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She realizes when she’s standing on the bounty, amongst the people who trusted her, laughing and eating their meal despite the fate of Ninjago in their hands. The map lays on the table and she’s itching for them to speak up on where they need to go before the lights go out. The one in black is feeding the baby tea, the ones in blue and red are visibly glad the child has stopped crying. The map isn’t part of the discussion.
It should be annoying, hearing them talk about everything except what she needs them to, and it is to an extent. She’s feeling something she shouldn’t be feeling, something she hadn't planned in all her years locked away. Like she wanted to laugh with them even though she already was laughing. They were so different from the villains she’d imagined them as a child, they spoke with such naivety, like children. Making jokes at a time like this? The feeling goes away as soon as Lloyd places a finger on the map, bringing their attention to it at last.
She feels it again on the monorail when Lloyd is in her grasp and the remains of the Bounty come crashing down into the city. She feels more powerful than ever, but so is that feeling. She doesn’t even want to put a name to it. She knows something has to change.
Lloyd jumps off the moving train, looking back only once with a look one could only call hatred, but not quite. For some reason, she doesn’t relish it as much as she should. While she stares at the little canoe he lands on, she makes up her mind. She changes something.
And suddenly, the ninja dying, the boy she broke, none of it seems to give her that feeling anymore. It all seems okay now. She’s fine. Each of the ninja’s faces flashes through her mind, the chaotic passing of the baby to avoid having to deal with its crying, the warm look Nya gives her when fixing up the white one’s bike. None of it gives her the feeling.
Good.
‘The ninja killed my parents,’
It's a reminder, it's her justification. Her new reason.
Her excuse.