A/N: First place in the Ninjuly contest by NinjagoPunsPranksOrg.

. . .

The door to Lou's basement slowly creaked open and Cole stepped in. He stood on the landing and looked down at the stairs which descended away into darkness. Softly closing the door behind him, he made his way down, not bothered by the complete absence of light. His training required that he be able to work in the shadows so he had no trouble navigating through the dark.

His feet made no sound. Maybe it was because of the thick layer of dust and grime that coated the surface of the concrete steps or maybe only his soul floated over them. He had left his body in the world behind him; his father's house. He would always be a ghost in this basement, silent and quiet so as not to disturb the delicate memories this place stored. The delicate memories that brought him joy, happiness, regret and sorrow. The delicate memories of . . . her.

He hopped down from the last step and looked around the room. Though it was only two in the afternoon and the windows weren't covered, the basement was still partially dark due to the heavy clouds that loomed over Ninjago, shading the room grey. He had always seemed to like the dark. That way he could imagine that she was with him. But in brightness, he could clearly see that she wasn't there and no amount of pretending could contradict that fact.

He passed the wooden shelf that displayed paint cans, a deflated football, an old record player, his father's CD collection of classical music, lightbulbs, a toolbox and Christmas decorations. Not wanting to do anything with any of these things, he proceeded farther into the room but stopped short as his eye caught something behind the paint cans. His eyes now adjusted to the dark, he pushed aside the cans to reveal an old cardboard box on which was written in fading letters "Cole - 9 yrs old".

Careful not to topple over the metal paint containers, he pulled the box closer to the edge and heaved it off of the shelf. A cloud of dust erupted from it as he placed it on a nearby table under a grime coated window for more light. He waved his hand to clear away the dust, coughing and eyes watering. Looking inside, he saw all the toys and objects of value that belonged to him when his age was one year short from a decade. He smiled as he remembered that his father liked to keep everything in order. He'd organized all of Cole's belongings according to his age and put them in labeled boxes. The others must be around here somewhere.

Cole lowered his hand into the box and pulled out an old, picture frame. He tilted it and blew off the dust clinging to it. He squinted his eyes as he looked upon the yellowed picture of what looked like a school. Above the main doors, written in bold letters, were the words:
"Marty Oppenheimer School of Performing Arts".

There was a group of three on the entrance steps. The little boy, which he recognized as himself, had black and untidy hair and was wearing a kid-sized tuxedo and holding a glass plaque and a certificate. He was smiling broadly with the front tooth missing and a band-aid on one side of his jaw. On his right was his father; young, tall and handsome, also dressed in a tux and sporting a bow-tie. His moustache seemed to be curled up as he too was smiling from ear to ear, a hand on Cole's shoulder.

As his eyes roamed over to his left, his breath got caught in his throat. He now had to use his left hand as well to hold the frame as his right one was shaking. Kneeling beside him on the steps, kissing his cheek with arms around him in a hug, was his mother. Her copper-blonde hair were tied back into a ponytail. She was wearing a brown, leopard print blouse with black, skinny jeans and high heels.

Cole exhaled shakily and quickly put the picture back in the box. He closed his eyes and took in a few breathes, trying to regain his composure. He remembered that day perfectly. His school had hosted a dancing contest and his quartet had won. His parents had been extremely proud and so was he. Back then, he used to enjoy dancing. Why? Because of her. His mother, Lilly, always had a way to make him learn all the steps. His teachers, try as they might, never succeeded in improving his dancing. But she did. He loved those afternoons when the both of them would go out to the terrace with the CD player where his mom would dance flawlessly and teach him to do it. All the credit of that day at the contest went to his mother.

But that was the last celebration he ever had with her before she went away, leaving him and his dad alone. They had been working on the Triple Tiger Sashay but he never got the chance to master it. He forgot every single thing she taught him and became hopeless at dancing again. He despised it from then on and took on another hobby his mom liked; interacting with the earth in any way possible. Be it climbing tall and rough mountains or dancing all alone in the rain, barefooted, he had to feel the earth, he had to feel his mother.

He didn't want to look in the box anymore as he was sure it was going to be painful. Any memory of an event before his ninth year in this world was painful because it contained her. Walking away from the table, he started to look around for the very thing he came down here for. Today was his mother's tenth death anniversary and this was the sixth time he was coming down here to do what he had been doing on this day every year since his mother passed.
He stopped as he saw a dusty, black grand piano.

There it is, he thought.

Another one of his mother's hobbies was to play the piano. She played it beautifully and had also taught it to him. Yes. Cole, the Master of Earth, former wielder of the Scythe of Quakes and big brother to the Green Ninja knew how to play the piano.
He didn't want to admit it but he was shy about it. He had never told the others but it was mostly because this was between him and his mom only. His father had a little share in the secret since he did used to sing along but it was mainly mother and son.

His legs were shaking slightly as he dusted off the nearby stool and quickly sat down on it lest his knees should give way. He stared at the black and white keys for a minute, his mother's memory bringing tears in his eyes. He raised a hand and pressed one of the white keys at the far end. A high-pitched note sounded. He pushed one at the middle to produce a deep sounding note that reverberated through the silent basement. Ignoring the dust that was getting stuck on his sweaty fingers, he took a deep breath and began playing that one tune his mother used to play all the time. He remembered how her fingers gently flew over the keys, coaxing out soothing and sweet melodies from the instrument. She also sang a song along with it which he loved for some reason. Maybe because it was his mother's favourite.

Even though his lips were dry and his tongue was parched, he opened his mouth and slowly sang with the tune:

"Why does the rain fall down drop by drop;
Like tragedies of life, it never stops"

His mind dwelled on the memory of a particular night when she was playing and singing on this very piano which was kept in the living room at that time and he was sitting on the sofa beside it.

. . .

"You know what, Mom? I really enjoy it when you play the piano. It's like magic."

His mother smiled one of her beautiful smiles that sent warmth throughout his body. "Should I play some more then?"

He nodded excitedly, his black locks bouncing on his head. She cleared her throat once more, singing in her heavenly voice.

"Why do these tears roll down drop by drop;
The pricking of thorns in my heart, it won't stop.

I really don't know if you recognize;
All of those dreams that were lost in the night ;
Now it's hard to forget those forgotten lies.

Why does the rain fall down drop by drop;
Like tragedies of life, it never stops."

She started humming as she caressed the piano keys with her elegant fingers, her eyes closed. She seemed completely lost in it and so was he. She continued.

"My heart is dancing and singing to me:
'Leave behind the world and follow;'
As I chased after my beating guide;
I tripped over my broken tomorrow.

Unanswered queries;
Why do they laught at me;
Nights are lonely;
When my fears attack me;
Forgotten memories;
Always seem to lose me;
Heart breaking stories;
Are recited to me;

I really don't know if you recognize;
All of those dreams that were lost in the night;
Now it's hard to forget those forgotten lies.

Why does the rain fall down drop by drop;
Like tragedies of life, it never stops."

She stopped singing as he clapped his hands loudly. She smiled again.
"Thank you very much, Mr Brookstone!" She exclaimed playfully, bowing.

"Mom? Why do you always play this song? Don't you know any others?"

"Oh, I do. It's just that this song was my mother's favourite and she used to sing it to me every night. I too loved the song and still do so I decided to carry on the tradition."

She looked at him with her dark brown eyes.

"Did you like it?"

. . .

"Very much," Cole sobbed.

He tickled the ivories, silent tears rolling down his face. It had been ten years and he still remembered the words. Still remembered how to play the instrument. Though sad, these words soothed him every night. He played this tune every year on this day before he became a ninja five years ago. The day which crumbled his life like a mountain unable to stand. His fingers trembled as he pressed the keys in a pattern which fashioned itself into music. The sky thundered outside and the rain slashed against the basement windows as he played his memeroies.

His voice quavered as he sang and his tears washed away the dusty keys. He couldn't do it anymore. His fingers, now shaking uncontrollably, swept over the black and white pieces in an unmelodious manner. It wasn't fair. Why was his mother taken from him at such a young age? Couldn't Destiny wait till he was old enough? His house used to be filled with music but ever since she left, that music seemed dull and meaningless. It just brought back painful memories. He bent his head and cried loudly, banging the keys to drown out his sobs. He created noisy reverberations that would surely carry up to his father. And they did.

Lou threw open the basement door, startled by the unearthly piano sounds coming from below. He ran down the stairs and turned to the right where he could make out his son's trembling silhouette in the dark, crying and hitting the piano keys violently.

"Son! What's wrong?!"

He rushed forward and hugged him, pressing his son's face into his chest. Cole hugged back, and since he was sitting, he put his arms around his father's waist.

"Shh. It's alright, my son. Please, stop crying," Lou pleaded, caressing Cole's black hair.

"Why did she have to leave, Dad? Why?!" came his muffled cry as he buried his face into his father's chest.

Lou tried hard to keep the tears from falling but failed. He had loved her so much and not a single day passed when he wouldn't think of her.
"It's okay. I'm here with you."

Cole kept crying, unable to control his emotions. "Why doesn't it stop?"

"What ... what doesn't stop?"

"The rain!"

Lou looked through the window at the storm outside, knowing what his son meant. What his wife had always meant.

Why does the rain fall down drop by drop? Like tragedies of life, it never stops.

Why does sorrow fall like the rain, one blow after the other?

A/N: Here it is. It's a bit sad but I really wanted to write this. BTW, Lilly's song is inspired from another one I heard but I completely changed and rewrote the lyrics so it's mine. Sort of.