Chapter Text
The Word Victory is such a strange word, but stranger are those who belong to it.
The victors of a battle write the history. Normally, they illustrate their great victories with textbooks, murals, history being written within the period. But what happens...when the Victors are so ashamed of their victory they pretend it never happened?
A long time ago, before the First Spinjitzu Master. Before the Elemental Masters, before the Golden Weapons, there was a people. Nobody knew where they came from- for they were not native to the dimension, nor any of the dimensions around them.
The people called themselves the 'Netsukami' Clan, and were a peaceful people. Entirely neutral in any conflict, yet extremely powerful and horrifying adversaries. The people had the power over the very spirit that resided within them, giving them extraordinary powers. Some even had the ability to control the liquid life that flowed through others' bodies.
The clan welcomed the First Spinjistu Master and all that he brought with him. Without the Netsukami, the man would have never been able to reshape Ninjago. Many battles would've been lost. And Ninjago itself could've fallen into the talons of the dark and evil far sooner than was prophesized.
But that wasn't enough. Jealously, anger, and fear festered in the hearts of humans- as they always do. The Netsukami clan was forced to go back to their singular village in the far East. Hidden in wooded mountains, and settled within the special forest of their own creation they flourished alone.
However, this only increased suspicion. Soon, elemental masters were whispering. Wondering. Planning.
Why should the Netsukami have such power? What have they done that the Elemental Masters could not? They're dangerous- why are they even IN Ninjago? Where did they even come from?
Those thoughts swirled around in their heads, long enough for them to become words. The First Spinjistu Master was hesitant, reluctant even. 'They helped him'. He fruitlessly reminded them. 'They were good people.' He begged weakly. 'One of them raised my sons.' Was his final plea.
But no. The humans of Ninjago would not listen. They wanted death- and that is what they would get.
Under the guise of a feast, they invited the whole of the Netsukami Clan to Ninjago City. While suspicious, the Clan was still kind and forgiving. They came despite the wariness of many.
They should have never left their village.
It was a slaughter. Caught by surprise, and many trying to protect their elderly and children, all were murdered in cold blood.
All except one.
All except the daughter of the chief, Chi Netsukami. She had managed to hide herself, using her last reserves to flee to the edges of Ninjago. She could not return to her village, for some of the people had razed it to the ground, destroying everything. Exhausted, bloody, and grief stricken, she collapses on the lands of what would eventually be a small village.
The people there only heard rumors of what was happening, and had no qualms against those who had helped them so many times before. Chi was welcomed into the village, given a new last name, and protected from any traveler that dared to look at her longer than acceptable.
While in Ninjago, overcome by shame, the Elemental Masters struck the entire instance from any records. Only words of mouth and memory could ever hope to pass down the tale. Eventually, it would be forgotten, and those who remembered would never speak of it again.
Thus, the Victors remade history. But in doing so- they were never really Victors at all. They failed at their objective, and it would come back to haunt them.
Chi eventually married, and had a daughter. That daughter had a daughter. That daughter had a daughter. That daughter had a daughter. And finally, that daughter had a daughter whom she named Sora.
And so, the clan of Netsukami lives on.
This is where our story starts.