Jador hated the water. It was cold and wet, and it got everywhere. Especially when you were forced to live submerged in it for the rest of your life.
As a Ta-Matoran, it was only natural that he had such an aversion towards the sea; water was often used to put out fires, after all. However, he could not help but feel as if he was the only Ta-Matoran in Mahri Nui who felt this way. Sarda never seemed to complain much about their shared predicament, thought he did not complain much about anything. Even Nalrik, a hot-headed member of the Mahri Nui Council, seemed to have grown complacent with the situation they had found themselves in over seven hundred years agoâŚ
But Jador couldnât stand it. He didnât understand how any of the others â whether they were Ta-Matoran or not â could stand it. There was only one type of Matoran that he could believe were absolutely fine with living underwater for the rest of their lives, and he seethed to so much as think about them.
And to make matters worse, he was pretty sure the others knew just how much he hated water. That was why they always sent him outside of the air bubbles that protected the villagers from succumbing to the dangerous waters outside to do some errand or other, whether it was watching the Hydruka harvest airweeds with Reysa or going out hunting with Dekar. Regardless of whatever enjoyment he would have otherwise derived from such jobs had he still be living on land, he always hated it because it required him having to leave the water-free zones of the city and into the treacherous waters that lay beyond Mahri Nui.
The Great Spirit must have thought it was really funny to sink a village full of Ta-Matoran and pretty much one Matoran of every other element into the Great Sea, instead of just throwing in the ones who actually enjoyed it. Well, Jador wasnât laughing. In fact, he hadnât laughed at anything in the past seven hundred years.
âAll right, looks like weâre done here.â
Jador let out a sigh of relief, snapping out of the reverie he had found himself in. Watching the Hydruka harvest airweed was already boring enough as it was, regardless of whether he hated being underwater or not. He turned around to see Reysa swimming up to him, followed by a blue-colored Hydruka. For reasons Jador had yet to comprehend, the Onu-Matoran had given names to pretty much all of the Hydruka under his care; names that Jador could never keep track of.
âDid Thulox give you any trouble?â Reysa asked as he approached.
Jador frowned at him. âSorry, which one was Thulox again?â
âThe red one.â Reysa gestured to the crimson-plated Hydruka in question. âHeâs been acting pretty surly for the past few weeks ever since I accidentally stepped on his tail.â
Jador stared at him for a prolonged moment, waiting (perhaps even hoping) for the Onu-Matoran to tell him that he was just joking around and had not actually named and personalized these water-breathing Rahi. Instead, Reysa turned his back to the Ta-Matoran without another word, beckoning for the Hydruka to follow him back to the city. Jador took a deep breath before going after them, doing everything he could to not release his frustration in a deafening sigh.
Back in the city, Jador savored the air as much as he could. He tried not to make too much a show of it, lest he get a lecture from Defilak about how precious this air was (of course a Le-Matoran would be obsessed over such a thing) or from Gar about looking like a huge jerk towards everyone. Then again, Jador got that last lecture from pretty much everyone on a day-to-day basis regardless of whether or not he was even in the wrong.
To say that Jador felt like an outcast in his own home would have been an understatement.
He supposed he shouldnât have been too surprised; all of the Matoran living in Mahri Nui had originally hailed from different lands before being sent to Karzahni for ârepairsâ and then shipped off to the Southern Continent, where they had constructed the village that would later sink into the Great Sea as a result of a cataclysmic event. Even then, a good majority of the Matoran in Mahri Nui all seemed to have originated from the same island. Sarda, Defilak, Dekar, and Idris he knew hailed from Kangaro, a land in the western region whose Turaga had gone mad before sending the islandâs entire Matoran population to Karzahni. Matoran like Gar or Reysa he wasnât so sure about, but seeing as how well the former got along with Defilak, he honestly would not have been too surprised if the Onu-Matoran came from Kangaro as well.
As far as he knew, Jador was the only Matoran from his own homeland living in Mahri Nui. And had it not been for a certain Ga-Matoran, he probably would have never been sent to Karzahni in the first place.
While his memories of living on both Voya Nui and Karzahni were a blur, he still remembered his life on Kora Nui vividly. Specifically, he could recall the very moment that had resulted in his injury and prompted his Turaga to send him to the land where all broken Matoran were sent; something which Jador had thought only happened in legends or tales told around a campfire.
Every night, he saw her face in his dreams, vivid enough for him to memorize every last detail. The dark blue hue of her mask, the red glow of her heartless eyes, her mirthless smirk as she shoved him beneath the waters and held him there as he thrashed for air.
When he woke up, the pulse of his heartlight quickened to match up with the beat of his heart as he tried to catch his breath. When others would ask him if he was all right, he would brush off their concerns. He knew that if he told them, they would simply accuse him of making things up to justify his disdain towards Ga-Matoran.
Deep down, he knew his prejudice was irrational and unjustified. His would-be Ga-Matoran murderer was not representative of all Ga-Matoran; in fact, he knew plenty of Ga-Matoran on Kora Nui who had been nothing like Tuyet. But the trauma he had received from that event, coupled with the injury he had sustained that had led to him being sent to Karzahni, had been enough to cause him to avoid the Ga-Matoran living in Mahri Nui as much as possible. If Defilak wanted to put him on sentry duty, he would ask for a partner other than Kyrehx. If he wanted to ask Sarda something, he would wait until the other Ta-Matoran was done speaking with Idris.
It was a difficult way of living and would undoubtedly be much easier if he would just let go of his undeserved hate. But try as he might, Jador simply could not get rid of the image of Tuyetâs mask every time he looked at another Ga-Matoran.
While Reysa headed off to take care of the airweed they had harvested, Jador made his way towards the large dome at the center of the city. The Matoran Council was sure to be wrapping up their meeting about now and he was hoping to catch his friend Kyron on the way out. He used the term âfriendâ loosely; as a Ko-Matoran, Kyron naturally butted heads with Jador on almost every time they interacted. But out of every one in Mahri Nui, Kyron seemed to tolerate Jadorâs presence the most and had not practically shunned him like many of the others did, besides perhaps Sarda.
Upon reaching the dome, Jador scanned the sea of Matoran spilling out of it, searching for his Matatu-wearing friend. Back on Kora Nui, Jador had been a mask maker and was able to determine a maskâs power and shape with as much as a quick glance. As Mahri Nui lacked the materials required to make masks, Jador was forced to abandon this position, which frustrated him almost as much as being underwater did. When he had arrived at Karzahni, his Kanohi Sanok had been replaced with a mask that looked like a cross between two different masks; from one angle, it looked like a Kanohi Kiril while from another it looked like a Mask of Emulation. He had no idea where Karzahni had even gotten such a mask, but its mere shape infuriated him to no end. He had tried several times to get Sarda or any of the other Ta-Matoran to exchange masks with him, but each and every one of them had refused.
After several minutes of searching the crowd, Jador was unable to find his Ko-Matoran acquaintance. The few Ko-Matoran he did see either did not wear Matatu or did not have dark-blue armor accompanying their white. Frowning, Jador instead made his way towards Gar, who just so happened to be speaking with the Ga-Matoran Kyrehx. Jador cursed silently to himself but pressed on ahead, even when Kyrehx gave him a look as he closed in on the pair.
âGar,â Jador said to the Onu-Matoran, speaking quickly in the hopes of getting this over with as soon as possible. âHave you seen Kyron around?â
Gar turned to him, a frown crossing his Kanohi Komau. âKyron?â
âI just got back from herding the Hydruka and I was hoping to speak with him.â
âYou just got back?â Garâs frown deepened. âThen you havenât heardâŚ.â
âHeard what?â Jador asked, an uneasy feeling of dread creeping into his soul.
âKyron went missing earlier this afternoon,â Kyrehx said to him. âHe was out on sentry duty with me when he was taken by some⌠by some creature with tentacles. I didnât get a good look at it, but it didnât seem like any Rahi Iâve seen before, at least not here in Mahri Nui.â
Jadorâs world screeched to a halt, all of his senses going numb. He had been hearing rumors of Matoran disappearing for years, but they had happened so far and few in between that he hadnât thought much of it. There were countless Rahi dwelling in the depths beyond Mahri Nui and it wasnât unheard of for the odd Matoran to get on a Takea sharkâs bad side. But recently the disappearances had been increasing, to the point where it was a frequent topic of discussion at council meetings. For his part, Jador had tried his best not to think about it too much, telling himself that it was something that happened to âother people.â
Well, Kyron was âother people.â And to others, so was Jador. In fact, he wouldnât be surprised if some of them wished he had been the one to have disappeared, rather than Kyron or any of the other Matoran that had met their ill fates.
This realization shook Jador to the core and he started to sway on his feet. Gar stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was the most friendly gesture anyone had given him in⌠well, ever.
âI know Kyron was your friend,â the Onu-Matoran said quietly. âIf you need a moment to rest and process this, then I understand.â
Jador could barely hear him. He felt like he was being drowned again.
âJador?â
Kyrehxâs voice briefly broke him out of his trance and he finally brought himself to look at her. The look of concern and sympathy on her light blue Kanohi Mahiki was a far cry from the heartless expression he had seen on Tuyetâs Mask of Intangibility so many thousand years ago. In fact, the expressions on both her and Garâs masks were unlike any he had seen from the other Matoran in Mahri Nui. For the first time in his life, he felt as if someone actually cared about him.
âI⌠I need to go,â Jador finally managed to say, his voice coming out in a croak.
Gar nodded in understanding. âTake all the time you need. Iâll make sure to let Defilak know of your absence; heâll be leading the council in tomorrowâs session.â
Jador wasnât even listening anymore, already turning and walking away from the other two Matoran, unsure of where he was even heading.
Against the othersâ objections, Jador volunteered for sentry duty, taking up the post that had been left vacant by Kyronâs disappearance. He needed something to take his mind off of the loss of his friend and he hoped that the frustration of being underwater would help with that.
Instead, it did the opposite of that.
Standing on the outskirts of Mahri Nuiâs borders, the only thing occupying his mind was the weight of the news he had just received. To think that all it took was the loss of the one Matoran who tolerated his presence at least somewhat to make him not only realize the gravity of the situation all of them were in, but to question the very mindset he had been abiding by for the last several centuries.
The look of sympathy he had gotten from Kyrehx, the words of consolation he had received from Idris as they had exchanged posts⌠it all made him realize just how wrong he had been to let his experience with a single Ga-Matoran â one who was atypical of her kind â shape his attitudes towards all others. It had been stupid and irrational of him, and now he feared it was too late to make amends. Any offer of reconciliation would be met only with either skepticism or outright rejection. He had already long burned his bridges with the population of Mahri Nui.
After several hours of patrolling the borders, seeing no sign of any Rahi or whatever creature that had taken Kyron, Jador noticed his air bubble beginning to diminish. Just as he was about to return to the city, a gleam of light caught his eye and he turned around to see a bright object descending from the waters above. He then noticed some sort of figure moving in pursuit of the object, swimming with the type of grace he would expect from a Ga-Matoran⌠except this figure was far too tall to be a mere Matoran. In fact, they looked more like aâŚ.
Toa! Jador had heard the stories of such heroes from his Turaga but had never seen one with his own eyes before; by the time he had been sent away for Karzahni, Kora Nui had no Toa Team of its own to speak of. Even so, he had heard enough from the likes of Sarda to know what one looked like, and he was positive that the figure chasing after the bright object was one themselves.
Figures it would be a Toa of Water, he thought, though strangely he didnât find this prospect as upsetting as he normally would have.
However, as he watched the Toa, he noticed that they were no longer chasing after the object but instead desperately trying to swim their way back up. Their motions became haphazard and less skillful, as if they no longer had control over what they were doing. It only took a moment for Jador to realize that the Toa was drowning.
Without even thinking, without even paying attention to his quickly shrinking air bubble, Jador shot up towards the sinking Toa. As he drew closer to them, enough to make out their blue and white armor and strangely organic mask, Jador realized that his air bubble was all but out. He sucked in the remaining air into his lungs as he reached the Toa of Water, before using all of his strength to swim his way towards the surface. As far as he knew, no Matoran of Mahri Nui had ever attempt to swim back up to land, and he quickly realized why this was. Already he could tell that the breath he had taken would not be enough and could already feel water beginning to fill up his lungs.
Still, he did not stop swimming. He would rescue this Toa from succumbing to her own element.
After everything, it was the least he could have done.
By the time they emerged from the ocean and onto dry land, it was already too late. Water had filled his lungs to the brim and he could barely process anything happening around him. He could feel the Toa of Water rolling him onto his back, pressing onto his chest in the hopes of resuscitating him, but he knew there would be no point.
Locking eyes with the Toa of Water, Jador used the last of his energy to speak the words that he hoped would bring the other Matoran down below the help they needed.
âHelp us⌠city beneath the sea⌠help us, or⌠weâre lostâŚ.â
Jador did not live long enough to hear the Toa of Waterâs response. The darkness quickly took him and his heartlight flickered one last time before fading away forever.
Some time later
The Endless Ocean did not seem to quite endless anymore, not ever since the world of Aqua Magna had been reunited with its sister worlds to reform the planet known as Spherus Magna. Still, in all that time, it had not lost any of its beauty and luster, and Toa Mahri Hahli still took great pleasure from looking upon the ocean whenever she had the chance. It almost made her feel like a Ga-Matoran again, living on the island of Mata Nui.
The sound of footsteps on the sand alerted her to the presence of Defilak. The Le-Matoran approached her with his arms behind his back, a curious expression on his emerald mask as he observed the life-sized statue that she was standing next to.
âI have to admit,â he said. âOut of everyone you could have chosen to build-make a statue of, Jador was the last person I would have expected.â
âHe saved my life, Defilak,â Hahli replied. âIf it werenât for him, I probably would have died and the Toa Mahri would have been short another member. And someone needed to teach the others how to swim.â
âFair point.â Defilak came to stand in front of the statue, scrutinizing it with his eyes. âI have to say, the Po-Matoran who sculpt-made this â Hafu was his name, wasnât it? â really got everything down to the last detail. He even sculpted that ever-weird mask of his.â
âHe had some help from some of the Matoran from your village,â Hahli admitted. âDonât bring it up to him, though. He can get pretty insecure about his work.â
âNoted.â After another moment, Defilak directed his attention back to the Toa of Water. âIn any case, it is an honor for you to have chosen one of our own to join your brothers and sisters on Memorial Beach. If it werenât for your request, Iâm sure Jador would have eventually quick-faded from everyoneâs memory. Now he has been immortalized forever here, standing among the likes of Toa Matoro and Turaga Lhikan.â
Hahli smiled sadly, looking over to the many other statues that stood watch over the beach. âTrust me, the honor is mine as well. Sometimes, heroes come from the most unexpected of places.â
âWe can agree on that, water-maiden,â Defilak said. He joined her in watching the sun set beyond the horizon, casting a golden glow across the Great Sea and onto the sculpture of Jadorâs misshapen mask.
Authorâs notes:
This short story was written to provide a name and backstory for the unnamed Ta-Matoran who rescued Toa Hahli in BIONICLE Ignition #6 (which was only published online rather than in print). His misshapen mask is a reference to how his mask looks like a Kiril in one panel and then a completely different mask in the next, leading it to being ârepurposedâ as the shape for the Mask of Emulation.
The last scene of the story is deliberately vague in how long it takes place after where the official story left off or whether the Velika/Marendar stuff is even still going on. While I donât have any plans for my own continuation of the storyline at the moment, I know for a fact that I would bring the Toa Mahri out of the Golden-Skinned Beingâs clutches and reunite them with everyone else, and also not kill any of them off. The Toa Mahri have suffered enough tragedies.
And, yes, thatâs an Attack of the Clones reference in the opening line. No, I have no regrets.