. I wish I had a name like that."

"Yours is cool!" He argued. "I don't know anyone with a W and a Y in their name! You're unique and special."

Wyatt nodded bashfully, staring at the ground. "No one has ever told me that before."

He stuck out his hand in a handshake. "Friends?"

He tried not to listen to how Wyatt nearly choked when he said that.

"Yeah... friends."

Wyatt, no matter what, always wore that tearful smile, no matter how much his friend tried to cheer him up.

"So there was this one time at a foster home my foster parents had a kid, a girl named Adriana. It wasn't that she didn't like me or anything. She was just a spoiled little girl that thought that the world belonged to her. It was so funny when she would scrunch up her nose in her little pink dress and fairy wand when she saw my hair. It was all 'boys shouldn't have long hair! That's for girls!'" He spoke in a high-pitched nasally voice that earned a laugh from Wyatt.

"So I was like, 'I like my hair long! It's nice that way!' And she was all stomping her feet and growing angry. 'But girls have long hair! Boys can't have long hair!'"

He stomped his feet around and smiled when Wyatt seemed to have a good time.

"Don't you just hate girls?" Wyatt asked.

"I know, right? They're such princesses. I mean, there are some that are cool and will play baseball with you, but other are just girls."

Wyatt shook his head, that tearful smile on his face again. "Ugh."

He learned, slowly, that Wyatt had been kicked out of his house by his parents. They called him weak and pathetic, and that he should just go die.

"They're the ones that should just go die," he offered. Wyatt nodded slowly, his eyes watering again as he used his dirty sleeve to wipe away his tears. "You're a pretty amazing boy, Wyatt. To be able to deal with that. To be able to push through and fight."

He didn't notice how Wyatt stiffened up, but he did notice the smile. Not teary. A true smile.

"Yeah."

He thought he'd gotten to the other boy. He thought he saved a life and was a hero. He thought he'd never have to deal with death again.

He was wrong.

The sun peeked over the building, as one pair of eyes opened. The other didn't. He shook Wyatt, but knew it was no use.

Blood splattered everywhere. A knife slashed marks in his arms. There was a small chain wrapped around Wyatt's neck, choking him, and next to him lay words, written crudely in blood.

I'm so sorry.

He cried at the lost of his new friend. He cried for what seemed hours, until there were no more tears to shed.

Slowly, he took the chain from Wyatt's neck. He wiped off the blood and wrapped it around his wrist, making a bracelet.

He would carry the memory in his mind, through that. He would carry a piece of his friend around with him, and a constant reminder to never do that. You never know when someone that cares is watching.

He always would wear that chain, clench it tightly around his wrist as tears escaped his eyes. Wyatt left a reminder in his heart, though he only just met the boy.

He wouldn't end up like Wyatt. He promised himself that.

But he did.

Seth

Seth was always a mystery to him. Seth always hid his emotions under a monotone voice.

Seth was older then him, about sixteen. Just bridging into manhood with his piercing green eyes and reddish hair. But the two shared a brotherly bond.

After Wyatt's passing, he was walking along the streets, trying not to follow his friend's path.

He had run into Seth, not watching where he was going. The boy pulled him up, and the first thing he saw was that look in Seth's eyes.

He pushed it away, greeting him happily as they exchanged names.

"Well, I'm Seth, you're quite young to be on the streets, huh?"

"I know," he replied quietly, lowering his head.

Seth frowned, and patted his head. "I'm sorry for what happened. My parents died in a car crash. No one noticed me."

"I never knew my parents."

"...oh."

Seth took him under his wing. He got food for both of them, and he fought off enemies.

Seth also did more personal things. He fought off the monsters that haunted his young friend's dreams, he acted as a big brother.

So it was no joke everyone thought he was fine.

No one knew Seth's real life. He didn't understand what was happening when Seth silently cried at night. He didn't understand when Seth always wore long sleeves.

Because Seth never had a tearful smile like Wyatt. Seth didn't seem like he was broken.

"I want to be a professional archer one day," Seth told him. He smiled.

"That's cool. Did you ever shoot an arrow before?"

Seth smiled slyly before taking out a thick piece of wood. Slowly, he unfolded it into a bow.

"It took awhile and I had to get used to the drag weight difference, but..." he fitted and arrow that mysteriously appeared from in his jacket and shot it, straight at a fluttering piece of paper. "I never miss."

A smile appeared on the younger's lips. Seth wasn't like Wyatt, maybe he was fine.

That night, they laughed at random things, stories Seth remembered from his years on the street.

"So this one time, I woke up and was hungry for an apple. I know, but I wanted an apple," Seth made gestures, making the apple seem so important. "So I got up, and decided 'I'm going to go look for the biggest, juiciest apple I can find.' So I walked along the streets, and happened to see a five dollar bill at my feet. I tried to grab it, but the wind blew it out of my reach. So, I did what any normal civilized person would do. Run frantically after it like some weird pyschopath. I'm sure I looked quite weird trying to grab it."

Both laughed as Seth imitated how he looked, arms flailing around as he grabbed at empty air. His eyes were wide and he purposefully tripped every now and then.

"So I soon found I was three blocks down from where I usually was, and I was about to give up when it flew right in my hand!" Seth chuckled. "So I ran down the street to a farmer's market. And the poor guy who watched the whole show stuffed about ten apples in my bag and let me keep the money!"

Seth reached in an old bag. "The best part about the story? It was early this morning!" He tossed an apple over to his companion, who caught it and took a bite of the red fruit. Man, that tasted good.

They laughed for awhile, until suddenly, Seth clutched his head and screeched words that sounded gibberish to basically anyone that heard them.

His friend ran over, worry in his eyes as he hugged Seth, asking the older boy if he was alright.

"Listen to me..." Seth ordered, looking up.

That look. That dead look and tearful smile.

Wyatt's look.

"I am not going anywhere!" He shook with fear, afraid of what Seth would do if he left. "I lost Wyatt, I'm not gonna lose you!"

Seth only smiled. He hugged his 'little brother' tightly. "I promise you this was never of my own will. I sold my soul to save my little sister." He sighed. "I have a... friend. He lives at a pawn shop a little ways down. Go to him, tell him I sent you. Tell him it was time. He'll give you directions from there."

Wide bambi eyes watered. "No, Seth, please." He hugged the boy tightly. "I don't want you to go! Please, at least let me stay through it! At least so you're not alone!"

Seth frowned, watching his brother's eyes fill with tears. "You weren't just my older brother," he sniffed to Seth, "you are like my dad."

Seth's eyes widened, and he hugged the young boy once more.

"Please, please let me stay."

"O-okay."

He watched with tear-streaming eyes as Seth picked out an arrow from his pack delicately. He rummaged through his sack to pick out a thin piece of wire. "Because you have Wyatt's chain, I thought you might like to take the arrowhead."

He only nodded, and watched as Seth lifted an arm to pat his 'son's' head. "It's alright, I promise you."

With that, he gripped Seth's hand in his own and watched as he plunged the arrow in his chest.

If you ever get used to death of people close, that's when the problem starts.

He cried, and cried, almost longer than when Wyatt died. Slowly, he wiggled the arrow out of Seth's chest. It was the same deal. Wipe the blood off, wrap the wire, and attach it to the chain.

Some people collect seashells, or maybe coins.

What he collected, it was different. They meant the world to him.

Maybe since he was younger at the time, Wyatt's death went faster than Seth's. But they still hurt like fresh wounds.

He knew that holding the objects they killed themselves with was weird, but each time it gave him a reason to live. Seth and Wyatt wouldn't want him to fall into depression.

Seth, oh how he missed his father figure. He was sure in his heart they'd never meet again.

Never.

Bailey

He followed Seth's instructions, heartbroken, to a man. Middle-aged, probably in his early thirties.

"Look kid, I don't know what you want, but I made a deal with a guy and I'm looking for someone."

"Is that 'guys' name Seth? Sixteen year old, sold his soul to save his sister?" At the man's wide eyes, he nodded, looking at the ground. "Yeah, he sent me. Said it was his time."

"Oh shoot." The man rubbed his forehead. "Too soon, too soon," he muttered, then smiled at the boy. "Names Ronin, kid, and Seth told me to tell you this. Ya know the big monastery up on the mountain?"

The boy nodded. "Well, I was supposed to tell you too go there. Okay? The man there is really nice, and knows Seth too. He'll let you right in."

"Thanks," he muttered, then looked back. "Oh and what was the thing you were talking about, 'too soon?'"

Ronin sighed. "I had to pay the Pree... the demon Seth sold his soul to some money so he could go peacefully. I gotta pay it off or else she'll torture him for eternity, and my soul will go to the Cursed Realm," he looked away, "I've looked after Seth for years now, I can't let him suffer."

The younger nodded, holding the chain on his right wrist painfully tight as he proceeded to follow Ronin's directions.

He found his way (with some help from two other kids) up to the doors of the monastery. A little scared, he nearly jumped when he saw an old man open the door, smiling at him.

"Hey there, would you like something to eat?"

He nodded slowly. "O-okay."

The man, his sensei, didn't have that look. His new friends didn't have that look. They were truly fine.

That was, until he met Bailey.

He was doing an errand for his sensei, getting some apples (which brought back memories, but whatever) when he saw a girl picking up some as well.

"Those look pretty bruised," he pointed out. "They might be rotten. You don't wanna eat those." The girl looked up, and smiled.

That look.

"Oh, my bad. I can't tell." Her voice was light and melodic, and she had an hourglass frame. She looked about Seth's age, her eyes were a soft blue, with black hair falling down her face in a heart-shape.

It suddenly hit him. This girl had to be a singer. "Excuse me, but do you sing? I'm sorry, it's a weird question."

She shook her head, smiling lightly. "Actually, yes. I have a talent for it. Opera, pop, rock, I even memorized some anime songs."

"Whoa, really? That's so cool!"

She held out her hand. "I'm Bailey, it's nice to meet you." She frowned, and looked on her wrist watch. "Oh, my parents are gonna be waiting for me! I have to go. Bye!"

He nodded, before buying the apples and running back to the monastery.

After a while, they ran into each other again at a music story. "Oh, its you!" Bailey said. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name the first time."

"Oh..." he smiled, and told her his name. Bailey's eyes brightened.

"That's a cool name." He unconsciously fingered his bracelet, the chain, and the arrowhead.

Bailey smiled, placing an arm on his shoulder.

Slowly, over time, they met up over and over again. If Seth was a father figure, Bailey was a motherly figure. Whenever he tripped, she would patch him up and offer a sweet smile. Whenever he forget something, she insisted to buy a new one.

But that look, that look that followed him around. It killed those close to him. He tried to kept her from showing it, he tried to hold on to hope.

"Let's get you home," Bailey smiled.

He stopped. "Hey, could you sing for me?"

Bailey smiled lightly again. "Of course. What do you want?"

He thought for a minute. "Hmm... I'm not sure. Could you pick something?"

Bailey smiled. "Okay... how about I Will Return by Skylar Grey?"

"I've never heard that one," he admitted.

It turned out to be a slow song as a follow-up to See You Again.

As the lyrics danced from Bailey's throat, he could almost see Wyatt and Seth, his friends that he missed so much.

"Oh, gosh, are you alright?" Bailey asked. "You're crying!"

He wiped his eyes gently. "Yeah, sorry. It just, reminded me of some friends. They... they died."

"Oh!" Bailey was immediately there to hug her younger friend. "I'm so sorry!"

He wiped his eyes. "It's alright, at least I got you."

It was awhile later, and Sensei turned up the staticky radio, as he listened to the news.

There was a knock on the door, and his sensei immediately got up from his chair to answer.

It was Bailey's father. Tears rolled down the man's cheeks. He immediately hid behind his sensei's robes, fearing the worst.

"I heard... your pupil was close to my daughter so I came up to tell you."

"She's dead, isn't she?" His eyes closed. "It's alright, I should've guessed it."

Her father fumbled with what to say. "She's been fighting depression since a show she was fired from, it really hurt us when her boss yelled at her. We thought it was under control and..."

"I understand. Can I... if you don't mind...?"

His sensei looked down at him in worry, petting his hair slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Everyone around me dies," he replied quietly. "I'll never get used to it, I shouldn't, but I can tolerate it."

That day, he found out she broke a glass bottle (with her voice, the rumor) and used a shard to slit her wrists and bleed out. Her parents heard her scream in pain, but it was to late.

Bailey was gone, along with Wyatt and Seth.

He heated up a shard from the bottle, softened the edges, and poked a hole through to attach to the chain. His sensei looked at him worried.

"It's just how I cope," he replied. "It leaves a memory burning in my brain. But I'm fine." He still held the eyes of a fighter, and that satisfied his sensei.

Staring at the charms on his bracelet, he already missed Bailey's sweet voice. It left him feeling cold, broken.

He would never hear it again.

Grant

It had been awhile, things had changed.

His sensei had told him he had special powers. He told him he could've been a savior to mankind.

But he wasn't. He wasn't choosen. He wasn't special.

If anything, he was the opposite. The black cat to the ladybug. The thirteen to the seven.

Wherever he went, bad luck followed. He killed those around him.

He was embraced by coldness. Nothing else.

So the first time a person smiled at him, he ran.

He left his sensei, afraid something would happen to him. He ran far, far away to make sure nothing happened to anyone. Maybe... maybe if he were the choosen one, he'd stop this bad luck. Maybe he could help people. He just had to prove himself. Prove he could spread good luck instead of bad.

"Hello, there." He froze, as his eyes met a boy with sandy-blond hair and brown eyes. The boy wore a huge, giddy grin.

"S-stay away from me..." he warned. He couldn't be friends with this person. He couldn't lose another person.

The older boy squinted down at him. "You seem lost. Maybe Grant can help."

He looked around. "Who's... Grant?"

The older boy sighed, looking down. "Grant isn't very smart. Got kicked out of school. People made fun of Grant. Grant just wanted a friend." He pointed to himself the whole time.

He got it. The boy was Grant. "Why did they kick you out?" He asked, shifting uncomfortably.

Grant laughed. "Because school couldn't handle Grant's stomach!"

He noticed how Grant seemed to be a little on the thin side, but nothing major. He smiled up at Grant. "Well, I think you're cool."

"...Thank you. No one's ever said something nice to Grant." Grant looked away. "Why did you say to leave you be?"

"Because I'm a misfit like you. Everywhere I go, people... think badly about themselves. They hurt themselves, and... die."

Grant's eyes widened. "Poor boy. Grant sorry for asking. Really." Grant hesitantly reached out a hand, and he flinched, pulling back.

"Don't. I can't be your friend. I'm really sorry Grant. I wish I could. But I'll just hurt you."

Grant frowned. "You said that people hurt themselves. Were they doing it before you came? It's not your fault, then. Grant maybe not smart, but he knows what's true."

"I guess you're right..."

Grant only smiled again. "O.K. Grant is hungry, do you want to eat something?"

"Sure, why not?" He liked Grant's happy go lucky personality.

They soon ate at a place, an all-you-can-eat buffet. Grant seemed to enjoy potstickers.

"Hey, freak!" A kid shouted from another table. "Can you get any fatter? Or is the food going to your head. Getting rid of all those brain cells!"

Grant closed his eyes and clenched his fists, pushing away his plates. He looked to his new friend. "Grant wasn't that hungry anyways."

"But you said you were earlier," he pointed out.

Grant flinched. "Well... Grant not hungry anymore." He quickly paid for the bill and smiled as he walked along the shops with the younger.

When he passed a store with little charms, one that caught his eyes was in the shape of a potsticker. Please don't make me buy it, Grant. He fingered the chain and its two charms. He really didn't want to add a third.

"Do you like it?" Grant gestured to the charm. He shook his head rapidly. "Suite yourself." He bought it quickly, holding it up in trumph. "Potstickers," he said, a tiny desperate tone in his voice. "Grant's favorite."

The two continued walking as the younger looked up. "Why do you listen to those kids? You're an amazing guy, Grant. You're so nice and positive, why do you listen to those jerks?"

Grant looked away. "Because kids are right. Grant is fat. Grant eats to much. Not good. People should be thin, not fat." He stuffed his hands in his hoodie, biting his lip. "Grant doesn't want to talk about this."

The other boy laid a hand on Grant's shoulder. "Well, I don't want to hurt you. Please don't lose yourself."

Grant nodded, before his eyes lit up as he looked at another shop. "Look!" He pointed to a toy store. The two boys immediately ran up to the store giddily. Grant fumbled around for his wallet and bought two toy cars. One was green and black, the other one a light blue. He handed the green and black one to his friend. "It matches your hair."

"Guess it does," he admitted, smiling as he looked over the object.

Over the weeks, he began to notice Grant kept getting thinner, and weaker. But he hid it with that giddy smile and nothing seemed the matter. Grant let his friend stay at his house, and even his parents didn't notice the change. He played along.

Until one day, when he just couldn't stand it anymore.

"Some people have little thingys in their stomach that takes all the food. Do you have one? You're getting really thin." Grant's eyes widened.

"Grant fine. Grant's parents are... going through bad time. Grant's dad lost job. Grant losing money. Less food."

The eight-year-old boy crossed his arms. "Mm-hm. Grant, I know when people are lying. I've seen it enough times."

Grant hung his head. "Grant not fat, right?"

"Great Devourer no! You're thin, if anything! That's why I'm worried."

Grant exhaled carefully. "But... people still call Grant fat. Freak. So if Grant don't eat, Grant isn't fat."

"Grant, if you don't eat, your body stops functioning, and you die. Is that what you want?"

The older boy closed his eyes. "Grant was born at wrong time. Time where people judge others. Maybe... if Grant dies, Grant reborn again in better time. Time where people are free to be who they want, and Grant don't have to be sad anymore. Maybe Grant not remember his past life, but it okay."

"See, this is all my fault! I'm making you feel like this!" He shouted, pacing back and forth. "Grant, you shouldn't hurt yourself..."

Grant stopped the other boy, looking deep into his eyes. "Grant knows this bad. Grant knows harming Grant means bad things. But sometimes... it doesn't have to be bad. Think about it. Being dead gives Grant a chance to be born again, born in a better world. Maybe Wyatt, Seth, and Bailey are in better world too. They had a bad past, just like Grant. Maybe... dying gives them another chance. Not everyone is as strong as you. Not everyone can win the war. It's something you have to accept."

"Geez, you sound like my old sensei," he attempted lightheartedly, but his voice ended up cracking at the end.

"Grant will not speak of this again until the day Grant tells you to leave. Understand? We will be happy for the next week or two."

So, for the next 'week or two' (which was actually a week) they stayed happy. They fooled around like any boys would do. They watched movies and played with their cars. All boyish games.

Then, one day, Grant looked at his friend dead in the eye and said; "Today Grant's last day. Today we do anything you want."

The younger only nodded, eyes watering. "Well, I kinda wanted to see that musical on Madagascar."

Grant's eyes brightened. "Grant loves musicals!"

He winced. He knew malnourishment should leave the person weak and nearly unconscious, but Grant was fighting it for his sake. It seemed almost impossible, but the older managed.

They started walking, a little slow, but managed to get to the theater. They paid for the tickets, and watched with smiles. They even got up with the rest of the crowd (per King Julian's request) and danced to I Like to Move It.

"Everybody up, everybody jump, everybody bump your buddy in the rump!" They nearly shouted along with the crowd. It may not have been from the movie, but it made the musical more fun.

After the show, they strolled around the shops, Grant had saved up allowance for this day, letting his friend spend as much money as he wanted.

He watched as Grant continued to stop, holding his stomach. You could see all his ribs. The younger linked fingers with Grant as they continued along the street.

"Let's go in here!" He exclaimed multiple times.

Soon, the sun was burning out, and Grant's stops started taking more time. They decieded, with heavy hearts, to head back home.

"Please don't tell Grant's parents you knew," Grant asked as he got in bed. His friend watched with watery eyes, but nodded. "Grant don't want to get you in trouble, but Grant doesn't belong here."

"Grant..." he held his friend's hand, "you're not stupid, trust me. Just because you talk differently doesn't mean you're dumb. You've spoken some pretty smart things." Grant nodded.

"Goodnight, Grant will see you again."

"Goodnight, Grant."

When Grant fell asleep, he ended it with a small 'goodbye.' He stopped, seeing Grant's open hand. In it held the small charm, the little potsticker. He looked at Grant, who was still breathing, and took it.

"I hope I see you again sometime."

Tomorrow

When Tomorrow was born, his mother, the North Wind, knew of the pain he would endure as Master of Wind.

The wind carried the dead's spirits to the afterlife. The wind would take them, and carry them to the heavens. Sometimes there were angels, or a certain boy to help, but mostly the North Wind did all the work.

Her brothers, the East, South, and West Winds, worried about her little son.

"What shall you name him?" East Wind, the gentlest of his brothers, asked.

North Wind brushed a strand of long, dark hair that seemed like the night sky behind her ear. In her human form, she wore pale skin, dark hair, and grey eyes with tints of green. "I wish a better tomorrow for him. That shall be his name, Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" West Wind wrinkled his nose.

North Wind shot him a glare. "I knew of a boy named Diamond, what bad is Tomorrow?"

South Wind scoffed. "It is your child. Your mortal child. Since when have we mingled with mortals?" He and West Wind let the door slam behind them, leaving the new mother and East Wind.

"I wish to depart on friendly terms, dear sister, that I support your ways and I think it is a beautiful child."

"Thank you, brother," she nodded, watching as her younger brother smiled slightly before disappearing.

Over the years, Tomorrow grew in the mortal city, watched by his mother and uncle. He found friends, but like North Wind knew, they passed away.

Tomorrow tried to hide himself away from the world. He lived on the streets, trying to keep his cursed powers to himself.

North Wind always sent a comforting breeze his way, and at night, especially in winter when she helped Jack Frost spread the new season, he could see her passing through.

"It's alright, my child," she whispered one night to him. "I'm here for you. You will find happiness. I promise."

Even the great North Wind couldn't control the Fates. They were the controllers of the Cloud Kingdom, the kingdom of Fate and Destiny.

The Fates seemed to despise the Winds, because they couldn't, no matter how hard they tried, a sheer force of Gaea herself.

So they took it out on the mortal child, which they had partial control over.

Poor little Tomorrow suffered. He suffered and watched his friends kill themselves. Even though Tomorrow was a fighter, he was losing the war.

Meanwhile, all four Winds were furious. West Wind and South Wind had slowly come around to aid their siblings in the protection of the child. They fought against the Fates, creating tornadoes and hurricanes and such storms that the mortal world seemed to nearly fall apart.

Tomorrow soon found comfort in an old man, the son of the First Spinjitzu Master, creator of the mortal realm. As the son of a Realmkeeper, he could not be tainted by time, unless those wielding it forcefully struck him. The semi-immortal had no wish to harm himself, therefore protecting little Tomorrow from hurting anyone, and himself.

But it didn't stop his bad luck. He tried not to make friends, but it was impossible. More fell at his feet, dragging his heart further down.

The wind was his only comfort, as he learned he would only spread bad luck, not good. There would be someone to destroy him, Destiny called.

The Winds angered again, wanting to save the boy, carry him to the Heavens with them.

But what they did not expect was his heart, so heavy, wanted to join his friends in the bewitched Cursed Realm.

The Winds tried to stop him. North Wind whispered in his ear how it wasn't worth it, how they could never meet if he did what he thought was good.

But Tomorrow didn't listen. He saw no light, no brighter future as thought in his namesake.

He walked, straight into those lava caves, called the Caves of Despair. Ironic name.

Tomorrow didn't feel the heat of the lava. He only felt cold. The world was cold, wasn't it?

Until he was on fire. He screamed, screamed so loud it nearly shook the cave. The Winds tossled his hair and whispered comforts in his hair.

The next day, a hurricane covered the entire mortal realm. Teardrops flooded the streets, and angry gusts ripped it to shreds.

North Wind held out the longest. Her child was gone. It was her fault. And... how she let him live in the mortal realm.

In the Cursed Realm, Tomorrow opened his eyes, and greeted his friends, Wyatt, Seth, Bailey, and Grant.

The Winds only watched as they rejoiced, happiness and sadness overcoming them. It rained for a few more days, but a rainbow appeared afterward.

After years, they realized the Cursed Realm was torture, and they finally got an escape. The Winds caressed their not-so mortal child in joy.

Tomorrow was forced through a whole new trial of tests.

He fought the Green Ninja, the choosen one, the one that spread good, instead of bad.

The Cursed Realm forced him to fight him, to fight and win. He had to or else torture would encourage him.

So he tried. Tomorrow tried to avoid the look in his old sensei's eyes, he tried to fight. But he couldn't fight the war any longer.

So he ending up dying in water, his enemy.

But the Winds fought Destiny, fought the Fates, and saved him along with his friends, let him live in the mortal realm once more.

They lived in joy, knowing that Winds and Destiny would protect them, that Mother Earth had their back. They also knew that had each other.

The world might have been cold, but there is a lie. There is someone that can warm you, that can stay by your side forever.

And it wouldn't change.

You probably never knew the story of Tomorrow, Wyatt, Seth, Bailey, and Grant.

That's okay, I don't blame you. But I'm here to tell you that, to share their backstories.

Yes, backstories.

You don't know them as Wyatt, Seth, Bailey, and Grant.

You know them as the ghosts that tried to take over Ninjago City.

You know them as Wrayth, Soul Archer, Bansha, and Ghoul Tar. Evil ghosts that tried to control the world.

You don't know the real them. The innocent children. The ones who had such a hard life.

You know him as the Master of Wind. The mere name must send shivers down your spine. Makes you cover your ears and close your eyes.

I bet you don't know him as Tomorrow, the son of the North Wind.

I bet you know him by another name. One that scares all the little ones during their nightmares and scary stories.

You know him as Morro.