moonlight | ninjago

01 ✧ kira

"i'm the kind of girl who doesn't say a word
who sits at the curb and waits for the world."
✧✧✧

Early morning sunlight shines down on the land of Ninjago. A new day has begun, bringing with it a flurry of activity. Ninjago City is already bustling like always, and all over the land, towns and neighborhoods wake up and become busy themselves.

High up in the mountains, Jamanakai Village slumbers, nestled cozily among the snow-capped peaks. As the sun rises, however, the little town gradually comes to life. Villagers emerge from their homes, chirping good mornings and hellos to each other as they start on their daily routines. Some open their stores for the day, while others tend to their crops or start on chores. It's not long before the place is buzzing with life. It's a small, cozy scene, lively yet peaceful at the same time.

In a house toward the edge of the village, a girl groans as she awakens from her slumber. She yawns and sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her half-open eyes. She doesn't recall when she dozed off last night. The last thing she remembers is staring up at the moon, longing for someone she's always missed yet never known. A sigh escapes her and she shakes her head, scolding herself mentally for staying up late again. It's morning now and, as always, there's a long day ahead of her.

She looks around her room as her vision clears. Like her, it's small and rather plain; aside from her bed, dresser, desk, and the carpet in the middle of the floor, it's basically empty. It's not much, but she prefers the simplicity. After all, as they say, sometimes less is more. Her gaze shifts from her room to her window, and she groans as she notices the golden fingers of sunlight extending through the sky. She's already overslept.

Crap.

The girl yawns again and slides out of bed. She doesn't concern herself with what to wear, considering she only has a handful of outfits anyhow–just a few shirts and long skirts, her sleepwear, and her mother's old Yukata for summer months, which would be more useful if she didn't live on a snowy mountain year-round. She grabs a top and skirt before trudging to the one bathroom in her little house. Bathing and dressing don't take long, and soon she finds herself adjusting the final pin on her top, examining her reflection in the mirror.

A pair of dark brown eyes stare back, surrounded by dark circles from yet another restless night. They belong to a small girl, barely five feet tall, if even that. Her face is still round and babyish despite being sixteen, and her figure is lithe and dainty, almost like a doll's. Her dark hair sits disheveled on her head, revealing the simple piercing she has in each ear. No matter how she tries to wear it overnight, it always ends up looking like a rat's nest when she wakes up.

"Kira Desarin," she murmurs to herself, "you look like a tired mess."

She grabs her brush and drags it through the jet-black locks, ridding it of tangles and restoring its slight natural wave as it falls just above her shoulders. Her fingers twine through the dark strands, taking a small portion and twisting, until she's created a small braid that wraps around her head. "That's better." She gives a small smile before leaving the bathroom.

Judging by the mouth-watering aroma of breakfast that drifts up from the kitchen, her mother is already up and about. No doubt she's already prepared their usual: steamed rice, miso soup, and a side of salad, complete with the staple of the Desarin family—a cup of steaming-hot tea. Her stomach rumbles just thinking about it as she makes her way downstairs.

"Late to breakfast, are we?" her mother teases when she saunters into the kitchen. "What a shame. I was hoping you'd help me cook today."

She turns away from the stove to face her with a playful smile. Looking at her, Kira sees why the neighbors say she looks more like her father. Her mother, Aimi Desarin, is nothing short of a pretty woman; neat, chin-length hair that never looks messy, soft and round facial features, and a youthful gleam in her dark eyes, not to mention the subtle curves of a lady her age. Next to her, Kira looks like a ten-year-old boy—small and fragile-looking, with no prominent feminine features to speak of. She tries not to think about it as she approaches.