Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She awoke to the sound of muffled shouts coming from outside, the crack of a combustion blast overhead and ice shattering. An explosion lit up the night sky through her window and the entire building shook around her. Plaster fell from the ceiling, coating her face and making everything taste like chalk. Her eyes stung as acrid smoke billowed into the room and made her nostrils flare, her skin pulled taut as dust mingled with the tears falling down her cheeks.

A figure limped into view, stumbling just inside the doorway as her legs gave out. Her mother yanked her upright in bed and gripped her by the shoulders—ice blue eyes filled with panic meeting her own.

“Korra, sweetheart, look at me!”

She sat frozen in place, the ringing in her ears drowning out the screams and sounds of fracturing earth coming from the hall.

Her mother's face tightened in a forced smile. “It’s gonna be okay, but right now I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me, my little polar bear dog?”

She nodded, too frightened to speak. Her eyes darted upward as her uncle appeared in the doorway, his chest heaving. His hair was singed on one side, and a trickle of blood ran across his temple and down his neck before seeping into his tunic, a slowly growing black stain in the low light.

Her mother reached into her lap and gripped her hands tight enough to hurt. “Go with Uncle Ghazan, he'll take you somewhere safe. It's going to be okay, Aana^[1] loves you.”

Her mouth moved uselessly, the words caught in her throat. Her arms hung heavy against her sides as the big man picked her up off the bed and pulled her tight against his chest. Looking back over his shoulder, she briefly caught her mother's eyes before he turned and ran with her down the hall, barely dodging falling beams as the roof began to cave in. Her father bellowed from somewhere behind them, his voice cracking with pain.

“I’ll hold them off, take Korra and go!”

Chapter Text

“Korra, Korra!”

She snapped awake in a rush of vertigo, blood pounding in her ears. Her awareness returned slowly, starting from behind her eyes and then gradually spreading down through the rest of her body. Constricting heat in her chest marked the return of a familiar panic as she struggled to free herself from the sheets clinging to her, now twisted and soaked through with sweat.

Her vision began to adjust, sleep’s haze fading to the periphery. She turned her head and started as she made out eyes the color of cinnabar in the dark. Nazra knelt by her bedroll, shoulders tight with worry. She’d clearly been jolted from sleep; Korra felt an all too common pang of guilt. Nazra’s lips curled in a thin smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Wiry black hair fell down across her forehead, obscuring her tattoo.

Korra stumbled over words as she attempted to speak, to explain even though this was only the latest in a long string of sleepless nights. “I... I was back at the camp. I could hear him again, right before...”

Korra tried and failed to stave off the panic returning as old sensations rose unbidden from memory, threatening to submerge her once again. The sound of the room around her grew shallow and distant and she felt her chest tightening.

“Hey, hey! Korra, over here, look at me!” Nazra shook her gently. “It’s okay, you’re here, we’re safe. No one can hurt you here. Breathe, remember what mom taught you.”

Nazra grabbed her shoulder and squeezed as the words began to register. Korra responded with a weak nod before pulling herself upright, still shaking uncontrollably. She shivered as the thin layer of sweat on her skin cooled in the night air.

Nazra climbed around her, inadvertently elbowing her in the ribs as she draped the blanket over them both. Korra winced, her adoptive sister was somehow in the midst of yet another growth spurt, it was like being cuddled by a particularly clumsy stick insect. Even so, she couldn't help but be calmed by the touch.

Nazra’s chest expanded and contracted in steady rhythm behind her, coaxing hers to match. “From your core, steady breaths—one... and out, two... and in, three...”

Korra felt the tension leave only to be replaced almost immediately by a wave of fatigue. Her breath hitched as she collapsed into deep, gasping sobs.

Nazra began to rub gentle circles on her back. “Oh sis, I’m so sorry.”

Korra pulled away and turned to face her. Guilt returned with a vengeance when she saw the exhaustion plain on Nazra’s face, moonlight highlighting the bags under her eyes.

Korra’s head dropped and she found herself unable to look at her, afraid to see her own weariness and disappointment reflected back. “Y–you should really get your own room, I can’t keep waking you up like this.”

To Korra’s surprise, Nazra just smirked at her and responded with an ungainly snort. “You think you’re bad? I could be stuck with Ming-Hua and Ghazan, spirits' know what they get up to.”

She made an awful gagging noise in emphasis and Korra couldn’t help but grin. “You just know he’s into tentacles.”

Nazra groaned. “Now I need to go rinse out my eyes with lye water, thanks for that.”

Korra forced herself to smile in a weak attempt to hide just how badly she was shaken up. Nazra clearly wasn’t fooled, the corner of her lip quirked up along with her eyebrow.

Nazra looked pensive for a moment before reaching forward to clasp Korra’s hands. The pressure of her grip was reassuring, grounding in a way Korra desperately needed. “Why don’t we go up to the top of the dome and get some fresh air, yeah?”

Korra nodded in assent, too tired to argue. She haphazardly dragged on a pair of trousers and her overcoat before following Nazra out of the room they shared and across the courtyard to the edge of the dome. They ducked below the massive metal hinge and Nazra shifted aside so Korra could bend open the lock on the access hatch underneath. Korra remembered a time before they had to squeeze through to fit, the thrill and excitement of being twelve-year-olds sneaking around in the dead of night.

The passageway opened out onto a small lip at the dome’s base. A long row of handholds stretched out into the night above them, eventually disappearing behind the curve of the dome. The metal was cold and slippery with the morning frost. Nazra went up first, counting on Korra's metalbending to catch them should either slip and fall.

Somehow they’d both managed to forget gloves—Korra concentrated on her inner flame, expanding it and pushing it outward from her core and down into her hands in an attempt to keep the freezing rungs from tearing at the skin of her palms. She saw telltale wisps of steam above her as Nazra did the same.

Eventually the slope leveled out and they found themselves at the apex of the small dome, staring out across the rice paddies. The great dome of the city rose from the valley floor below them, erupting from the ground like some unearthly iridescent flower. The sheer scale of it never failed to fill Korra with a sense of awe—even here, atop a dome far up the valley’s slope, they were only just level with its peak.

They wrapped themselves in the blanket Nazra had slung over her shoulders and leaned back against each other in the early morning light. Korra took a long, deep breath. “It’s beautiful.”

Nazra smiled, a far off look in her eyes. “It is. Seven years and I still haven’t gotten used to waking up somewhere knowing I’ll still be there the next night.”

Korra tensed beside her and Nazra flinched, realizing her mistake immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—” she stuttered.

Korra closed her eyes and pressed her palms flat against the dome. She reached out with her qì to ground herself, her sense expanding along the metal of the massive curved panels below them. Her breath slowly returned to a normal rhythm, accompanied by the familiar tinge of embarrassment and frustration at being set off by something so minor.

She sighed. “It’s okay, it just... it still somehow feels so raw, you know? It’s like I close my eyes and I’m right back there.”

Korra could remember the dunes, the sand whipping against her face like a thousand tiny pinpricks; panic permeating the air as they fled deep into the desert; the way she had clung desperately around Ghazan’s neck and buried her face in hair that stank of smoke and blood and sweat. She recalled the terror she felt when she saw P’Li limp in Ming-Hua’s arms, a dark blotch seeping through the strips of fabric wrapped loosely around her head. Zaheer had walked beside her, his eyes distant and face entirely blank, one hand on Ming-Hua’s back to steady her and the other clutching Nazra’s as if she were the last thing tethering him to this world.

The months that followed passed in a blur as they travelled sunrise to sunset, never spending a night in the same place twice. She remembered the fear in Ghazan’s eyes, his tone level and serious as he sat the two girls down and told them that if anything were to happen, they should run and not look back.

The shock of the first few days subsided only to be replaced by the horrible realization that aana and aata^[1] were gone and weren’t coming back. It settled in her gut like a freezing stone, pinning her to the ground and crushing her will to keep going.

She’d cried incessantly for days, screaming herself hoarse as she begged the spirits to return them to her. It was an overwhelming kind of melancholy, one that left nothing untouched, not even her memories. The stench of loss seemed to reach back in time and taint everything she had left of them.

The adults around her looked at her with a knowing sadness in their eyes that made her gut clench and recoil in fury. She refused to speak and barely ate, emerging from her tent only when it was time to move again.

Nazra alone dared to venture in, the only company Korra would tolerate. She was a constant quiet presence, never speaking as she folded out the Pai Sho board between them. They played by candlelight, Korra unable to care as she lost game after game so long as it distracted her from the ragged hole just torn in her life.

Nazra’s gentle nudging and the cold air sweeping up the dome brought her back to the present.

“Hey, it looked like you drifted away there for a bit.”

“Yeah…” Korra shrugged, deflating as she paused to think. “I just feel... stuck, I guess. I need to be doing something, not just wasting time training, too scared to leave a stupid metal dome in the middle of nowhere. I feel like a coward, they’d hate me if they could see me like this.”

Nazra grabbed her arm, forcing Korra to look at her. “Korra, it doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, they could never hate you, ever.”

Korra flinched, still trying to ignore the voice in the back of her head repeating the same words over and over.

Useless, disappointment, failure, coward.

She absentmindedly fiddled with the edge of the blanket and tried to ignore the stinging in her eyes. “I just feel like a failure, the Avatar that ran away.”

Nazra jolted away from her so suddenly that Korra had to put out a hand to steady herself. She looked at her, exasperated. “Korra, you’re not a failure. We’re just kids! Nobody expects you to be out there saving the world as a teenager.”

“But Aang—”

Nazra snapped. “Fuck Aang! Only you would be hard-headed enough to feel bad about not saving the world as a literal child! They used to not even tell the Avatar who they were until they were sixteen!" She was shouting now. “Why do you think your parents did all of this! They wanted you to have a chance to grow up before the world got thrown on your shoulders. They gave their lives so you wouldn’t be turned into somebody’s weapon, so don’t you dare feel bad about it.”

Korra stared at her, too shocked to respond. She should be furious, should shout and yell, but she felt the anger wilt and die within her.

Nazra was still breathing heavily and clenching her jaw, bracing for a response. When she received nothing but silence, she exhaled deeply and gave Korra a sheepish look, the apology passing unspoken between them.

Korra responded by collapsing onto Nazra’s shoulder in numb exhaustion. They sat in silence as the first rays of sun crested the mountains, listening to the metal beneath them pop and groan as it warmed in the morning air.

Nazra was the first to break the quiet. “How are you not freezing?”

Korra attempted a smile. “Perks of being a hothead I guess.”

“She says to the combustionbender.” Nazra responded, looking mildly chagrined.

Korra stuck out her tongue in response, somehow feeling lighter in spite of what had just transpired between them. “We should go down. They’ll be opening the dome soon, and your mom will kill us if she finds out we snuck up here again.”

“Since when are you the responsible one?” Nazra looked at Korra and arched her brow.

Korra shrugged. “Since never, but your mom’s glares can melt steel.”

Nazra rolled her eyes and scoffed at her. “Ha, very funny. Besides, she’s not the one you need to worry about today. Don’t you have training with Ming-Hua?”

Korra groaned, feeling a familiar sense of dread. Ming-Hua would have her doing tentacle forms again, and the last time they’d trained armless she’d ended up upside down and frozen up to her neck. Twice.

“Always a bright new day to get my ass kicked.” Korra chuckled, offering Nazra her hand as they stood. Try as she might, she couldn’t hide a faint smile as they started the climb down.

They'd made it halfway across the courtyard when they heard the shouting coming from the study.

Zaheer ground his teeth as he paced back and forth in the middle of the room. The object of his consternation leaned against his desk, looking at him with righteous indignation. Arms locked across her chest, she stared at him with a level of judgement that would make lesser people cower behind furniture. It never ceased to amaze him—for someone he trusted and considered a friend, Suyin Beifong nevertheless managed to be the single most infuriating human being alive.

She scowled. “Zaheer, see reason! You can’t honestly expect me to support this.”

Sighing, he made a conscious effort to remember his breathing exercises. “You took us in and gave us a place to raise the children in safety, and for that we will be forever grateful. But we can’t remain hidden here forever, and you can’t keep ignoring the world beyond this valley.”

Suyin pushed herself forward off his desk and threw up her arms in exasperation, rounding on him.

“And what exactly would you have me do? The Earth Queen tolerates our presence only so long as we continue to feign neutrality. If she ever gets word that we’re not only harboring a handful of her most wanted fugitives, but also the spirits-forsaken Avatar, can you imagine what will happen?”

Zaheer could, quite well in fact. They discussed it rather regularly. So regularly that the other inhabitants of the dome had taken to treating their shouting matches over Zaofu’s isolationism as a source of dreary entertainment. Ghazan had even created a little scoreboard for them at one point, it had hung outside the study for all of two days before Suyin destroyed it in a fit of pique.

Geopolitical frustrations aside, he still couldn’t understand why Suyin objected so strenuously to this plan. Surely it would be less of a risk to Zaofu if the Avatar were to leave?

He locked eyes with her, regarding her neutrally while still maintaining absolute conviction in his tone. Wavering on his part would cause her to strike faster than a mongoose-dragon scenting a particularly tasty bit of prey. “Even so, my other point still stands. Surely as her metalbending instructor you must agree that Korra needs to master all four elements if she is ever to realize her destiny as the Avatar. That includes mastering airbending, and she cannot do that here.”

As expected, Suyin sidestepped his point entirely. “And her destiny is something for you to dictate now is it, Zaheer? She’s just a seventeen-year-old girl, for fuck’s sake! She’s no older than Nazra... can you imagine tossing her to the horrors waiting beyond these walls?”

He knew that Suyin was just trying to bait him, but Zaheer still found himself shaking with rage. Everything he had done these past eighteen years had been to keep Nazra and Korra safe from harm, and for her to imply otherwise…

“Leave my daughter out of this.” He growled.

Suyin snapped at him, her gaze sharpening to a stiletto point. “Why, so you can pretend that Korra is an exception, and that you’re not using her as a tool, as a weapon just as the White Lotus would have? Is that what Tonraq and Senna would have wanted?”

That was too far. Zaheer stopped and turned back towards her, his voice dangerously calm.

“You should know by now how I feel, how we feel, about using children as weapons.” He glanced over at P’Li, who was now looking at Suyin with an expression of quiet fury from her position by the window.

He stepped forward into Suyin's space, tilting his head up to meet her gaze.

Zaheer spoke quietly and with deadly certainty. “I swore to them and I will swear again to you, I will never force Korra to do anything against her will. She is like a daughter to us, and I would lay down my life to keep her from harm.”

Suyin opened her mouth to interject, but whatever look she was receiving from P’Li caused the words to die in the back of her throat.

Zaheer didn’t dare glance away, instead continuing without pause. “She is also the Avatar, and that role is greater than all of us. All we can do is train her so she can protect herself from those who would harm her and hope that we’ve taught her well enough to make her own decisions when the time comes.

“If it were up to me, Korra would be free to learn at own pace, but we both know that circumstance makes a laughingstock of even the best intentions." He paused. "As you once put it so eloquently, Su, 'the heavens don’t give two shits about our desires.'"

Zaheer sighed, pinching his brow. "Harmonic Convergence is little more than a year away, and if Korra is to use that one, and as I must remind you, only chance to restore balance between the Spirit World and ours, she must communicate with the spirit of light that resides within her. She will need the Avatar State to do so, and for that she must master all four elements, including airbending.

Suyin was becoming impatient, she was clearly irritated by his condescension. Good.

He pressed on, ignoring the way P'Li's eyebrow twitched in warning. “And as you well know, that is not something she can accomplish here. I have studied much and tried to pass on what knowledge I possess, but I am no airbender, let alone an airbending master.”

Suyin conceded the point, though not without a characteristic scowl. She raised her eyebrows at him and asked in a mocking lilt, “so then, tell me o wisest one, how exactly do you plan on recruiting an airbending master for her? You’re just gonna waltz onto Air Temple Island past two dozen White Lotus guards and say, ‘greetings Tenzin, here’s the Avatar, would you be so good as to train her for us?’”

At least she’d moved on from demeaning his character to insulting his intelligence. With Suyin, that was practically progress.

Zaheer glanced over at P’Li, only to find her wearing the particular dark look that meant she was rapidly reaching the end of her patience.

“Tenzin is not the only airbending master,” he replied.

Suyin rolled her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently. “And what makes you think Tsomo will be any more sympathetic to our cause than her father? Not to mention what will happen if my dearest sister gets wind of this...”

Zaheer had only moments to savor the look of genuine dread on Suyin’s face at the thought of Lin Beifong's wrath when P’Li decided she’d finally had it with their petty squabbling.

“Enough, both of you!” She stepped forward, putting herself between them. Small flames flared from her palms in a very clear warning. She turned her back to Zaheer, staring down her nose at Suyin. Su at least had the good sense to look genuinely cowed.

P’Li’s tone brooked no argument. “Unless you can come up with a better plan, Su, we’re done here. We're leaving for Republic City, and it's your choice whether you decide to support us or not.”

Suyin's face closed off in obvious frustration, but she didn't object. Zaheer sighed in resignation, taking P’Li’s cue to leave. They’d made it halfway to the door when Suyin cleared her throat behind him. He glanced back to see her leaning back on his desk, her lips once again twisted in a small smirk.

“Oh and Zaheer? Don’t worry about how you'll tell the kids, they’ve been listening outside the door for the last fifteen minutes.”

He closed his eyes.

Ah, shit.

If it were just Nazra this might be salvageable, but Korra… He was suddenly thankful that neither Suyin nor P’Li could see the look of pure dread on his face at the prospect of facing both girls.

Sure enough, he and P’Li slid the door back only to find Korra and Nazra frozen against the wall, staring at them like catdeer caught in the lamplight.

Of the four, Nazra regained her composure first. Her voice was tight with bairly-contained excitement. “So, is it true?”

Zaheer took a very deep breath. “Yes, but—”

“WOOHOO YES!” Korra jumped up and almost bowled over into Nazra in excitement, earning a smack on the shoulder from the taller girl.

Zaheer once again reminded himself to breathe. “I know you’re very excited, but there is still much we need to discuss. I promise we will tell you everything at dinner tonight. But for now you both have practice, do you not?” He asked, in the 'stern father figure' voice he'd never quite managed to make sound convincing.

Korra looked at him for only a second before breaking into a grin and bounding off along the hallway, making punching motions in the air.

All three watched her go. P’Li gave Nazra an unreadable look and nodded stiffly to Zaheer before walking off towards the kitchen.

His daughter raised an eyebrow at him. “She’s really mad, isn’t she?”

Zaheer gave her a helpless shrug. “You could say that.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but Zaheer trapped her with an inquisitive glance. “So, what was it the two of you were doing so early in the morning? You, I can understand, but we both know Korra’s never awake before the tenth hour if she can help it.”

Nazra deflated, avoiding his eyes. “She had another nightmare, the third this week.”

“Ah.”

Zaheer knew they’d been getting worse. Korra was incredibly reluctant to talk about them with anyone, least of all her adoptive parents, but even he had noticed Korra's tendency to stare blankly out into space when she thought no one was watching and the ever-deepening circles beneath her eyes. If there was anyone who knew what Korra was going through, it would be Nazra, which made her current look of worry all the more concerning.

Nazra fidgeted with her thumb, shifting from heel to heel before looking down at him. “Dad, she’s not ready for this.”

Zaheer sighed. “I know.”

Nazra’s frown only deepened. "She's still struggling, it all still seems so present for her. I’m scared of what will happen when she's forced to confront all the feelings she keeps pushing down. She’s not ready to be her own Avatar, let alone anyone else’s."

Zaheer's shoulders sagged in resignation, he knew where this conversation was going. “Her power is her burden alone. We can love her and try to support her, but ultimately only she can find a way to live with it.”

Nazra chewed on her lip. "I just wish we could stay here a bit longer, maybe with enough meditation—"

Zaheer let out a chuckle at that. “Some of us learn through contemplation, others through action. Despite my best efforts, your sister will never be the former. Balance is something she must learn for herself, only life can teach her.”

Nazra seemed to consider that for a moment before pulling herself fully upright and turning to face him, the top of his head now barely level with her chin. How she'd grown... he fondly remembered the days when he could still ruffle her hair underneath his arm.

“Well if she’s going to do this, I’m coming.” Her eyes were all fire and fierce determination. Despite herself, P'Li would be proud.

Zaheer suppressed a flinch. He’d been dreading this moment for months, years if he was honest with himself. “Nazra, we’ve had this conversation—”

“No!” She snapped. “I want to be with my family, and I’m not staying behind while you all throw yourselves into danger. If Korra’s old enough to go, so am I.”

“What about your plans to study with the Fire Sages?” Zaheer knew it was a feeble attempt doomed to failure, but one can’t fault a father for trying.

“The temple will still be there when we get back. It’s my choice, and I’d like to see you try and stop me.” Nazra stepped closer, shoulders level with his eyes. She looked down at him with cold resolve, and he knew the argument was lost before it had even begun.

He relented, feeling a familiar mix of exasperation and affection. He gave her a wan smile. “You are so very much like your mother sometimes.”

Kuvira’s fingers flitted nervously over the straps to her chestplate as she walked behind Suyin up towards the small dome on the outskirts of Zaofu. It was a nervous tic, one she’d developed shortly after joining the city guard and had for the most part managed to suppress in the three years since. Then again, today had already been anything but ordinary. Suyin’s words still rang in her ears.

”I don’t like this plan, but there’s no one else I can trust.”

She didn’t like it either. The inhabitants of the dome were perhaps Zaofu’s best kept secret—no one beyond Suyin’s immediate family and a few trusted others knew who, or perhaps more importantly, what lay behind its walls.

Kuvira didn’t need to be told how essential it was for it to stay that way. Hidden within that dome was the Avatar herself, the Water Tribe girl who had vanished from the South Pole without a trace mere weeks after her discovery thirteen years ago.

Since then the Avatar had become little more than a legend, the subject of idle debate at dinner parties and drunken tavern speculation. Some claimed she’d been trapped in the ice like her predecessor, others that she’d been abducted by Koh in revenge for the last Water Tribe Avatar’s transgressions. Kuvira’s favorite was the rumor that she’d somehow been stripped of her memories and now lived a simple life as an actor for the Ember Island Players.

But even the most outlandish theories paled in comparison to the truth. Not only was she alive and well, she was in the care of perhaps the single most notorious group of criminals alive, anarchist terrorists responsible for a string of assassinations and uprisings that rocked the Earth Kingdom to its core twenty years ago.

Well, at least that’s what Her Hypoallergenic Majesty Hou-Ting called them—they were something altogether different to the people living outside the Upper Ring. Kuvira herself idolized them growing up, enthralled by the tales of a talented band of rogues who made it their mission to free her people from the clutches of warlords and the whims of petty despots.

Rogues who had somehow become the adoptive parents of the spirits-damned Avatar. Kuvira knew little of the circumstances surrounding their arrival in Zaofu, only that the girl’s parents had been killed and they were being hunted by a powerful and well-connected group that had appointed themselves the Avatar's guardians in the wake of her predecessor’s death.

Even knowing the colossal danger it must have posed, she wasn’t surprised that Suyin had offered them asylum. For all her many faults, her mentor had never once wavered in her commitment to Zaofu’s founding principles. Her unwillingness to compromise and penchant for taking in political refugees had made them something of an international pariah, the post-revolution Fire Nation their only remaining trading partner and ally. But even Fire Lord Izumi and the Central Committee would only tolerate so much...

This plan for instance, it represented an entirely new level of risk. Harboring these people right under the Earth Queen’s nose was bad enough, but to aid them in infiltrating a sovereign state… A chill ran down Kuvira's spine as she thought of what would happen if their actions were ever traced back to Zaofu.

Kuvira had a hunch about what sort of actions those might be. She didn’t for one second buy Zaheer’s kindly mentor act. Even Suyin could recognize the Red Lotus weren’t being entirely forthright about their reasons for traveling to the United Republic, they had grander plans than just some didactic excursion. It was why she’d offered for Kuvira to accompany them, ostensibly for the Avatar’s protection. Suyin didn’t need to state Kuvira’s real purpose—she was to act as her eyes and ears in the city, and to intervene on her behalf should the group’s plans threaten the interests of Zaofu.

And therein lay her current problem. Kuvira was no longer sure if Zaofu's interests aligned with her own.

Inevitably, her thoughts drifted back to that fateful council meeting six months past. Zaofu had received reports of a warlord terrorizing the provinces to their north, burning villages and killing livestock, conscripting the men and even the children, and as for the rest…

Awash in righteous fury, Kuvira had begged Suyin and the council to let her take a small force and hunt him down, but Su had adamantly refused. She’d repeated the mantra Kuvira had come to know like a curse.

“Unless threatened, Zaofu does not intervene in the affairs of others.”

Kuvira had called her a coward in front of the entire council—she could still feel the lingering ghost of Suyin’s backhand across her cheek. Su had come to her room later that night and tearfully begged her forgiveness, only to then make a show of forgiving her in front of the council the following day for her “misguided” statements. They somehow still managed to present a united front in public, but the rift between them only grew as Kuvira’s bitterness continued to fester.

It certainly didn’t help that every report from the broader Earth Kingdom brought back unwanted memories of her childhood in the Lower Ring. Her stomach would clench as she recalled the awful, tacky heat of summer, the sickly-sweet smell of death and sick in the streets.

She remembered the noblewoman who’d pulled back the curtain of her palanquin to leer at their distended bellies, her cruel laughter as they scrambled in the mud to retrieve the handful of coins she’d tossed at them. So much death and misery, all of it pointless.

But not here. Suyin had done the impossible—she’d built a city without poverty, without hunger or prisons. How could the woman who created something like this be content to watch the rest of the world burn?

The thought made her laugh bitterly to herself, she more than anyone knew the limits of Su’s compassion. Suyin had saved her from the streets, gave her quarters in her home and taught her alongside her own children, but she was never truly one of them, never more than a ward, an asset-in-training. As a child, Kuvira never failed to notice the emotional distance Suyin always maintained around her, the way she never afforded her the affection she seemed to shower so freely on her own flesh and blood.

She was a metalbending prodigy to rival Toph Beifong herself, the youngest ever Guard Captain and the trusted protégé of the Matriarch of Zaofu, but she was no one’s daughter.

Still, even the prospect of leaving filled her with a sharp pang of regret. She thought of Opal, who had braided her hair that morning with such gentleness, of Wing and Wei’s endless antics, of Bataar Jr.’s bickering and Huan’s pretentious nonsense. She wouldn’t miss much about this place, but she would miss them.

She was getting ahead of herself. If she were to leave and try to join the Red Lotus, would they even accept her? Her very station made her a target of suspicion. Zaheer was perhaps the only person in Zaofu who disagreed with Su as adamantly as she did, but he remained largely unaware of her dissent. She would need to earn their trust, but how?

And if she failed, then what would she be? An orphan twice over, rootless, stateless, adrift without anywhere to go or anyone to turn to.

Kuvira scoffed despite her unease. How very maudlin, she thought.

They were almost at the dome now. The light of the setting sun shone down on the valley, bathing the steel of Zaofu’s domes in a golden glow. For a moment they looked as if they were alight with orange fire.

As the light struck her, she felt something harden deep within her chest. She could no longer tolerate the thought of standing back and doing nothing. Turning against Suyin would strip her of the only home she had ever known, but she reminded herself that it had never truly been hers in the first place. Her shoulders locked as she felt a familiar sense of resolve wash over her, the buzzing calm before action. She would go out beyond these domes, and she would bring justice for her people.

The mood at dinner was subdued, the usually boisterous group solemn and tense. Kuvira couldn’t help but notice that aside from Suyin, she was the only person from Zaofu present.

“So, when do we leave?” The Avatar broke the silence, grinning at Zaheer from across the room. The tall girl next to her (what was it, Naga? Nazra?) choked on her rice.

Zaheer pinched his brow in frustration. “I was hoping we’d have a chance to discuss this further before making final arrangements, but seeing as there’s no point now we might as well just go over the plan as it stands.”

Kuvira arched an eyebrow. Well well, dinner and a show…

Zaheer faced Korra as he spoke, even as he made a point to project his voice for everyone present. “We leave Zaofu for Republic City at the end of the week. Korra and I will travel down into the city, where Suyin has rented us an apartment under a false name. Kuvira here will accompany us.”

Zaheer gave her a small nod from across the table, his dark eyes betraying a certain wariness—not that she could really blame him for it. To them she was still Su’s pet, if this was going to work she’d have to find a way to change that.

“Ming-Hua, Ghazan, Nazra, and P’Li will be traveling with us as well, but they’ll be staying outside the city so as not to draw unwanted attention.” He added, presumably for her benefit.

Kuvira found herself mildly surprised at the inclusion of the combustionbender’s daughter. From what few interactions she'd had with her, the girl seemed to be a study in contradictions—horrific power coupled with almost surprising gentleness and naïveté. She had none of her mother’s inherent intimidation, and was much more monk than fighter. Hadn’t she been planning to go study with the Fire Sages?

As usual, she had barely a moment to her own thoughts before the conversation was derailed by the resident lavabending idiot.

“What, no crash pad for the lava dad?” Ghazan asked, smirking. Korra snorted and Ming-Hua stifled a groan.

Her petty jabs aside, Kuvira had a certain fondness for the lavabender. He was a much-needed respite from Su’s sanctimony and Zaheer’s po-faced seriousness. Speaking of which…

“After how our last time in Republic City went, can you fault me for being cautious?” Zaheer gave him a scolding look that might’ve actually worked on someone else.

“Come on Zaheer, that wasn’t my fault!” Ghazan crossed his arms, his attempt at indignation betrayed by the start of a grin.

P'Li raised a single eyebrow. “You tried to assassinate Toph Beifong, in broad daylight, immediately outside police headquarters.”

Kuvira let out a very uncharacteristic snort. Oh, she really needed to hear that story someday.

Ghazan shrugged, waving his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, so it may not have been my best idea.”

“She threw a satomobile at you.” P'Li added without apparent inflection.

He snorted in response. “Several satomobiles, and I dodged them! Well, most of them...”

Ming-Hua cut in, waving an ice blade at him in a way that might've been affectionate scolding if it weren't so inherently terrifying. “You know I love you, but I’m not breaking you out of prison a fourth time, idiot.”

Ghazan sagged back dramatically. “Fine, be a spoilsport.”

Giving Ghazan her best “knock it off” glare, P’Li stepped in and seamlessly continued their review of the plan. Kuvira idly wondered if she and Zaheer had practiced delivering it together.

Who was she kidding? Of course they had.

“As Zaheer was saying, once we’re established ourselves, we’ll try to get in contact with Master Tsomo, Master Tenzin’s daughter. From what we’ve heard from sources in the city—"

“She means gossip rags,” Ming-Hua whispered to her left, causing Ghazan to snicker on her other side.

“—she’s had a falling out with her father and the Air Acolytes and is currently living in the city with her mother. There's no way to know for certain, but Zaheer thinks she’ll be open to hearing what we have to say.”

Oh, now there’s a bright idea. Convince someone famous on multiple continents for her total lack of self-control to train the Avatar in secret. Even if Tsomo’s politics somehow aligned with theirs, the two girls would murder each other within a week. Ming-Hua was clearly thinking the same thing, Kuvira turned to her and shared a very skeptical look.

Kuvira opened her mouth to speak, but Ming-Hua beat her to the punch. “Aren't we forgetting the bit where her mother is none other than Lin Beifong, Chief of fucking Police? I’m sure lavaboy here is just itching for a reunion.”

’Now there’s a show I wouldn’t want to miss.’ Kuvira thought.

Zaheer interjected, carefully measuring his words. “Given their... philosophical differences, we believe she might be willing to help us without getting either of her parents involved.”

Kuvira sighed. Leave it to Zaheer to speak only in the vaguest of euphemisms.

“Knowing what I went through growing up with Lin, it’s not hard to imagine how she might feel alienated.” Suyin huffed. “Let alone having Tenzin of all people for a father, poor girl.”

Kuvira very nearly spat out her drink. That staggering, shameless hypocrite… she could feel the bile rising at the back of her throat. She resisted the powerful urge to snap a band of metal across her mouth (or her perhaps her whole head.)

Forcefully reminding herself that now was not the time, Kuvira bit down on the inside of her lip and said nothing. She only noticed the metallic taste minutes later, she'd bitten hard enough to draw blood.

Ming-Hua apparently found Suyin’s color commentary about as useful as she did. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“We’ll reassess and decide what to do next, as a group.” Zaheer replied, his expression considerably more even than his tone.

Ming-Hua just shrugged. “Not exactly the most stellar plan, but spirits' know we’ve pulled off worse.”

Suyin laughed. Spirits, how she hated that fucking laugh. “I can’t argue with that. Oh, and Zaheer? Try not to kill my sister.”

For the first time that night, Zaheer gave Suyin a genuine smile. “She won’t make it easy.”

“She never does.”

So, she was throwing her lot in with a bunch of catastrophically ill-prepared anarchists and an Avatar who had the table manners of a komodo-rhino in heat with the interpersonal skills to match. But as she looked over at Suyin’s expression of smug comfort, Kuvira found no reason to doubt her decision.

Chapter Text

Korra awoke late, roused by the smell of breakfast wafting in from the other side of the screen. She groaned and rolled back over on the bedroll, unable to ignore the traitorous grumbling of her stomach. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stumbled out into the apartment’s dingy kitchen only to gasp in shock.

“Uncle Zaheer! Wow, you’re… bald.”

Korra blinked owlishly at him, and Zaheer responded with what could almost be called a smirk. Odd as it was, she had to admit the new look suited him.

He shrugged at her before returning to the pot of jook simmering on the stove. “It seemed a prudent disguise, seeing as I’ll be travelling to Air Temple Island today to see what useful information I might be able to obtain.”

Korra knew Zaheer had very good reasons for undertaking such a trip, but she still had to suppress a laugh. Zaheer looked less like someone about to undertake a risky assignment amidst hostile forces and more like a boy who'd just been given a large stack of yuan at a summer festival.

She shot him look of mock sympathy. “I bet you’re just dreading the prospect of spending a whole day chatting up Air Acolytes and reading their dusty old scrolls, I’m sure you’ll find a way to cope.”

Korra heard Kuvira snort from her place at the chabudai behind them. Rolling his eyes, Zaheer pulled the pot off the stove and gestured for her to follow.

Kuvira sat reading a report and idly stirring her tea. In contrast to Korra’s morning dishevelment, the guard captain appeared perfectly composed, her hair tightly braided down her back without so much as an errant strand. She might as well have been a machine as far as Korra was concerned, she still had no idea how someone like that came from Zaofu. They'd sparred on occasion and even struck up conversation once or twice, but she still didn't know the woman all that well, especially as she seemed to hold back her true feelings whenever they spoke.

Taking the cushion across from her, Zaheer gestured for Korra to join them.

“Kuvira, I want you to see what you can find out about Tsomo. Locate and attempt to shadow her, but be cautious—we still don't know how well she’s able to compensate for her lack of sight with bending. Toph’s abilities were certainly extensive.”

Kuvira gave him a condescending look. “If the papers are anything to go by, finding her shouldn’t be much of a challenge... a little over five chi, eighteen or nineteen, light build, shaved head with that blue nonsense, blind, bad attitude. The gossip rags have her staying with her mother, I’ll stake out their place on Zuko Square and go from there.”

Zaheer nodded. “Korra, why don't you take the day and go out into the city? I want you to get a feel for the people here; find out what’s ailing them, where their anxieties lie. Strike up conversations, especially with those who often go overlooked. But remember, stick to your cover story and don’t get involved, right now we want information, not complications. And I think it would be best for now if you confined your bending to this apartment, it’s essential that we avoid alerting any potentially hostile parties of our presence here.”

Korra frowned, Zaheer really could turn anything into a buzzkill.

She responded with more confidence than she felt. “Don’t worry, I know the drill. I’ve got this, yeah?”

Zaheer just sighed and glanced at his tea.

He departed shortly thereafter, followed by Kuvira, who was now dressed in a broad-rimmed hat and nondescript Earth Kingdom robes. With her long braid, she almost looked the part of a Dai Li agent; Korra wasn't sure if it was intentional or not.

Once they’d left, she threw on her jacket and practically skipped out of the apartment down to the street below.

Korra felt her head swim as she wandered down the narrow streets towards downtown. Growing up in Zaofu she’d considered herself unfazed by cities, but the sheer scale of this place was something entirely outside the scope of her experience. The whole city thrummed with activity, the screeching of satomobiles mingled with the animated shouts of street vendors and conversations between people from every nation crammed shoulder to shoulder. The streets were alive with frantic motion, assailing her with an overwhelming stream of sounds and scents.

She passed an old woman in Water Tribe rags slumped against a lamppost, rattling a broken cup containing a couple yuan. The people around her seemed completely unfazed by her presence, they actively ignored her even as she held out the cup and dared them to meet her eyes.

Korra was no stranger to poverty. Until her family found refuge in Zaofu, they'd travelled across the Earth Kingdom as little more than vagrants. She'd seen the devastation the Earth Queen's policies had wrought, families full of sunken eyes and too-thin faces living in crudely bent huts, tilling blighted earth that never provided quite enough to sustain them, let alone pay Ba Sing Se's tithes. Even then, people still shared whatever meagre wealth they had with each other. Here though, it was as if the poor lived in another world, invisible and entirely cut off from the riches that surrounded them.

She dropped a couple of her own yuan in the woman's cup before moving on, feeling small and somehow unworthy of the woman's gaze. She found herself with a desperate urge to go somewhere more quiet and collect her thoughts. Navigating on impulse, she crossed the thoroughfare out into the enormous park at the center of the city, a bubble of green surrounded on all sides by buildings of steel and stone arching up towards the sky.

She stopped at a stall to buy a handful of steamed bums from a kind old wisp of a woman she was nevertheless certain could plant her in the ground should the occasion call for it, and made her way out onto the green. She was sitting at the foot of a small hill near the edge of the pond when she heard a rustling sound coming from the bushes beside her.

“Say, those dumplings smell mighty fine, you wouldn’t happen to have one extra, would ya?”

A man with wiry grey hair and an unkempt beard in the old Fire Nation style emerged from the bush, brushing leaves from his tattered United Forces vest. He shuffled over to Korra, seeming rather pleased with himself.

Not sure what to say, Korra smiled and held out the crumpled paper with the last few buns. “Oh! Um, yeah, sure!”

The man snatched the topmost bun and happily shoved it into his mouth. Speaking between bites, he grabbed her other hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “Gommu’s the name, happy to meet ya!”

“Hi, I’m… uhh, Rava.”

Korra blushed in mortification. Rava? Really?

Never was good with aliases, she thought, kicking herself.

Oblivious, Gommu just smiled back at her. “Well it’s nice to make your acquaintance, Rava!”

“So, do you uh… live in that bush?” Korra asked, wincing as she realized just how terrible she was at casual conversation.

“Yep! Presently that is what I do call home. Took me a while to procure a bush that beauteous.” Gommu preened mightily, the sight was silly enough that Korra couldn't help but laugh.

Feeling more at ease, Korra took a bite of her own bun. “Are there a lot of people like you here? Bush-dwellers, that is?" She asked. "Not that I have anything against your home…” she added awkwardly.

Gommu laughed from deep in his belly, seemingly far from offended. “As well you shouldn’t! It’s a mighty fine bush, finest in the city if I say so myself. But as to your question, sure, I guess you could say there are more of us here than most places you might go.”

His words only confirmed the far from pleasant impression Korra was getting of this place. “For some reason I’d thought a city as rich as this wouldn’t have any trouble keeping people housed and fed.” She muttered, bitter anger undercutting her tone.

Gommu chuckled. “You really are fresh off the boat, aren’t ya kid! Nobody here to look out for you but yourself; she can be a cruel mistress, this city of ours.” His eyes glazed over briefly with a pain Korra could only guess at, she felt it not her place to ask.

Not knowing what else to say, Korra ate with him in silence. His company was strangely comforting, grounding in a way that sharply contrasted with her disorienting morning. As she stood up to go, she fished out what little money she had left in her pouch and hesitantly offered it to him. She didn't want to offend the man by implication, but he clearly needed it more than she did.

“Thought you might need something to keep that bush of yours priss and prim.” She offered lamely.

Gommu smiled back at her warmly, taking the gesture for what it was. “Mighty fine of ya! I get the feelin we’ll cross paths again sometime… but until then, go well, Rava!”

Korra grinned, happy at the prospect of a new friend. She waved back at him as she wandered back up the hill towards the edge of the park. Crossing the footbridge, she passed a woman wearing a hanfu of fine red silk pushing a tram. The woman glanced at Korra and then back towards Gommu with disdain.

She turned back to Korra, her tone desultory and reeking of condescension. “You know, you shouldn’t be so kind to them, it just encourages them.”

Korra's jaw tightened and her face and neck grew hot. She found herself fighting the urge to do a little expedited wealth redistribution.

Righteous indignation warred with her more sensible instincts. Come on, just leave it… time and a place… Zaheer was very clear about not getting into trouble, but still—“Why don’t you mind your own business then?” she stammered after an awkwardly long pause. The woman merely huffed dismissively and turned away.

Korra's stewing was interrupted by an exceedingly tempting idea. Zaheer would disapprove, but he wasn't here, now was he? Without turning around, she subtly twisted her ankle to the side and then back. Behind her, the cobblestone under the tram’s wheel lifted just enough to send the woman crashing over the handles into its now wailing occupant.

She smiled to herself, a new spring to her step.

See? No trouble at all...

As she neared the street, Korra spotted a crowd forming around a man standing atop a small platform, shouting something unintelligible through a makeshift bullhorn. She knew she should probably just continue on her way, but she was already feeling indulgent and soon her curiosity got the better of her. The banner behind him featured a cloaked figure framed by a red sun, gazing confidently outward through a white mask emblazoned with the same emblem. Korra had to admit that the overall effect was certainly compelling. Whoever they were, they at least had a decent artist working for them.

Intrigued, Korra made her way closer, positioning herself at the edge of the crowd.

“Are you tired of living under the tyranny of benders? Then join the Equalists! For too long, the bending elite of this city have forced nonbenders to live as lower class citizens. Join Amon, and together we will tear down the bending establishment…”

Korra sighed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest. The man had a point, even she could see that nonbenders made up the majority of the underclass here and elsewhere. They were overworked and underpaid compared to benders, and subject to targeted exploitation by employers and bending gangs alike. Even so, you'd have to be an idiot to think bending itself was the source of all inequality. Just look at Hiroshi Sato, or the damned Earth Queen for that matter.

Still, maybe he could lead her to people who shared his anger but were a little less... singleminded about it. She moved towards the back, waiting for him to finish his speech and the crowd to disperse.

Approaching, she decided to keep it simple. “So, who is this Amon person?”

The man responded with all the zeal of a religious convert. “He leads us, not for power or fame but for his principles, for equality! He’s pushing us forward into a better future, he’s giving us nonbenders a way to fight back!”

Something about the way he was speaking made Korra deeply uneasy, she felt her shoulders tense and the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Even if it was just an awkward stump speech, this was all a little too messianic for her liking. (She supposed that was somewhat ironic, considering who she was.)

The man looked at her expectantly. Korra swallowed, suddenly nervous. She tried to calm herself and focus on Suyin's training, what she'd been taught to do if she ever found herself in a situation like this.

"Find what's relatable, then take your own truth and twist it just enough to create common ground. Create a bond and allow them to open up in return..."

She suddenly knew her in, even if using it that way made her feel vaguely sick to her stomach. Korra looked down, though whether it was to hide her lie or simply conceal the truth in her eyes, she wasn't sure. “A gang of benders attacked my family when I was little, they killed both my parents. I remember how powerless I felt. If I had a way to make them pay for what they did, I'd make sure that they could never do it again.”

The anger in her voice was all too real, and Korra tried and failed to rein in her emotions. It would be so easy to lose herself in it, in memory... she already felt herself slipping. Her hands twisted in the hem of her jacket as she attempted to ground herself in the texture of the coarse fabric.

If the man noticed, he made no comment. He simply held out a stack of four flyers to her with a knowing look. “Well, maybe this movement can give you that. Join us tomorrow night and you’ll see.”

She took the flyers and thanked him with badly concealed confusion. He hadn’t said where or evenwhat, and there was nothing written on the posters save for the highly-stylized character for 'equality' in the background behind Amon. She turned away, too lost in her own thoughts to ask for clarification. Only vaguely aware of where she was going or what she was going, she drifted off in the direction of the street. In her daze, she only narrowly avoided bumping into a pair of police officers who had been observing the protest from the sidewalk.

Suddenly very, very aware of her surroundings, Korra berated herself as her heart began to race uncontrollably.

Come on, get a grip! Go and get arrested on your first day here, just what you need…

She ducked out of their way with a mumbled apology, shrinking from the wary glances they both gave her. Now with her back to them, she fought the urge to break into a full sprint. Head forward and neck tense, she forced herself to walk casually to the end of the block before crossing the street. Glancing back over her shoulder to make sure the officers were still preoccupied at the other end of the block, she didn’t see the satocycle until it was too late.

“Shit! Spirits, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Korra propped herself upright against the tire of the satomobile she’d skidded to rest against. Her head swam unpleasantly, she tried to gather enough presence of mind to at least assess the damage. Someone was shouting something in the background, their words drowned out by the rushing noise filling her ears.

Blinking grit from her eyes, she groaned as her surroundings came back into focus. She’d tucked into a protective curl on reflex—and a good thing she had, as it looked like she’d been thrown a decent distance from the spot where she’d been hit.

She was covered in road grime and she’d skinned the knuckles of her left hand, but apart from that and the unpleasant stinging sensation coming from her shoulder, she appeared to be mostly unscathed. She shifted a bit, testing the range of motion in her arms and legs. Nothing broken, so that was good…

The satocycle was lying on its side a short way down the street, the rider was now making their way towards her. They were nursing their right arm, and their helmet, or rather her helmet—they were close enough now for Korra to see that it was definitely a woman—was slightly askew.

“Hello, can you hear me? Are you all right?”

She nodded in response, still feeling a bit dazed. It took Korra several seconds to realize that the oddly persistent voice was in fact the woman’s. Whoever she was, at least she sounded more concerned than angry. At this point, Korra would take whatever small mercies she could get.

The rider crouched down in front of her and gingerly pulled off her helmet and goggles, taking care to avoid the abrasions on her cheek. She tossed them to the dirt, and whatever thoughts Korra had been having simply evaporated.

Korra would be the first to admit that she wasn’t the most adept person in social situations, but it was still rare that she found herself at a complete loss for words.

In her defense, she’d just been hit by a satocycle, and the woman in front of her was flat-out gorgeous.

Shoulder-length black hair frizzing slightly from the helmet framed a pale face with angular features. Even flustered, she carried herself with a practiced self-awareness. Korra would've guessed she was some Fire Nation noble if not for her eyes, now fixed on her own in concern—Korra had never seen any quite like them, even in the Earth Kingdom. They were an unusually pale shade of green, fading almost to gold in places, and had a particular sharpness to them that was strangely familiar somehow.

Korra was vaguely aware of the heat rising in her face as she made a futile attempt to knock the dust off her jacket.

“M’fine, really.” She mumbled, trying not to make eye contact.

The woman hadn’t seemed to notice—she was anxiously twisting her gloves, her brow furrowed in distress.

“I’m so sorry, I was speeding, and I didn’t see you step out..." she stammered, her pitch rising as she sped through an increasingly jumbled series of apologies.

Korra had to fight a strange urge to reassure her. Especially as it seemed like she was significantly more distressed about running Korra over than Korra herself was.

“S’fine, really! I can take a few bumps.” Korra interjected with a lopsided grin.

The woman looked deeply unconvinced, but nevertheless seemed to breathe a little easier as she stood up and offered Korra a hand. “Asami.”

“Uhh, Rava.” Korra offered after an entirely too long pause.

Korra groaned to herself. Of all the names… Ghazan was going to have a field day with this.

Korra gripped Asami’s forearm and staggered to her feet. The taller girl was considerably stronger than she’d been expecting and Korra stumbled a bit, vertigo getting the better of her. Awkwardly, she realized she was still holding onto Asami's arm. Korra let go abruptly, palming the back of her neck with a nervous laugh.

"Wow. Um, yeah. Sorry about that." She offered sheepishly.

Asami flushed briefly in embarrassment, concern and guilt warring on her face.

“No, it's fine! Are you sure you’re okay? I feel like such a fool." She looked down, flustered, before giving Korra an apologetic look. "Can I at least buy you dinner for your trouble?”

Korra blinked as she tried and failed to process what she’d just heard. The woman who had just hit her with her satocycle wanted to buy her dinner?

Korra opened her mouth to decline before a voice in the back of her mind gave her pause—why shouldn’t she?— it wasn’t like had plans for the evening, and it would certainly be more interesting than listening to Zaheer prattle on about whatever airbending scrolls he’d spent the day engrossed in.

Asami seemed interesting, and even if she did turn out to be nothing more than some guilt-ridden rich girl, at least she’d get a good meal out of it.

“I mean, if you’re offering.” Korra replied with a slightly bewildered smile.

Asami’s whole face brightened in response. “Yes! Meet me in front of Kwong’s at 8 o’clock?”

Korra nodded, still feeling a bit dumbstruck. She realized far too late that she had absolutely no idea where this Kwong’s even was or what to expect there. She’d just have to figure it out, perhaps one of the other tenants in their building would know.

She’d need to return there beforehand anyway, if only to leave a note for Kuvira and Zaheer. Well, that and maybe try to mend the fresh rip in her jacket sleeve, damn.

Asami smiled, lingering for a moment before walking back over to her satocycle and propping it upright. She bent the mirror back into place with what Korra suspected was a slightly excessive amount of force before turning to wave at her. “Sorry again, I’ll see you tonight!”

Korra watched as she sped away. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just been bowled over in more ways than one.

Chapter Text

Knocking, that was definitely knocking. Asami cursed and rolled over on the cot with a groan. The sun poured in through the filthy windows of her office, coating everything in a dusty yellow haze. She’d barely had a chance to right herself and wipe the crust from her eyes when the door opened gently, revealing a kind-looking man carrying two crumpled paper bags.

“Good morning sweetheart. You weren’t at breakfast this morning so I guessed you might be here, I brought Zhou’s.”

Asami’s stomach gurgled. She eyed the steamed buns and congee with something like lust in her eyes.

“Ugh, what time is it?”

“Just after the ninth hour,” Hiroshi sighed. “Asami, you know how much I love your dedication, but this is the second night in a row, you need rest! I won’t have my daughter living on a cot in her office.”

Asami’s neck was killing her. She found herself thinking she should’ve installed a hammock instead of that lousy cot. She rubbed her shoulder and stood up, brushing the hair from her face and tying it back in a messy bun. Her shirt was creased from sleep and covered in stains, she realized that she must absolutely reek of motor oil and sweat.

“Dad, how many times have I found you out cold on your desk in the morning?”

“And you never let me hear the end of it! The least I can do is return the favor.” Hiroshi replied with a wink.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go home and clean up. But first, don’t you want to see what’s kept me holed up in here for the past three days?”

Asami grinned, watching Hiroshi try and fail to hide his obvious interest under the display of fatherly concern.

He glanced over at the schematics on Asami’s desk and frowned. “I thought we’d already ruled out a radial engine. They overheat too easily, the crankcases on the prototypes kept failing, and we could never get the power-to-weight ratio high enough without fracturing the connecting rods.”

Seeing his dismay, Asami could hardly conceal a crooked smile. “It was actually that last failure that got me thinking… what if we let the cylinder block rotate, but intentionally this time? Instead of fixing the crankcase to the fuselage and letting the crankshaft rotate, what if we fixed the crankshaft and let the crankcase rotate?

Hiroshi looked more closely at the schematics, and Asami saw his face light up in comprehension. “Incredible, the weight savings alone… you’re using the whole cylinder block as the flywheel! There’s no need for an extra mechanism inside the case, and with the whole block rotating—”

“—the engine cools itself!” Asami finished his sentence with a matching look of excitement.

“You’re brilliant my girl! Have you started on a prototype?”

“No…” Asami watched his smile falter almost imperceptibly.

“…I’ve finished one. It’s down in the shop, we ran it for the first time last night. Want to go take a look?”

Breakfast entirely forgotten, father and daughter rushed from the office down to the shop below.

Of course, all it took was one look at the newspaper that had been left absentmindedly on the drawing room table to completely ruin her good mood.

SPARK OF ATTRACTION? FUTURE INDUSTRIES HEIRESS SPOTTED WITH PRO BENDER AT THIS YEAR’S COSMOPOLITAN GALA.

Has Republic City’s most eligible bachelorette finally met her match in Bolin, Captain of the Fire Ferrets? The pro bending hunk was spotted whispering lovely nothings into Miss Sato’s ear at last week’s Cosmopolitan Gala, bringing to an end months of intense speculation about who would be the Future Industries heiress’ new flame. Our reporter has more! details on page A12

Asami threw the paper back down with a scowl, sending a forgotten cup of tea flying to the mat.

She hated it, she hated all of it. Did the newspapers want to hear about how she’d spent the last three months successfully overseeing the installation of new wireless radio transmitters across the city? No. Did they want to hear about how she’d just designed and then successfully prototyped an entirely new kind of engine that could revolutionize powered flight? No!

All anyone seemed to care about was what boy she had on her arm, who would be the lucky man to woo Republic City’s “most eligible bachelorette.” She supposed she should be grateful to Tsomo Beifong. At least the mad airbender’s antics had kept the tabloids preoccupied for the past few months.

She couldn’t help but laugh about Bolin. If only they knew that those “sweet nothings” he’d whispered in her ear had actually been him pining to her over the (admittedly very pretty) son of a Northern Water Tribe diplomat standing across the room. When the man had finally approached after an agonizingly long exchange of glances, Bolin had been so red and flustered that he’d introduced her as “Miss Satami Aso.”

She knew she should probably go upstairs and fall face-first into her bed, but if she was being honest with herself right now she felt more restless than exhausted. Maybe a drive would help. She’d overhauled the engine in her satocycle last week and still hadn’t had the chance to try it out. The fresh air would do her some good, and besides, her muscles were still cramping thanks to that damn cot.

She threw on her riding gear and tore down into the city.

That had been stupid and impulsive. What was she thinking, speeding downtown? She could’ve killed that girl! And then she asked her to dinner? What the hell, Asami?

The lack of sleep must be getting to her. Still, she should at least go and not stand the poor girl up, she didn’t want to make even more of an ass of herself than she already had.

Having rinsed off the road grime she sat at her vanity, wincing as she used a cotton ball soaked in alcohol to clean the small scrapes on her cheek and neck. She briefly considered covering them up but thought better of it, deciding instead to leave her makeup minimal. No need to overdo it, especially given how this day had already gone.

Despite the self-admonishment, she still managed to spend over an hour pacing in front of her bed trying on what seemed like half the clothing in her armoire before discarding it in a heap. Why was being so indecisive? This wasn’t like her. After all, it was just dinner with a stranger she owed an apology, she shouldn’t be overthinking this so much.

She eventually settled on wool hakama over heeled boots and a crimson silk haori subtly embroidered with lotus flowers and trimmed in black, with her favorite wool coat thrown over top. Nothing ostentatious, but unconventional enough to make a statement while still being suitable.

She’d arrived five minutes early to find Rava already standing outside, looking somewhat sheepish.

“Asami! I’m so glad to see you, I wasn’t sure if this was the right place.” Rava’s face lit up, making something in Asami’s stomach flutter.

Walking over to greet her, she cursed silently at herself. Rava was new here, why didn’t she think to give her more than just the name of a restaurant she’d probably never heard of?

“It’s my fault for not giving you better directions. Is this place okay?”

Rava gave her a somewhat embarrassed smile. “No, I mean, it’s fine, really! I just well, didn’t really think to dress for a place like this.”

Asami saw she was still wearing her beaten-up leather jacket from that afternoon and boots that looked like they’d seen the better part of two continents. Yet another thing she should have thought of, this was turning into more of a mess by the minute.

Deciding to just go with it, she fixed Rava with a confident smile and led her through the doors, nodding to the maître’d and his attendant as they stepped inside. “Don’t worry, they’ll take care of all that. Qin here will take you to get dressed and cleaned up.”

Looking bemused, Rava gave her a lopsided grin. “Sounds fine to me, though I can’t promise I clean up much.”

She was beginning to think there was something different, almost refreshing about Rava.

Rava emerged forty minutes later wearing a sleeveless Southern Water Tribe dress, asymmetric fur dyed a deep blue. It took Asami a few seconds before she realized that she was staring. The dress somehow made Rava’s pale blue eyes even more arresting, and it had the unintended effect of showing off her very well-muscled arms and back. Had Asami not noticed that earlier? Because right now they were commanding far too much of her attention.

“Wow. You look fantastic.”

Korra smiled back at her, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes, sadness? Asami pushed it out of her mind and turned to the maître’d who was beckoning them into the dining room.

“Would Miss Sato and her companion come this way please?”

Rava raised an eyebrow on hearing her name but said nothing.

Once they’d been seated, Rava asked her the question she’d been dreading. “So, Sato as in—”

“Satomobile, yes. Hiroshi Sato is my father.” Asami sighed.

Rava suddenly looked excited. “That means you’re the Asami Sato right, the genius engineer!”

Well, that had not been reaction Asami was expecting. Tamping down surprise and something else (elation? recognition?) she gave a nervous laugh. “Genius is a stretch, but yeah, that’s me.”

“My… friend, he’s studying to become an engineer and he talks about you constantly. He’s always going on about some new some new machine you’ve developed or problem you’ve solved. Honestly I don’t know whether he’s obsessed with you or just insanely jealous.”

“Maybe you should introduce us.” Asami teased.

“Something tells me he wouldn’t be your type.”

Asami raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Well, for one thing, you don’t seem to have had your sense of humor surgically removed. Also the last woman he dated literally fled the country.”

“Sounds like a charmer.”

They both laughed, only to be interrupted as food arrived. Sliding back into the flow of conversation, Asami began to think this night might not be such a wreck after all. Rava was surprisingly easy to talk to. She also clearly had a ravenous appetite, to Asami’s surprise she seemed particularly fond of the spicier Fire Nation dishes on the menu.

As the evening wore on, Asami noticed Rava’s expression turning distant. The other girl stared out across the bay, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Rava turned back to her, breaking from thought. “Sorry, I guess it’s just been a long time since I wore anything like this. My parents were from the Southern Water Tribe, but they died when I was young.”

Asami flinched in concern. “Spirits, I’m so sorry. If you’re uncomfortable I’m sure we can arrange something else, or—”

“No, it’s okay, really. It was a long time ago now, and it’s not like I don’t have family—my parents’ friends took me in after it happened and they raised me like one of their own, but it’s just not the same, I guess.”

Rava glanced away, biting back tears. Almost without thinking Asami reached across the table and took her hand.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It’s just… the dress made me think, and now I’m having a hard time remembering their faces, and—”

Asami looked her with a sad smile. “No, I think I understand, at least some of it. My mom also died when I was little. Agni Kai broke into our home—we think they were just trying to rob us, but mom got in the way—and I… I was the one who found her.”

“Asami that’s awful, I’m so sorry.” Rava squeezed her hand. Asami realized she was crying and blotted her eyes, makeup running on her napkin.

They sat like that for a while, neither knowing what to say.

Eventually, in a small voice Rava asked, “did they catch the guy? The Agni Kai I mean.”

Asami shook her head. “They investigated for months, but eventually the case just dried up. They never really had much to go on, and I guess it stopped being a priority when the Agni Kai collapsed a few years later. I’ve tried to make my peace with it, but my dad never really has. I can’t honestly blame him for still being angry—especially when there are still other gangs of benders going around terrorizing people.”

Rava nodded, looking thoughtful. “Right before we collided, I saw a crowd of people calling themselves ‘Equalists’ in the park, have you heard of them?”

Asami tensed, but reminded herself that it was probably just a coincidence. “I don’t know that much about them, only that they want to give nonbenders the chance to stand up for themselves. What do you think of them?”

Rava’s expression was unreadable. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s obvious that the problem they’re addressing is real, it just seems like they’re missing the bigger picture. Like, the problem isn’t benders, it’s well this” she said, gesturing at their surroundings.

“Like if you want balance, you have to do away with the structures perpetuating imbalance, right? You can’t just get rid of whoever’s in charge, or at least you can’t stop there. You have to show people that there are other ways to live besides the ones just passed down to them.”

Asami’s face twisted into a wry smile. “Sounds like something the Avatar would have said.”

Rava choked on her drink. Whatever she’d been expecting from Asami, it certainly wasn’t that.

Asami laughed. “Surprised?”

“Honestly, I was kinda expecting you to get angry with me. I mean, I did just imply that your father's wealth and property are part of the problem...”

Despite Rava’s unease, Asami just shrugged. “I think you’ll find that we agree on more than you might think.”

Dessert arrived and Rava seized the chance to change the topic, asking about Asami’s satocycle. The mood lightened as she was quickly swept up in a lengthy explanation about suspensions and bore/stroke ratios. The rest of the night passed in a blur, and before long they found themselves standing back outside the restaurant.

“Thanks, I had fun tonight.”

“So did I.”

They lingered for a moment, neither wanting to be the first to say goodnight.

“So um, can I see you again sometime?” Rava asked, looking a bit nervous. Asami felt a not-unpleasant heat rise in her face.

“I’d like that. Why don’t you come up to the estate this weekend and I can show you around the track?”

Rava grinned at her. “Count on it. See you around, heiress!”

Asami gave her a mock scowl and laughed as Rava walked off into the night.

Chapter Text

Lin rubbed her temples, elbows resting on her desk. Spread out in front of her were the files of not one but six triad bosses that had disappeared in the past four days, all without a trace. A full third of the boroughs were in chaos as their underlings fought each other to fill the resultant power vacuum, she had every beat cop on the roster out patrolling and half the detectives. As if that wasn’t enough mayhem, the Equalists were becoming more brazen, now they were even organizing out in the open. Tarrlok and his task force of paramilitary thugs certainly weren’t helping matters, she wondered how many more tea shops they’d smash up in their search for “covert Equalist training dens.” It was only a matter of time before everything came to a head, and Lin was not looking forward to it.

As if sent by whatever wrathful spirit had decided to prank her that morning, Lin looked up to see one of her junior officers making a beeline for her door. More good news, she was sure. Probably something involving Tsomo, given the way her luck was going. Lin fixed him with a scowl before he even made it through the door.

“Fuck’s sake Mako, what’s she done now?”

“Um… Chief, it’s not that.” Mako shuffled awkwardly. “It’s Bolin. He didn’t come home last night, and nobody’s seen him since practice yesterday morning.”

“Quit worrying about him so much. He’s probably just sleeping it off at some Fire Ferret groupie’s apartment.”

“I know, it’s just… he usually checks in, and you know how he has a knack for getting himself into trouble.”

“Fine, take the afternoon. But be back here before nightfall, Tarrlok’s mobilizing for something and I’ll need you here on booking when shit hits the fan.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

Mako showed himself out and Lin sighed. This was going to be a very long day.

“Well then, let’s review.” Zaheer looked entirely too chipper, it wasn’t natural. Kuvira suspected it had something to do with the small stack of scrolls carefully arranged next to his bedroll.

“Kuvira, did you have luck with the airbender?”

She snorted dismissively. “That's one way to put it. Let’s just say she’s not exactly guru material.”

Zaheer raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Kuvira gave a resigned sigh. “I located the apartment around nine and set myself up on the rooftop across the street—it’s less than two blocks from the precinct by the way, we’re going to need a contingency plan for that—but didn’t see any signs of life inside until well past midday. I waited there until she finally left the building, around two. I tailed her to Republic City Park, where she airbent herself up a tree and proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon getting drunk on cheap baijiu and flinging acorns at wildlife.”

Kuvira pretended not to notice as Korra choked on her tea.

“Shortly after sunset she stumbled her way back uptown, getting into various petty altercations with people along the way, including two different newspaper vendors and a small child who referred to her as ‘that mean arrow-lady.’ She was back in the apartment by half past eight, Chief Beifong returned around nine. She’d barely been home five minutes before they launched into some sort of heated argument. I’m not sure what it was about, but it was loud enough that I could hear the muffled yelling from across the street. Whatever it was, it didn’t last long. The elder Beifong climbed out onto the fire escape to smoke a cigarette, and that was the last I saw of either of them before I left around ten.”

A hint of a wry smile crossed Zaheer’s face. “Not exactly the temperament I was expecting from an airbending master, even one her age.”

Kuvira curled her lip. “She’s definitely more Beifong than breezehead. I somehow doubt getting her to lie to her parents will be a problem, but convincing her to help us is another story.”

Korra muttered through a mouthful of leftover noodles. “Is it bad that I kinda like this one?”

Kuvira rolled her eyes. “Let’s just hope she gets along better with you than the woman whose goat dog she airbent up a fire escape.”

Zaheer turned to Korra, sipping his tea. “How about your day, anything to report?”

“Well, I didn’t really find out much. I spent some time in the park and talked with a man who was living in one of the bushes, he seemed nice.” Kuvira rolled her eyes, again. “There are a lot more people like him here than I thought there’d be. I mean, I knew there'd be poverty, but I guess I wasn't expecting so much of it, or for it to be so concentrated or so visible. I can't understand how people can see misery like that right in front of them and just choose to ignore it.”

Kuvira twitched, pushing down the knot of rage in her stomach. “You didn’t spend your childhood in the slums of Ba Sing Se.”

Korra winced apologetically and changed the subject. “I also encountered a group protesting the way nonbenders are treated here, they called themselves 'Equalists' and seemed reasonable, if a bit misguided. Their leader in particular, it seems like he has a bit of a savior complex. I spoke with one of the protesters afterwards, he invited me to some sort of meeting they’re having tonight.”

Kuvira shot him a look that said 'absolutely not.' Zaheer acknowledged her concern and then went for it anyway. “It could be beneficial for us to find out more about this group and their plans. You say the meeting’s tonight, did he tell you where?”

“No, er, not really. He didn’t say, but he handed me these flyers with a look like they meant something.” Of course she didn't ask. Kuvira was going to have to have a little chat with Korra at some point about what constituted useful information.

Examining them, Zaheer smiled as if they’d confirmed something he’d suspected.

“It’s an old trick, and not a very clever one. Look,” he said, shuffling the papers upside-down on the table. “If you assemble the flyers correctly, their backs form a map that reveals the meeting location. Not precisely covert, but I doubt that was really their intention.”

Oh, this was definitely not going to go well. Kuvira leaned forward, frowning. “This isn’t a good idea. Going to a political rally is just asking for trouble.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” Korra asked, raising her voice. “Sure, they seem a bit overzealous and this Amon guy is fishy but it’s not like they’re advocating harming anyone.”

“The Equalists aren’t the problem.” Kuvira snapped, looking at the other two expectantly. “Don’t either of you read the papers?”

Zaheer was giving her that irritating look that said he knew full well what she was talking about but was going to make her spell it out, presumably for Korra's benefit. “No? Fine. The waterbender on the City Council, Tarrlok, has formed a task force with the intent of crushing the Equalists and their movement. He’s been raiding their meeting places and detaining anyone suspected of associating with them on the Council’s authority, it’s edging dangerously close to becoming a full-blown paramilitary force.”

Korra scrunched up her face. “That’s kind of an overreaction, don’t you think? From what I could see they were just demanding fair treatment and passing out pamphlets. It’s like Tarrlok has a personal vendetta against nonbenders or something.”

Zaheer looked at her and sighed. “I somehow doubt it’s anything so ideological. Tarrlok’s first and foremost just a very ambitious politician, he stands to gain by making the Equalists out to be a bigger threat than they are so that he can be seen as ‘protecting’ the city from the threat they supposedly pose.”

Korra dug in and planted her hands on the table. “Tarrlok or not, I still think we should go. They seem like they could make good allies, and if they’re opposing that kind of unjust treatment, I think we should support them.”

“Like I said, I don’t like it.” Kuvira crossed her arms and sat back.

As usual, it came down to Zaheer to play mediator. “I don’t see one meeting as posing an unacceptable risk, and I think Korra would benefit from the experience. Nevertheless, we will scope out the building and surrounding streets beforehand and prepare for any contingencies. Will that satisfy your concerns?”

It wouldn't, but there was nothing she could do about it. Kuvira just shrugged. “Fine.”

They ate in silence, Korra picking at her jook and Kuvira aggressively rifling through the day’s newspaper. After a while, Kuvira stopped what she was doing and stared at Zaheer.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask her?”

Zaheer made a noncommittal noise. Rolling her eyes with an exasperated sigh, Kuvira squared her shoulders and fixed her gaze directly on Korra.

“You arrived home late at night, wearing a dress that must've cost twice the monthly rent of this place, with a shit-eating grin on your face.”

Korra flushed. “Oh, well yeah. I also may have sorta been run over by Asami Sato, who then asked me out to dinner.”

For the first time since they’d left Zaofu, Kuvira was genuinely surprised. She barked out a laugh. “Burying the lede, much?”

Mako found Skoochy in his usual place, lounging in the shade under the statue of Zuko outside Central City Station. Skoochy straightened up as he approached and gave him a mocking salute.

“What can I do for you today, officer?”

“Skoochy drop the act, it’s still me, Mako. Have you seen Bolin around?”

“I see a lot of things, but my memory’s a little foggy these days.” Well, so much for a little solidarity. Mako frowned and tossed him a couple of yuan.

“Hmm… yeah now that you mention it I seen him, he came by yesterday around noon.”

“What was he doing?”

“Sitting over there, performing some sort of circus routine with his monkey-rat thing.” Mako wasn’t even going to ask what that meant.

“Did he say anything to you? Do anything else?”

“Hmmm…” Skoochy raised his eyebrows and made an exaggerated thinking gesture. Mako scowled and palmed him another five yuan.

“Said he needed money for a tournament or something. I told him Shady Shin’s been looking around for some extra muscle, paying triple too.”

Mako cursed and forced himself to suppress a powerful urge to strangle Skoochy. If he’d gotten Bolin wrapped up in triad business again, there was no telling what kind of trouble he could be in.

“Thanks for that, you’re a real pal.” Mako scowled at Skoochy, who gestured back at him in mocking magnanimity, the little shit.

“So Shady Shin, where might I find him? It’s been a while, and I’d like to have a little conversation with him and catch up, you know, for old times’ sake.”

Skoochy held out his hand, this one was going to cost him. Mako passed him a ten yuan note, he promptly pocketed it and held out his hand again. Getting very tired of this game, Mako balled up a twenty yuan note and tossed it at his head.

“Hey, hey! No need to get tetchy. He’s usually over at Li Po’s overseeing the remodel, so to speak.”

Mako turned and walked away without another word, Skoochy laughing over his shoulder.

“Always a pleasure, officer!”

They arrived late and waited by the food stand across the street from the Beifongs’ apartment. By the time Tsomo finally emerged, Korra had already engulfed three meat skewers and was starting on a fourth. Kuvira shot her a look of disdain and Korra shrugged defensively. “What? I was hungry.”

The trio followed behind Tsomo as she walked to the park, making a point to stay well outside what Kuvira estimated was her sensory reach. They watched as she dropped herself at the base of a massive oak atop one of the small hills overlooking the pond. Zaheer took a seat on a nearby bench barely within earshot, while Kuvira stood brooding at the edge of the footpath, not even feigning subtlety. Korra crossed the green and made her way up the hill.

Tsomo was sitting at the base of the oak, one leg tucked to her chest and the other stretched out in front of her. She gripped the half-finished bottle at her side, her free hand idly moving a leaf up and down in a small current of air. The airbender seemed to sense Korra approaching, she let the leaf fall to the ground and rocked her head back against the tree.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Tsomo muttered, almost inaudibly.

“What do you want, Avatar?”

Korra stopped dead in shock. “Wha—how did you—”

Tsomo’s expression shifted to one of exasperation. “Just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean I can’t sense you. You’re putting off more spiritual energy than the rest of this damned city combined, it’s like shoving my face in a brazier.”

“Ah, I see, um…” Korra rocked from one foot to the other, not sure what to say.

“Are you going to just stand there stammering? Let me repeat myself since you apparently didn’t hear me the first time, what do you want?”

“Well, I… I was hoping you might be willing to train me. In airbending, that is.”

Tsomo snorted. “Why the fuck would I want to do that? Go ask my father, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

Korra could feel the heat rising up her chest and into her face. She let out a sharp exhale and forced herself to remain calm.

“If your dad knew I was here, he and the White Lotus would be carting me off to spirits-know-where in a platinum box.”

Tsomo raised an eyebrow. “Probably, but that’s still not my problem. Fuck off, I’m not interested.”

Korra’s anger boiled over. “What is your problem? Do you think I wanted to come here? I never asked to be the Avatar. In fact, because of it my parents are dead and I’ve had to spend my entire fucking life looking over my shoulder waiting for your dad’s friends to capture me and lock me away, or worse. But you know what? At some point I realized I just am this, I can’t get rid of it. It’s part of me and I need to find a way to live with it. Spirits, maybe even try and use it to help fix things. I thought you might understand what that's like, but if you’re not interested please go ahead, keep drowning your self-loathing in cheap baijiu. Besides, I’m sure you have squirrels you need to antagonize.”

Korra turned and stormed off, leaving Tsomo stunned into silence.

She'd barely managed to recover herself when the man walked up to her. She could sense his heartbeat and the pattern of his breath, he felt strangely calm. “I’m sorry that went as poorly as it did. Korra can be… impulsive. If you should change your mind, you can always find me in Xai Bau’s Grove.”

He bowed to her and walked away down the hill, following in the direction of the Avatar.

Mako found Shady Shin smoking outside the back door of the restaurant. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn Shady’s hands were shaking. He noticed a nasty burn mark along his left shoulder.

Shady looked up at him, forcing a cocky grin. “Hey there officer! Long time no see.”

“Where’s Bolin?”

“Haven’t seen him in ages, have you tried the arena?”

Mako slammed him against the wall, holding a thin jet of flame to Shady’s neck. “Can it, Shady. I know he was with you yesterday, what happened? Where is he?”

Shady didn’t fight, instead giving Mako a look that could almost have been remorse. “Fine. I’m only telling you this because you’re his brother, and it didn’t come from me, you understand? Since the boss disappeared Viper’s been running scared, bulking us up, hiring extra muscle. Bolin seemed like he needed the money, and it wasn’t supposed to be anything dangerous…”

Mako snarled and Shady’s look turned fearful, “okay, listen… last night, well, we got ambushed. I dunno who they were, not triad, not yours or Tarrlok’s either by the look of it, they weren’t even benders I don’t think. They were all wearing masks and combat gear with these electric shock gloves, they hit Viper with some kind of jabbing move and suddenly he couldn’t bend. I went down with a bite from one of their gloves, and they grabbed Viper and Bolin and two others and took off. I’m sorry, you gotta believe me, that’s really all I know.”

Mako pulled the flame in his palm back and let Shady down. “They were nonbenders, you said?”

Shortly after sunset Korra and Zaheer made their way down toward the docks, Korra still in a foul mood from her confrontation with Tsomo. Despite the mild spring weather, Kuvira had insisted Korra wear a hooded cloak and a scarf that she could pull up over her face should the need arise. It was now damp with sweat and beginning to itch, she quietly cursed the Zaofu guard for being paranoid.

“I still can’t believe her!” She continued her rant. “She wouldn’t even hear what I had to say, she just told me to fuck off! Argh, I don’t know why I even thought she’d be sympathetic.”

Zaheer gave her a strained smile. “You need to be patient, Korra. Tsomo is used to reacting to the world defensively, it’s not surprising that her first response was one of hostility. Despite that, I think she’s more interested than she’s willing to admit, maybe even to herself. I made sure she can reach us if she wishes to, and we should allow her a few days to process her feelings on the matter and think it over. After that, we can consider approaching her a second time.”

“—really? Because it seemed to me her ‘fuck off’ was pretty explicit.”

“Korra, patience. Besides, we have other things to attend to right now.”

“Fine, just… why does everybody have to be so angry all the time?”

Kuvira spotted them coming up the street, she’d insisted on leaving early to scout the warehouse and the surrounding blocks. She too wore a cloak, along with a loose tunic to conceal the metal armor strapped underneath. Korra had tried to object, but there was absolutely no way she was walking into this unarmed. Zaheer greeted her with a small nod, and they paused at a noodle cart a couple of streets up from the warehouse.

“The situation’s not ideal, but I think we’ll manage. The warehouse has four exits, one at the front, one two thirds of the way down on the right that opens out into the alley, and two in back, one on each side. I didn’t see any sign of Tarrlok or increased police activity, this district’s pretty dead once the sun goes down. The only real concern is the narrow streets, it would be fairly easy for them to kettle us here.”

“Good work Kuvira, thank you. Shall we go?”

She gave him a half-cocked nod and took up stride next to Korra behind him. As they approached the warehouse, a burly-looking man leaned forward from under the light in the shabby doorway. “Sorry, this is private property. We’re closed to the public.”

Zaheer thought for a moment and nodded, pulling the flyers out from beneath his cloak. The man’s expression warmed and he relaxed his shoulders slightly, beckoning them in. “Welcome, my brother and sisters, the Revelation is upon us.”

They entered to find a sizeable crowd milling about excitedly in the otherwise empty space. A large stage had been prepared and sat half-covered in a red curtain, banners featuring Amon stretched from floor to ceiling on either side.

“Not exactly modest, is he?” Kuvira quipped.

Zaheer looked like he was having the same thought. “I’m going to wander through the crowd and try to gauge their conversations. Jin, would you stay with Rava?”

Kuvira’s expression twitched. She hated these idiotic aliases, but at least she knew how to pick one that wouldn’t draw attention.

Several minutes later the lights came down and the first of several speakers took the stage. Kuvira felt herself growing uneasy, this all seemed far too polished and well-produced for what was supposed to be a gathering of activists.

Korra fidgeted next to her, and Kuvira wondered when they would get to the main event, this “revelation” or whatever they were calling it. After what seemed like an eternity, the last speech came to its merciful end and the announcer again took the mic.

“Please welcome your hero, your savior ... Amon!”

A cloaked man wearing what looked like a Fire Opera mask emerged from a trapdoor below the stage, smoke billowing at his feet. Kuvira smirked. Oh, this should be good. Korra could be painfully naïve, but she wasn’t wrong about this guy having a complex.

He began to speak. “My quest for equality began many years ago. When I was a boy, my family and I lived on a small farm. We weren't rich, and none of us were benders. This made us very easy targets for the firebender who extorted my father…”

Kuvira bit back a sneer. We’re really going to do the whole sad childhood routine?

“One day, my father confronted this man, but when he did, that firebender took my family from me. Then, he took my face. I've been forced to hide behind a mask ever since…”

Well isn’t that convenient…

“The only thing bending has brought to the world is suffering. It has been the cause of every war in every era. But that is about to change…”

Ah, here we go with the boilerplate.

“ I know you have been wondering, ‘What is the Revelation?’ You are about to get your answer. Since the beginning of time, the spirits have acted as guardians of our world, and they have spoken to me…”

Oh for fuck’s sake. This isn’t a movement, it’s a fucking cult!

“The Avatar has disappeared and failed humanity. This why the spirits have chosen me to usher in a new era of balance…”

Kuvira glanced over at Korra, who was standing rigid and clenching her fists. She willed the girl not to do anything stupid.

“They have granted me a power that will make Equality a reality. The power to take a person's bending away. Permanently.”

What?

“Now, for a demonstration. Please welcome, Lightning Bolt Zolt. Leader of the Triple Threat Triad, and one of the most notorious criminals in Republic City.”

Kuvira watched as a wiry old man was dragged to the stage, spitting venom. Three more hostages were brought up behind him and arranged in a line. The last one was a scared-looking boy with a broad face who couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

This is bad, very, very bad.

Every bit of her training screamed 'get out of here, now' but Kuvira stood fixed to the floor, paralyzed by the scene in front of her. Amon allowed Zolt to fight, but the old bender was slow and Amon dodged his strikes with practiced ease using moves Kuvira vaguely recognized as coming from qì blocking. Zolt was subdued and made to kneel and Amon stood over him, his thumb pressed to the man’s forehead and index finger at his temple. Zolt’s eyes went wide—he collapsed and then stumbled back to his feet before falling again, making the moves to bend fire at Amon and producing nothing.

Kuvira felt the empty calm of shock set in as everything around her began to fade. Realizing what was happening, she focused on her breath and her stance and allowed the wave of sensation to bring her back to reality. She looked across the room to the other side of the crowd and caught Zaheer’s eyes. With one glance he confirmed what needed to be done.

No sudden moves, take Korra to the side door and get her out of here, don’t draw attention.

Kuvira was turning toward Korra when the glass windows on either side of the warehouse burst inward and dozens of figures clad in blue swung inside.

Shattered glass fell like rain and the warehouse erupted into chaos. Kuvira could see Amon fleeing the stage, his lieutenants covering his retreat. Zaheer shouted at her from across the room, unable to reach them through the panicking crowd.

“TAKE HER AND GO. NOW!”

Still in shock, Korra stumbled and almost fell as Kuvira wrenched her toward the side exit. A voice amplified by loudspeaker boomed from outside.

“THIS IS A TASK FORCE ACTION. BY ORDER OF THE COUNCIL, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR UNLAWFUL ASSEMBLY AND POLITICAL SUBVERSION. REMAIN CALM, SURRENDER, AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED.”

“C’mon Bo, we gotta keep moving.”

Mako staggered forward, supporting Bolin’s mass as best he could on one shoulder.

“M’head, hurts—”

Bolin muttered incoherently and his knees gave, taking Mako down with him. Shit, it was worse than he thought. He’d used the chaos of the task force’s assault as cover to make it to the stage and untie him, but Bolin had taken a nasty hit from a falling pipe and they’d had to fight their way through masked Equalists and Tarrlok’s goons before they could find a side door and get out the building.

He was leaning Bo up against the wall to check his head wound when a spike of ice went flying by his face, missing by less than a fingerbreadth. He spun around to see two figures clad in green rushing towards them chased by a handful of Tarrlok’s men. One of the pursuers threw another volley up the alley towards them and Mako shot back with flame, narrowly preventing it from slamming into the hooded figure. She turned to him, a scarf wrapped around her face, her eyes the color of ice.

“Thanks for that! Wait, he’s the kid from the stage… are you two hurt?”

The taller figure backed up to her, blocking strikes with her own volleys of earth. “What the spirits are you doing, we need to move now!”

“We can’t just leave them here.”

The taller woman paused and let out a growl of frustration.

“Fine.” She turned to him, sharp features and green eyes glowing with controlled fury.

“You, are you good for anything?”

Mako paused, dumbstruck.

“So that’s a no then. Can you walk?”

“Y-yeah, it’s just my right shoulder.”

“Good. Carry that one and move, NOW.”

Mako lifted Bolin over his back, his shoulder bursting with rivulets of pain. They made it to the end of the alley, ducking behind a dumpster for cover. The taller woman slid along the wall of the building across from them and glanced out into the street.

“They’ve blocked off the street at both ends, it looks like they have the side streets covered as well. I’m going to need to punch us a hole. You two—” she pointed at him and Bolin “—stay out of the line of fire and move as soon as there’s an opening. We won’t be able to cover you.”

The earthbender, no, metalbender then turned to her companion. “Watch my back, water only. Keep your hood up, understand?” The woman nodded.

What was that supposed to mean?

Before he could give it any more thought, the metalbender leapt out from behind the building and dropped into a roll before sliding behind an overturned satomobile in the street, effortlessly dodging the blasts of ice and fire aimed at her and responding with slivers of steel. Three of Tarrlok’s men dropped immediately, the remaining dozen spread out to encircle her. But before they could get within range the woman was moving again, spinning out from behind the vehicle while raising an earthen wall for cover. More metal shot out, more cracks and screams as the projectiles found their mark. The waterbender stood crouched at the corner of the alley, using the building for cover and doing her best to deflect or freeze the attacks aimed at her companion from behind. Moments later one of Tarrlok’s men smashed into the stone barrier, obliterating it. The metalbender crouched and leapt away at the last second, redirecting the shattered earth away from her and sending it slamming directly into his companions across the street. Before the man could react, she spun and sent another strip of metal slicing through his neck with a sickening pop.

Mako looked on, agape. The woman’s metalbending was faster and more fluid than anything he’d ever seen, and the moves she was using were almost exclusively lethal. She moved like a dancer, all controlled and precise power, dodging their offensive strikes while responding simultaneously with her own. Whoever she was, she had preternatural skill and clearly no intention of allowing herself to be captured alive.

The hooded woman let out a shout and tried to block a massive chunk of ice that had been hurled from somewhere behind them. She managed to shatter and redirect most of it, but a fist-sized fragment smashed into the side of the metalbender’s head and she fell limp. Mako caught a flash of fire and felt the wall above his head explode.

Hours later in the hospital, with a heavily-bandaged and unconscious Bolin in the bed beside him, he tried to focus on the last moments after the explosion, right before the world went to black.

The hooded waterbender slamming her foot down as she spun and raised her arms, a protective cocoon of earth rising up to meet them.

Chapter Text

It was always the same dream. She stands at the ledge atop one of the skyscrapers downtown. She leans backward, letting herself drop. The wind whips at her, and the ground reaches up to meet her. She could stop it, delay it, surround herself in a cushion of air and arrest her fall, but she chooses not to. She allows her body to go limp and welcomes the earth as it embraces her.

Tsomo awoke, as she did most mornings, to the lethargy and cold dread of an empty apartment and the unbearable aimlessness of the day stretching out before her. She tried and failed to summon anger, or even sadness—anything to fill the emptiness, that feeling of slowly unravelling like a thread left to flay itself in the wind.

As always, the first thing she felt was the stillness of the air, Lin’s absence. These last few months they had hardly spoken, her mother almost invariably rose and headed into the station long before Tsomo woke and rarely returned until late at night, their interactions reduced to exhausted fights over whatever self-destructive impulse Tsomo had surrendered to this time. She knew her mother worried about her and wanted to protect her, the way Lin had angrily rebuffed Tenzin’s endless inquiries about her was evidence enough of that, but they didn’t seem to be able to get through to each other. To be fair, neither was particularly good with feelings, and a certain amount of pride and stubbornness on both ends made it difficult to open up.

Thinking of her mother made a familiar self-hatred lurch forth within her as she imagined how humiliating it must be for Lin to have her daughter be the brunt of every callous joke, to read the tabloids gleefully speculating about her failures as a parent every time “the mad airbender” did something impulsive in public. For her to see Tsomo splayed in a drunken blackout in one of her holding cells, dragged in by one of the officers she commands, and then watch their respect for her evaporate with every step as she drags her miserable excuse of a daughter home.

Home. The shabby little apartment was barely habitable for one person, let alone two. Tsomo’s room was tiny and bare, hastily converted from Lin’s home office, now empty save for her bed roll and the filthy robes and random detritus littering the mats. The kitchen was hardly better, the counter was covered with empty takeout containers and a pile of unfinished police reports lay in a heap on the little table.

She shambled to the icebox and fished out a box of day-old noodles, not even bothering to reheat them. She opened both windows and then slumped to the mat in the front room. While she could sense even when the air was still it was much easier when there were currents to follow, and she had precious little energy to spare for anything right now.

She sat and thought of the previous day, half-wondering if she’d finally had that mental break everyone seemed to think she was heading for. The Avatar. The literal, spirits-damned Avatar, the living bridge between worlds, possibly the most powerful being alive, the human who carried within her the spirit of Raava herself.

And she had told her to fuck off.

The laughter overwhelmed her as she was swept up by the sheer implausibility of it all.

She struggled as she tried to reconcile the magnitude of the spiritual power she had felt with the information from the rest of her senses, it was like finding the sun itself contained in an awkward, shuffling water tribe teenager. Yet she hadn’t felt fear… she wasn’t entirely sure why.

Well no, that wasn’t true. There was a small part of her that had wanted to deliberately provoke the Avatar into an uncontrollable fury, one that would cause her to snuff her out of existence like a match in a storm. She felt disgusted with herself for even considering the thought, and she was soon overwhelmed by an abrupt, agonizing wave of nausea. She attempted to make it to the sink but came up short, instead emptying her stomach across the floor of the front room.

Resigned, she soaked a rag from the kitchen in the sink and scrubbed the sick off the floor. With the cold water on her skin she was suddenly intensely aware of the surface of her hands, the arrows she knew were tattooed there. She was overcome with panic as the surface of her body crawled with their unwanted presence, and she had to fight the visceral desire to peel back the blue skin and scour the marks from herself.

She felt a familiar, desperate urge to get out, to leave and find something, anything to dull and distract her from the waves of sensation coursing through her. She fled the apartment in a daze, leaping down the steps out onto the street. Picking up a bottle at the stand at the corner she barreled towards the park, knocking aside anyone and everything in her way. She stumbled up the hill and collapsed at the base of her favorite tree, calming slightly as she felt the tiny currents of air in the grass below her and the warm, solid mass of the trunk at her back. Her thoughts drifted back to what the Avatar had said the previous day, her fury when she had mentioned her father.

Some part of her still wanted to believe that Tenzin would never have condoned such a thing, but the wrenching feeling in her gut told her that what the Avatar had said was entirely true. If her father and the White Lotus had been in control, they would have done exactly what she had described. They would have locked her up in a compound away from the world where they could control and train her, where they could contort her into a weapon, body and spirit. The thought of it made her feel sick.

After all, it’s not so different from what he did to you.

She lost herself in the memory of their last conversation, the one she’d replayed in her head every day for the past ten months.

The final straw was a handful of scrolls, of all things.

Tsomo stormed into her father’s study, flinging the door open and scattering the papers arranged in front of him with an uncontrolled blast.

“Where’s Nyima? What did you do?”

Tenzin did not flinch. His pulse remained calm, and he made no motion to collect the materials now strewn across the floor.

“She was found in possession of a number of scrolls taken from my study, it is clear to me that she abused your trust and corrupted your spiritual growth. As such, she is no longer welcome on this island. I have sent her back to live with her parents in Omashu, she departed this morning.”

Tsomo coursed with white hot rage.

“You stupid, patronizing, pompous piece of shit… who do you think actually took those scrolls from your study? I was the one who sought them out. I was the one who broke into the chest you keep locked and hidden away like a coward. All Nyima is guilty of is reading them to me.”

Tenzin straightened. “I am your father and your teacher, I will not have you address me in that tone!”

“I will address you however I spirits-damned well like.” Tsomo spat.

Tenzin ignored her and attempted to maintain his composure, his voice nevertheless rising.

“I can’t believe you would be so reckless as to disregard my very clear warnings, there is a reason we keep those scrolls under seal. Guru Shentong in particular was a dangerous heretic, her teachings go against everything we stand for. They should have been destroyed long ago.”

“Destroyed, destroyed? Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly think any less of you… you would annihilate the work of entire lifetimes just because it doesn’t agree with your precious dogma? You staggering hypocrite, all of your talk of preserving Air Nomad culture and ensuring our teachings live on and yet you’re willing to obliterate parts of it just because you disagree with them!”

“It is important that we not lose track of who we are, people like Shentong and Laghima sought to corrupt and divide us. We cannot allow that to happen, especially now.”

“You’re worried about it dividing us? Have you somehow forgotten the very core of our entire culture? It’s thousands of years of gurus arguing, agreeing, discussing, and interpreting each other’s work, an unbroken chain through time. That’s our real legacy. Denying that is debasing us, not protecting us.”

“Tsomo please understand. Right now we are only two, eventually three once your sister joins us. We cannot afford to be having these arguments. We must show unity for the sake of our people.”

Tsomo choked at the mention of Jinora, choosing not to acknowledge that particular delusion of his. “Only two of us… why does it always have to be about airbending with you! Last I checked the acolytes are perfectly capable of fucking reading, in fact I’m the only one on this entire damn island who can’t.”

“Of course it’s about airbending, it’s who we are as a people!”

“Bisonshit.” Tsomo spat. “’We are not a people bound by blood or bending or tied to any nation. We are a people of the scroll, of the wind, of the spirit.’”

“Shentong again. It's clear to me now how those teachings have corrupted your spiritual path.”

“Again with your insufferable talk about spiritual corruption! And here I thought I was the one who’s blind, do you know anything at all?”

“I taught you everything!”

“You taught me nothing. I learned more in the three weeks we spent reading those scrolls together than I did from an entire lifetime being taught by you!”

Tenzin’s chest slumped, he spoke not in anger but sadness. “I placed all of my hopes for the Air Nation in you, I see know that it was too great a burden for you to bear so soon.”

Tsomo didn’t feel relief, if anything, her father’s admission made her even angrier.

“And I can see why you would be so threatened by Laghima—building an Air ‘Nation’ is just an exercise in creating one vast, retrograde earthly tether.” She snapped at him.

At that Tenzin finally lost his calm. “You have the gall to quote Laghima at me while you’ve been neglecting your duties to go fool around with that stupid girl?”

Tsomo could hardly contain her fury. “Only you would be so profoundly fucking obtuse as to interpret ‘let go your earthly tether’ as ‘let go of all those you care about.’”

It was then that she said what had slowly been building in her mind for years, something she knew would mark a point of no return.

“Do you want to know what I really think? You’re so blinded by your desire to resurrect the airbenders and create an Air Nation that you never stopped to think whether or not you should.”

Her father’s face went wide in shock, for a moment he was entirely speechless.

“How—how could you say something like that? It has been my entire life’s work, your grandfather’s life’s work… you disgrace our entire people by even uttering something as vile as that.”

“How could I—you really can’t see it, can you? Your obsession with repopulating the airbenders and putting us back on the world stage, it’s a sick nationalist fantasy… it makes you no different than Sozin.”

The stillness of Tenzin’s total shock would be etched in her memory for the rest of her life.

She left the island without another word, taking nothing with her. She walked barefoot through the spring squalls all the way to her mother’s apartment and collapsed at the door, her feet bloody and her robes drenched in rain, sweat, and tears.

Lin found her there two hours later. Lifting her from the ground with steel-clad arms, she carried Tsomo inside and to the bath as if she were still a small child, and gently ran warm water over her until she finally stopped shaking.

She draped Tsomo in old moth-eaten Gaoling robes that had been her mother’s and they sat together on the mat in the living room, neither knowing what to say to the other. A stiff arm over her shoulder, Lin held on tightly to her daughter as Tsomo cried late into the night.

By the time she regained her senses the warmth from the sun had faded, the air around her moving in little gusts as the heat from the earth evaporated into the evening sky. Neck aching and the rest of her body numb and wracked with cramps, she gingerly picked herself up from the base of the tree. She drained the remainder of the bottle and tossed it in the pond, startling a small gaggle of turtleducks taking refuge beneath the footbridge. Stumbling out of the park and into the city, she followed the scent trail of familiar food carts back toward the apartment.

Still several blocks from home, she picked up the smell of cheap cologne coming from a dozen paces up the street. She swore under her breath as she recognized it as belonging to a particularly obnoxious gossip hound from the Republic City Daily. Ducking into the nearest alley to avoid him, she collided with a cabbage cart and muttered angrily. It was only then that she heard the steps behind her, younger and lighter than the reporter.

“Hey hey, look who it is! I’d say you’re a sight for sore eyes, but you wouldn’t know, would you?” The boy jeered, his friends laughing.

She reached out with the air and sensed the trio of scrawny teenagers a handful of steps behind her. Their leader was probably Water Tribe, going by the coarse way the air moved over his clothes and his faint smell of fish.

“So tell me breezy, do your tattoos go all the way down?”

Tsomo snarled and swung wildly at him, stumbling. The boy just dodged and chuckled. “So much for airbender grace! Aren’t you monks supposed to be nonviolent?””

She sent a blast of air at his chest, but her perception was hazy from the alcohol and her aim off, it missed him entirely and glanced harmlessly off the alley wall.

“Woah there, wouldn’t want you getting agitated, you might muss up my hair by accident.”

The earth beneath her feet shifted and she was sent sprawling to the pavement, the sting of grit in her cheek. More laughter.

She swung at him again, only to miss and catch a hook from the waterbender squarely in the face. Momentarily stunned, she lurched upward at him but lost her balance and fell backwards again onto the dirt.

“Looks like the blind breezehead needs to lay off the rice wine.” They stood back, guffawing.

“Come on, let’s get outta here before Beifong shows up to scrape her disgrace off the floor.”

They left her sprawled in the alley, laughs continuing well into the distance. Wincing, she pushed herself up and used her sleeve to wipe the dirt from her face. She closed her eyes and exhaled sharply through gritted teeth, the tightness in her chest quickly giving way to spasms and violent sobbing.

Small footsteps approached her. “Are you okay mean arrow-lady?” The little girl rocked from foot to foot expectantly.

Tsomo blinked back tears but no words came. “My momma says they’re bullies. She says you’re not scary, just sad. My name’s Mai, what’s yours?”

“T-tsomo.”

“When I’m sad my mom gives me hugs, can I give you one?”

Tsomo felt the anger drain and be replaced by exhaustion. Her head throbbed and she nodded, hating herself for appearing vulnerable like this.

The little girl stepped over her and wrapped her arms around Tsomo’s waist. She smelled like flour and freshly steamed spiced dumplings. Tsomo cried harder in spite of herself, her tears sticking in the fuzzy hair on top of Mai’s head.

Tsomo heard the girl’s mother call from the end of the alley, and the little girl stood back up to go.

“It was nice to meet you, Tso-Mo. Momma was right, you’re not scary, just lonely.”

She managed a weak smile and Mai bounded off, little steps echoing off the packed dirt.

Shrinking back into the nook behind the cabbage cart, Tsomo curled her knees to her chest and let the sobs drown out the distant clamor of the street.

She trudged back towards the apartment, nursing the side of her face and an eye she knew was rapidly swelling and would soon bruise. Mom was going to kill her.

Just when she thought her day couldn’t get any worse, she arrived at the building to find a tall figure in the loose robes of an airbender waiting for her on the steps. Anger flared again within her.

“Hello dad, knock up any more air acolytes lately?”

“Tsomo please, I just want to talk.”

“What more is there to talk about?”

“I haven’t seen you since you left the island, it’s been nearly a year and I’ve written you so many letters, your mother won’t speak to me about you… what happened to your face! Are you hurt? I care about you so much and I just need to know you’re alright, why won’t you come home?”

Tsomo felt her gut twist as she remembered the other side of her father, the kind man whose heart had raced with pride when she spun through the airbending gates on her first try, who would race her laughing around the island and read her stories late into the night.

“You know exactly why. I meant everything I said.”

Tenzin flinched as if he’d been struck and Tsomo’s heart broke all over again.

“I know we have our disagreements, but I—we can’t afford to lose you.” He straightened himself. “As a Master you have a responsibility to our people, just as I do.”

Tsomo’s melancholy flashed instantly back to anger and dissolved in a fit of barking laughter. “Responsibility, so that’s what we’re calling it? Not, ‘I left the love of my life and fucked the temple sweeper because having a half-dozen perfect grey-eyed airbender babies was more important to me than my wife and daughter?’”

“You know that’s not fair.”

“You’re right, I apologize for calling your child bride a temple sweeper.”

“Leave Pema out of this! And besides, it wasn’t like that! Lin and I had been growing apart for a while, the pressures…”

“Fuck you. I know all about the pressures, you reminded me of them at every opportunity! Actually, you know what, maybe it was just that you couldn’t stand the thought of an airbender lineage full of eyes like mine.”

“It had nothing to do with that! You know I’ve always accepted you—”

“—oh have you now? Because I still remember every tiny disappointment, the way you sighed when I couldn’t tell the color of your robes, every time you wanted to show me something, wanted me to see something, wanted to read with me instead of to me. I discovered a way to sense air just as grandma sensed earth, I trained every single day for years, I listened to every last scroll in that library and found my way into the spirit world when you couldn’t. I tried to be perfect and it was still never enough for you!”

“Tsomo, please.”

“Go back to your little island, Tenzin.”

Tsomo’s face was splotched with rage and sticky with fresh tears. Tenzin reached out to her, but before he could make another plea she hit him with a blast of air, sending him over the railing and down onto the bins below the steps. By the time he recovered she was gone, the door locked behind her.

Tsomo collapsed behind the door, breathing hard. Adrenaline coursed through her and she had to fight to keep herself from becoming lost in memory, reliving the anger and pain her father had brought back to the surface.

She staggered back to her room. Her hands still shaking, she fished out a cigarette from the pack hidden in an alcove under the mat in the corner and climbed out her window and onto the fire escape. Reached out with her senses, she could feel the last eddies of warm air rising from the day below, and her thoughts drifted back again to something the Avatar had said the previous afternoon.

“At some point I realized I just am this, I can’t get rid of it. It’s part of me and I need to find a way to live with that.”

She had known when the Avatar said them that those weren’t the words of someone who had been brainwashed into being a human weapon, or of someone indoctrinated into reciting a script. She seemed, of all things, genuine and at peace with herself, she had clearly found some way to reconcile what she was born as with who she wanted to become.

“Spirits, maybe even try and use it to help fix things.”

She wondered where this Avatar had been for the past seventeen years. What was it that allowed her to possess a sense of purpose without robbing her of her own agency, and how had she gotten to that point? Who were these people who had helped her and supported her as she wrestled with the implications of her birth and the consequences of the world’s expectations of her, who had allowed her to become herself in spite of them?

She was awkward, yes, and nervous, and it was clear that she was still very much a teenage girl, but Tsomo had sensed within her an assuredness that existed independent of the Avatar’s power. She moved with autonomy and purpose as her own person, as Korra.

Korra, so that was her name.

Realization washed over her, and she suddenly knew that she had already made the decision.

She took one last drag of her cigarette and then sat on the fire escape and released her emotions to the wind, breathing rhythmically until her consciousness was empty save for a single thought, Xai Bao’s Grove.

Chapter Text

“What the fuck were you THINKING?” Kuvira roared. She lurched up from the bed, disrupting Ming-Hua’s efforts to heal the massive gash still gently oozing blood down the side of her face.

Ming-Hua scowled at her. “Do you want me to fix this or not, headcase? Lie back down.”

“What was I thinking? I got us out of there! If it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in one of Tarrlok’s cells right now and those two boys would probably be dead!” Korra glared back at her, arms crossed tightly across her chest.

Kuvira rolled her lip and attempted to bite back a snarl. “Do you have even the faintest idea of the mess you just got us into?”

Korra attempted and failed to keep her voice even, her eyes betraying her uncertainty. “Nobody knows who I am or what I look like, my hood was up the entire time and my face was covered. We weren’t followed back here, we cleared out the apartment, and we’ve burned every trace of our presence in the city. We’re fine.”

Kuvira rolled her eyes, wincing at the pain. “You never fucking think, do you Avatar! Just the fact that you’re alive and in Republic City will be enough. By tomorrow, this entire place is going to be crawling with the White Lotus and Tarrlok’s goons. We should leave, now.”

By that point Korra was shouting. “No! What are they going to do, stop and frisk every waterbending girl in the city? We just got here, we haven’t done what we came here to do, and I’m not leaving.”

The two stared at each other radiating fury. Zaheer stepped between them and placed his hand on Korra’s shoulder, causing her to flinch involuntarily. Ming-Hua looked on, thoroughly exasperated.

“Kuvira is correct that tonight’s events will make things much more complicated for us, but—” he lifted his hand to Kuvira, forestalling her attempt to cut him off “—the fault here is ultimately mine. I should have anticipated the possibility of a large-scale raid by Tarrlok’s forces, and I should never have allowed us to become separated.”

“But Korra also has a point. We must give the airbender time to reconsider, this effort is too important for us to simply abandon it. We should lie low here for now, and only go down into the city when absolutely necessary.”

Zaheer’s words seemed to have the intended effect. Kuvira slumped back and closed her eyes, allowing Ming-Hua to resume her work. She shook her head. “You’re lucky I’m patient, kid. Any more outbursts like that and this’ll scar even worse.”

Korra began to pace the small room, her hands shaking.

Zaheer looked on in concern. “Last night was trying for all of us. Korra, please try and get some rest, you still haven’t slept.”

“Fine.” Korra’s voice cracked as she replied. She turned and walked out, pointedly avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Zaheer looked over at Nazra and tilted his head in the direction of the veranda. Naz nodded, giving Korra a few minutes before following after her.

Once Naz had left, P’Li turned to Zaheer.

“Zaheer. Outside, now.”

He nodded and followed her out. Kuvira sighed and closed her eyes, still dizzy from the pain and too exhausted to think. Her face tight with concentration, Ming-Hua kept the blue glow of her arm steady over Kuvira’s face, only looking up to share a familiar look of vexation with Ghazan.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.”

She led him in silence out across the field, winding along the rows of plants long since overgrown. When they reached the tree line at the base of the mountain, she stopped and stood in the shadow of a large maple. Zaheer knew better than to approach further, space was everything to her and the last thing she needed right now was to feel penned in.

P’Li glared at him, livid. She clenched her arms at her sides. “Zaheer, do you remember the promise you made me when we all agreed to do this?”

Zaheer looked downcast but resolved. “No unnecessary risks.”

“So what the fuck happened?” She snapped at him, her anger and frustration masking the fear underneath.

Zaheer met her eyes for a moment and then looked down, deflating slightly. “I made a mistake, one that I cannot and will not repeat.”

“A mistake?” P’Li gave him a look of maddened incredulity. “You left them alone during a political rally for a group we know almost nothing about, to do what, exactly?”

Zaheer sighed, shame seeping into his voice. “I thought it would be useful to gauge the thoughts and intentions of the crowd. But no one could have predicted—”

P’Li cut him off, her voice rising. “Do you remember what happened the last time you made a mistake? Senna lying there with her head bashed open, and Tonraq...”

“You think I could ever forget?” Zaheer shouted, his voice catching with pain and regret.

“We couldn’t protect them that time either.” P’Li said, her voice wavering.

“That wasn’t your fault. That was never your fault.” Zaheer said softly.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I lost perspective. I failed to consider all of the possibilities and put Korra and Kuvira at risk, and when something unexpected happened I was unable to help them. I failed them, and I’m as angry with myself as you are with me.”

“You also put yourself at risk.” P’Li stated. It was a reminder as much as an accusation.

“Yes, that too.”

P’Li’s anger faded only to be replaced by exhaustion and worry. The tension she had built up released and she found herself shaking. Closing the space between them in a single step, she buried him in her chest, her arms around his neck and her chin nestled in the stubble atop his head. Her breaths were fast and ragged, Zaheer matched hers with his own and then slowed, gently calming them both.

“This is starting to feel like Date Grove all over again, the plan goes wrong and we just pick up the pieces.”

“I disappointed you, and I know that you’re angry with me and scared. But we will not let that happen this time.”

P’Li spoke, her voice small. “I can’t lose the girls, I can’t lose you.”

“I know, you won’t.”

P’Li pulled away and looked down at him, her gaze unwavering. “From now on we do this together—no more separations, no more ad-hoc plans, and no more unnecessary risks.”

“No more separations.” Zaheer repeated. P’Li pulled him close again and let the tears fall. They held each other for a while longer, taking comfort in each other’s presence as the sun rose and the fields began to hum with life.

Nazra found her beside the well behind the house. Korra sat with her knees pulled tight to her chest, her eyes vacant and staring out into the distance, face wet with tears.

“What happened?”

Korra wouldn’t look at her, she only started rocking back and forth.

“There were so many of them, they were all around us. Kuvira got knocked out, I thought she was dead. One of them pulled the building down over us, right over the two boys. I brought a wall of earth up around them and then… they were all closing in on me, I tried to go into the Avatar state but nothing came, I got so scared… I just started hitting them with everything, I didn’t care, it was horrible. I remember catching one of them with a spear of ice, I could feel it going through his chest… waves of fire… earth breaking their bodies. There was so much screaming, and the blood…” Korra’s eyes went wide with panic and disgust.

Korra pulled at the fabric of her sleeves, wiping at blood that wasn’t there. “I couldn’t get it off of me, I kept trying to get it off of me. And then they were lying there dead, I don’t know how many, I killed them.”

“You were defending yourself, you saved Kuvira and those boys.”

Naz tried to reach out to her but Korra pulled away, repeating the same words over and over.

“I killed them.”

“I killed them.”

She found her mother on the veranda, practicing forms.

“Mom, it’s Korra. She’s in bad shape, she’s still shaking and she won’t even make eye contact with me. I tried to help but she just pushed me away. Can you go talk to her, please? I think she needs you right now.”

P’Li stood up from the stretch, focusing her breath. She turned to Nazra, who looked stricken.

“I’ll go to her.”

Nazra nodded and thanked her, hesitating a moment before she turned to go.

“Is there something else you need to say?”

Nazra looked away, debating whether to say what she had been thinking ever since last night. “I should have been there, I could have helped.”

“And what would you have done, blown up those men?” Her voice was calm but tinged with accusation. So, it was going to be this again.

Nazra straightened, her eyes level with P’Li’s. “No matter how badly you want me to just pretend it isn’t there, it’s part of me. Someday I am going to use it.”

Her mother’s expression tightened in discomfort mingled with frustration and regret.

P’Li sighed. “It’s not… you don’t understand what people are like out there. Your height, the tattoo over your Ājñā… people will realize what they mean, and they’ll target you for it.”

Nazra exhaled sharply and threw up her hands. “Then let them! I won’t hide here forever just because you’re scared I’ll get hurt.”

“It’s not that simple! Taking another’s life, it stays with you. And if anything were to happen to you…” the words died in P’Li’s throat.

Nazra scowled, her frustration mounting. “I thought you of all people would understand the value of freedom and choice. Or would you prefer to forget all that and leave me locked away in Zaofu?”

She knew she had gone too far when she saw the chill come over her mother. “We’re done talking about this. I’m going to see your sister.”

P’Li walked past her without another word.

“Hi.”

Korra tried to form words but they died at the back of her throat. P’Li sat down beside her with surprising grace, leaving a hand’s breadth between them.

“Are you still back there?” P’Li’s voice was gentle.

Korra just nodded.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“The burning, I can’t get the smell to go away.” Korra was red and covered in tiny scratches, it was clear that she’d scrubbed herself raw. P’Li had to fight back her own memories of burning flesh.

“I feel sick, like I’m tainted, like I’m a monster.”

“You are not a monster, you are my daughter.”

“But those people—”

“They deserved it.” P’Li stated, as if it were simply a fact. “They chose their side and they fought for it. They hurt hundreds of innocent people, they tried to kill you and Kuvira. And they would have hurt many more if you hadn’t stopped them. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Then why do I feel like this?” Korra began to sob.

“Because you’re human. Even when it is just, killing is never easy.”

“Does it get easier?”

P’Li gave her a sad smile. “No, but you learn to accept the feelings that come with it. You will always carry the weight of the lives you’ve taken, but if you understand why you took them and know that it was for the right reasons, you can come to accept it and not hate yourself for it.”

“H–how do I know if it was for the right r–reasons?”

“You look within yourself and to the people you trust, and you never stop asking that question.”

Korra leaned over and collapsed into her lap, her body wracked with gasping tears. P’Li just held her and ran her hand in small circles through Korra’s hair, short and dark and still singed in places. She continued until her crying stopped and her breath finally slowed. Lifting her gently, she carried her back into the house and placed her on the sleeping roll, covering her with a blanket. P’Li gave her one last look before gently sliding the door closed.

Korra opened her eyes to find herself on a small island at the center of a pond surrounded by trees taller than any she had ever seen. The moon shown overhead, its light hemmed in by the canopy around the clearing leaving the opposite shore dark in every direction. The moss below her fingers crackled with energy and small shoots emerged around her, seemingly drawn by her presence. Before she had a chance to adjust to her surroundings, she realized she was not alone.

“Avatar Korra.”

She turned to see a woman nearly as tall as P’Li standing over her. She wore a flowing green kimono laced with armor, and her face was painted in the manner of old Earth Kingdom operas.

“Kyoshi.”

“Where are we?”

“Does it matter?”

“Why are you here?”

“You tell me, you called me.”

“I… I killed people, and I think part of me felt good doing it.” Korra’s fears seemed to magnify as she admitted it to herself.

Kyoshi arched an eyebrow. “Are you expecting me to castigate you? I’m not Aang.”

“I guess not, I just… how can I trust myself to be the Avatar if I’m somehow okay with killing people?”

“Do you take pleasure in killing, Korra?”

“No! Of course not!” Korra looked horrified. “It wasn’t like that, it felt… I don’t know, righteous somehow. Like they needed to be stopped and I had the power to stop them.”

“Then you have your answer. This recrimination is beneath us.”

Before Korra could ask her what she’d meant, Kyoshi faded into nothingness. The forest around her soon followed.

“Kuvira.”

The guard stepped out from behind a tree, breaking him from meditation.

“Hello, Zaheer. May we speak?”

Zaheer raised an eyebrow, but nodded and gestured for her to sit.

“You may have Korra convinced with your kindly mentor act, but I know you’re not just in Republic City for her training. The Red Lotus conducted other sorts of activities before you were in Zaofu, and I want in on whatever you’re planning.”

“I assure you it’s no act, and I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I was the captain of Zaofu’s city guard and a member of Suyin’s inner circle. I’m not a complete idiot, Zaheer.”

Zaheer had the grace to recognize when he had lost. “Was?”

“After what I did last night I won’t be welcome back. Suyin may have raised me and trained me, but there are many things on which we don’t see eye-to-eye, the use of violence chief among them. She had her doubts about sending me with you for that very reason.”

“Then why did she?”

“To rein in your worst impulses and report back to her, of course.” Kuvira laughed bitterly. “She may have had her qualms, but I’m still the most talented combat metalbender Zaofu has ever seen, and she saw me as the only one who even stood a chance of keeping you in check. And besides, part of her still sees me as that eight-year-old girl she rescued from the slums of the Lower Ring, she is either unable or unwilling to believe that I could ever disagree with her on principle.”

“Your modesty does you many favors.” Zaheer chuckled. “But I must ask, why do you wish to help us? I assume there’s more to it than just family.”

Kuvira blanched at that last word but recovered and answered him plainly. “Because I’ve seen the misery of the world, and I know that sometimes the only correct response to the people who perpetrate it is to end them. Fighting Tarrlok’s men, it felt righteous, it felt right. For the first time in my life, it felt like I was actually confronting the problem, not just debating it.”

He seemed to ponder for a moment. “I will discuss your request with the others, but I make no promises.”

“Thank you, Zaheer.”

Kuvira left, leaving Zaheer looking troubled. He knew that Suyin would not forgive them if he acceded to Kuvira’s request, and he still had his doubts about her motivations and ultimate loyalties. But he could not deny that she would be an invaluable asset. Her combat abilities were exceptional, and despite a certain pride in his own abilities, he had to admit that her strategic prowess rivalled his own. He needed to meet with the other three privately, and soon.

That afternoon, Ghazan asked Nazra and Kuvira to go out into the forest and forage for mushrooms and whatever else they could find for dinner that night. Kuvira at least took the hint.

Once they had left and P’Li had confirmed that Korra was still soundly asleep two rooms away, the four adults gathered in the sitting room.

Ming-Hua began. “Now that we’re staying, we need to talk about the status of our secondary objective.”

“We should abandon it, any action we take now will just draw more unwanted attention. Unless of course you’re in the mood to take more foolish risks?” P’Li asked, her eyes meeting Zaheer’s. Her tone was cool, but a trace of pointed anger still lingered.

Zaheer returned her glance and nodded. “Our secrecy is already compromised. We can be certain that Tarrlok at least knows of Korra’s presence, and given the way that fight went it’s likely the Equalists know as well. It would be best to keep our activities to a minimum until we can ascertain exactly how much they know and what they intend to do with that information.”

Ming-Hua did not seem so convinced. “Not to be the cynic, but I doubt we can ignore the situation entirely for long, at least not if we want to stay in the United Republic. Tarrlok’s already pinning the carnage last night on the Equalists, he’s using it as an excuse to impose a curfew on all nonbenders and ramp up task force activity even more. Things are going to spiral out of hand.”

Ghazan agreed. “If we don’t take them both out Tarrlok and Amon will keep feeding off each other, each stoking the tension for their own ends. I’d bet on the discount Dai Li winning out eventually, but it’ll get ugly.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. The Equalists aren’t some plucky grassroots movement.” Ming-Hua shot back. “Someone with deep pockets is funding them, Cabbage Corp if the papers are anything to go by.”

“Oh come on!” Ghazan snorted. “I don’t buy that load of crap for a second, the whole thing reeks of a setup. Lau Gan-Lan can barely wipe his own ass, let alone covertly fund a revolution. There were no production lines, no trail of correspondence, and the handful of poor sods they arrested along with him are all low-level followers, not Equalist leadership.”

“So who then?” P’Li snapped, exasperated.

Ghazan shrugged. “My bet would be on Sato, he has the resources and he’s a nonbender with a grudge, the triads killed his wife in a break-in years ago.”

Ming-Hua seemed to agree. “The timing makes sense. Framing Cabbage Corp plays right into their hands, Future Industries is already preparing a hostile takeover now that Lau’s out.”

P’Li was more skeptical. “That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s in bed with the Equalists. What if he’s working with Tarrlok instead? Tarrlok needs the support of the major corporate players to consolidate his power, and Future Industries is the largest single corporation in the Republic. If his takeover succeeds Sato will have a near-monopoly over the manufacturing sector.”

“Sato, a nonbender, conspiring with Tarrlok of all people to frame his rival? I don’t buy it.” Ming-Hua shot back with equal skepticism.

“Oh please, I doubt either Sato or Tarrlok would let that get in the way. They certainly don’t appear to be friends, but Sato still has deep financial ties to the Council, and the Equalist tech they discovered at Cabbage Corp could just as easily have come from Tarrlok’s raid last night.”

Zaheer frowned. “Both are plausible, we don’t yet have reason to rule either out. It’s clear we need more information, perhaps Korra can help us given her newfound friendship with the Sato girl.”

“We will not involve Korra in this.” P’Li’s tone was sharp enough to make Ghazan flinch despite his size.

Zaheer’s face softened. “I did not mean to imply that. But we both know she’s going to sneak away to see the Sato girl again regardless of what we say or do.” He added with a wry smile.

“It would do no harm to simply ask her to be observant when she does so. Besides, if she goes with our knowledge and approval we will at least know where she is going and when, and we can formulate an extraction plan should anything unexpected happen.”

That seemed to mellow P’Li’s defensiveness slightly, but she still appeared wary.

Ming-Hua looked at her friend. “I’ll be the first to fault airhead here for his piss-poor planning so far, but on this he’s got a point.”

P’Li nodded but said nothing. It was left to Zaheer to puncture the uneasy silence that had settled over the group.

“I’m afraid there’s one more matter. Kuvira approached me this afternoon and asked us to involve her in our plans.”

Zaheer proceeded to summarize his conversation with the young metalbender, and then looked to the group for a response.

Ming-Hua scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

Ghazan threw up his hands in response. “Are you kidding? I know she’s wound tighter than Izumi’s knickers, but are we forgetting last night? She sliced up a dozen of Tarrlok’s finest like sashimi without so much as breaking a sweat. I’d certainly feel a lot better with her alongside us.”

To their collective surprise, P’Li agreed. “I’m in favor. She protected Korra when we could not, in fact, her tactical instincts so far have been almost entirely correct. My only concern is with her motivations.”

“And you, Zaheer?”

“Her skillset would be invaluable, but I agree that we need to know more about why she wants to involve herself before we trust her with our plans. Perhaps we can meet with her as a group tomorrow.”

“Be sure to warn her to steel herself.”

Ghazan looked entirely too pleased as P’Li and Zaheer both groaned simultaneously. Ming-Hua thwacked him across the head with her arm, leaving him soaked.

Zaheer found her just before dinner, sitting up in bed with her back to the wall.

She sighed and hung her head as he entered. “There are so many things wrong here, how am I supposed to bring balance? I’m so overwhelmed and this is all so big…”

Zaheer sat in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Korra, if there is one thing that I have tried to teach you, it is that bringing balance is not the same thing as imposing it. The Avatar’s purpose is not to force balance upon the world, it’s to bring about the conditions for the world to balance itself. You will never be able to right every wrong and fix every injustice.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Korra looked up at him, eyes defiant and full of tears.

“Oppose those who use imbalance as a tool for control and empower people to choose their own paths free of oppression and exploitation. And know this, you will never have to fight alone; we will be right there alongside you, and there will always be others who share our hope for a better world and the willingness to fight for it.”

Korra stilled and looked up at him, exhaustion and worry in her eyes. “I’m still afraid.”

“Of what?” Zaheer asked, gently.

“Amon, what if he takes my bending? Then what use will I be?”

Zaheer sighed and rearranged himself to sit beside her. He thought for a moment, and then asked, “Korra, what is the Avatar?”

Korra looked at him in confusion. “The master of all four—”

Zaheer stopped her. “No, that is merely something the Avatar is known for in this world, a skill the Avatar possesses. The Avatar is a bridge, the human bonded to Raava, the living link between the spiritual and material planes. Amon cannot take that from you.”

“But what if he could? I mean, we don’t know—” Korra choked.

“I very much doubt that’s possible. But even if he could, you would still be Korra, and that will always be enough. I do not love and care for the Avatar. I love Korra, my daughter. And I know P’Li and Nazra feel the same.”

“The world is not on your shoulders, Korra. And you are not alone.”

For the first time that day Korra smiled.

“T–Thanks.” It was all Korra could muster before collapsing against his shoulder.

Everyone had already begun eating by the time Korra shambled in with Zaheer. She took a seat next to Nazra, while he sat opposite her at the table and whispered something to P’Li, who had to bend over sideways to meet him. As she leaned back up, she caught Korra’s eyes and gave her an encouraging smile.

Ghazan of course was unfazed by such petty pleasantries. “We leave her alone for two days and she beds an heiress and destroys a city block.” He turned to Korra, grinning.

Korra’s eyes went wide. “Wha—no, Asami w—just, beingnice.” She stammered, turning red.

Ghazan raised his eyebrows suggestively, making the problem worse.

“Go easy on her, spirits know she’s had a day.” Ming-Hua chided.

“Fine, fine. It’s not my fault she has good taste.”

Ming-Hua whacked him.

“How about you, woman of steel? Anyone special in your life?”

Ghazan has a death wish, Korra thought to herself.

“I’m focused on the mission, as you should be.” Kuvira replied, curtly.

Ghazan pressed his luck. “What, no lucky lady waiting for you back home in the chrome dome?”

To Kuvira’s intense dismay, Korra interjected. “There was always Bataar Jr.”

Kuvira shot her a look of pure loathing.

“That was brief and inconsequential.”

“I’m sure he was.” P’Li replied with a wink, surprising everyone.

The entire room burst into laughter, even Kuvira couldn’t help but smile.

Nazra was the first to notice it, that distant look Zaheer got when he felt a tug from the Spirit World.

Zaheer went slack, and the room dropped into silence.

He found her seated under the tree, her tattoos shaded green by the yellow-orange sky and an unreadable expression on her face. She turned her head to acknowledge his presence.

“Master Tsomo, my name is Zaheer.” He bowed in greeting.

Tsomo shuddered. “If we’re going to do this, don’t ever call me ‘master’ again.”

Zaheer acknowledged his faux pas with a nod. “So, I take it you’ve reconsidered?”

She made a noncommittal expression. “You could say that. First though, I want to know who you are, and what do you have to do with the Avatar.”

“Reasonable enough. Are you familiar with the history of the White Lotus?” Zaheer asked.

“Some of it.” Tsomo paused, a look of realization spreading across her face. “Wait, Xai Bao’s Grove, Xai Bao… you’re the Red Lotus.”

Zaheer was taken aback, impressed. This was not how he had imagined this conversation going. “You could say that. The Red Lotus was never really an organization, more a set of ideals shared by people with similar aims.”

“And those are?” Tsomo asked, devoid of the hostility he had been expecting.

“To rid the world of those who would imbalance it and impose their will on others without their consent.” It was a simple enough answer.

“And I take it that process doesn’t usually consist of asking them nicely.” Tsomo replied archly.

Zaheer laughed despite himself. “Not generally, no.”

“Some people might be less delicate… I believe I’ve heard the phrase ‘anarchist terrorists’ used once or twice.” Tsomo replied, a smile playing across her face.

Zaheer studied her for a moment, unsure how to react. She was being surprisingly calm about all of this, much more so than he’d expected. “You don’t seem to have a problem with that.”

Tsomo paused. “Have you heard of Guru Shentong?”

The name blindsided Zaheer, and he was unable to hide the surprise on his face. “I am aware of her teachings, yes.”

“Then you know my answer.”

That answers some questions, but raises a great number of others. Zaheer thought to himself.

Tsomo interrupted him from his thoughts. “And Korra, how does she fit into this?”

Zaheer considered how best to proceed. “Did your father ever tell you what became of the Avatar?”

“Not really. Only that she disappeared along with her parents shortly after she was discovered.”

“Their names were Tonraq and Senna.” Zaheer saw Tsomo’s expression change almost imperceptibly at the word were. “Shortly after Korra first started bending multiple elements, they were approached by your father along with Unalaq, Tonraq’s brother and Chief of the Water Tribes, on behalf of the White Lotus. The plan was to take Korra away and train her in an isolated compound, allegedly for her own safety. We received word of Korra’s discovery from a source in a neighboring tribe and I immediately travelled down to meet them, hoping to get there before Korra was in the White Lotus’ grasp. We spoke and I offered them a different path for Korra, one in which they could raise their daughter in anonymity. It wasn’t an easy choice, it meant giving up their safety and security in exchange for their daughter’s freedom and a chance to stay with her. Ultimately they agreed, and we smuggled all three of them out of the Southern Water Tribe late that very night. They lived alongside us in obscurity for a number of years as we traveled the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom and raised our own daughter, barely older than Korra. Eventually the White Lotus caught up with us in the Si Wong desert, led by Unalaq. They attacked us with overwhelming force, Senna was killed and Tonraq sacrificed his own life to hold them off long enough for us to escape. We sought refuge in a city to the west, and raised Korra as our own daughter.”

“Quite a story.” Tsomo raised her eyebrows at him, “Even if it’s true, you can’t expect me to believe that your intentions for Korra are entirely neutral.”

Zaheer laughed, catching Tsomo completely off guard. “Of course not! Our intention for her is simple. We want her to be autonomous, a force truly free from the sway of governments and those in power. We support her and advise her, and we’ve helped train her, but we do not control her. I suggest that when you meet her again you take a moment to speak with her alone and away from us, you can judge her motivations and relationship to us yourself.”

Tsomo looked unsure for a few moments before reaching a decision. “Very well.”

Zaheer nodded. “On behalf of Korra, thank you.”

“We can start tomorrow. Though I take it you’re not going to just drop her off at the apartment?” Tsomo gave him a lopsided smile.

Zaheer chuckled. “We’ll send someone to pick you up. Her name is Kuvira, she’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning at eight in a satomobile on the corner of 75th and Yaoxi.”

“Well, at least you won’t need to bring a blindfold.” Tsomo grinned.

Zaheer found himself at a loss for how to respond, which seemed to amuse Tsomo even more. He bowed one last time, and releasing his thoughts he felt himself slipping back to the physical plane.

After what seemed like an eternity Zaheer returned, a smile on his face that was many years younger than his age.

“It was Tsomo, she’s agreed to train Korra.”

Chapter Text

The trip had been uneventful, all things considered. Her driver was a tense woman who had the attitude of one not easily drawn into casual conversation, the faint smell of ozone around her marked her as a metalbender. That had made Tsomo briefly panic—did she just walk into a police sting, or worse yet a task force trap? —but she relaxed a bit once she reminded herself that neither her mother nor Tarrlok would plot out something this elaborately absurd.

That being said Kuvira definitely wasn’t a civilian, of that much she was certain. The tightly controlled rhythm of her breathing and the way she constantly shifted to check her surroundings practically screamed combat training. Tsomo briefly considered the possibility that the metalbender could be a disaffected ex-cop but dismissed it, absolutely nothing about her said ‘Republic City.’ That left only one conclusion, and she couldn’t help but laugh. Just when she thought this situation couldn’t get any more ridiculous…

She’d complied with Kuvira’s request to keep the windows rolled up for the duration of the drive and so she was surprised when she opened the door only to smell the sharp tang of mountain air, mingled fir and maple. They had pulled somewhere off a main road, the sound of satomobiles in the distance muffled by foliage. She waited as Kuvira bent up a small wall of earth and covered the satomobile with branches to keep it from being spotted from the roadway. They followed a winding path up what had once been an access road, years of neglect and several small landslides had left it passable only on foot. Pushing through the last of the underbrush she felt the fresh breeze of a small clearing, air that smelled of damp moss deflecting off a wall to one side.

If she was being honest, Tsomo felt a bit silly. She’d been half-expecting to be led down a secret tunnel deep below a mountain to find a den of uniformed rebels plotting revolution around a table. Instead, she found herself listening to the sounds of an odd assortment of people waiting patiently at the gate of what smelled like a very overgrown tea plantation.

The first to greet her was Zaheer, his calm and collected air hiding a specific kind of scholarly delight she was all too familiar with from visitors to Air Temple Island. He had a subtle energy about him that she couldn’t quite place, she filed it away as something to investigate later. Next of course was Korra, all taut muscle and energy, her barely screened defensiveness warring with obvious excitement. Leaning against the pillar of the gate beside her was a tall, exceptionally well-built man with an easy bearing who Zaheer introduced as Ghazan.

The remaining three gave her pause. First, there was a small woman whose arms weren’t arms at all, but rather extensions of her qì in the form of perfectly controlled tendrils of water. The woman, she realized, was waterbending with her mind, and doing so with apparent ease. Next to her stood two incredibly tall women, one a thumb’s width shorter than the other but both at least a head taller than her. She immediately sensed something strange about them in the way their qì seemed to pull upwards, concentrating at their ājñā so intensely that she could actually feel a faint warmth.

Realization hit her and her blood ran cold—she was standing in front of not one but two combustionbenders. She had to suppress the immediate urge to flee, not that it would have done her any good. The taller of the two seemed to pick up on her discomfort and tensed, it took all her self-control not to shrink back. The other however showed no signs of wariness or hostility, if anything she seemed as dumbstruck by her as she was by them.

So, that made two women with an ability that was little more than a terrifying legend, a nonbender who could enter the Spirit World at will, a woman who could bend water with her mind, someone she was fairly certain was an operative from Zaofu, and the literal Avatar. She took a moment and let herself be ravished by the sheer implausibility of it all.

What was weirdest was the way they seemed to act around one another. To all the world they could just have been a very odd extended family.

Zaheer’s voice broke her from her reverie. “Everyone, this is Mas–Tsomo. Tsomo, this is P’Li, our daughter Nazra, Ghazan, and Ming-Hua. You’ve met Kuvira, and Korra of course needs no introduction.”

So they were a family. What the spirits was going on here?

Tsomo collected herself, there would be time to find answers later. She put on her best cocky smile.

“Please, for the love of Raava no more fucking bowing, or ‘Master,’ or ‘sifu.’” She turned her head in warning to Korra. “It’s just Tsomo.”

The Avatar wasted no time. “Well then Tsomo, where do we start?”

Korra followed Tsomo out into the courtyard while the rest of the group retreated to the veranda to watch. The airbender stood facing her barefoot and unarmed, wearing only her ratty white robes.

“Before we begin with air, I need to sense how you bend the other elements. Let’s start with a bit of sparring, shall we? Try and hit me, use any element you’d like. Surprise me.”

Korra felt nervous. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tsomo shot her a vicious grin. “Confident, aren’t we? Come on Avatar, let’s see what you can do.”

The two assumed fighting positions on either end of the courtyard. Korra dropped into a traditional earthbending stance while Tsomo crouched low and rolled forward onto the balls of her feet. Korra struck, launching a stream of water at her without warning. Tsomo laughed and shot herself upward on a gust of air, dodging it entirely and landing back on the ground with a soft thud.

“Nice misdirection, but you’ll have to do better than that.”

Korra spun and launched a whip of fire at her in an attempt to encircle her and cut her off, but Tsomo just rolled out of the way and returned to her crouch.

“Come on, quit wasting my time.”

Growling at her, Korra stomped and sent a block of earth flying up beneath Tsomo’s feet while simultaneously spinning out a whip of water to catch her. Tsomo seemed to have been expecting it—she bounced harmlessly as the earth below her shot up and spun again, dodging the water whip. Korra decided to change tactics, launching volleys of metal and ice. Tsomo just smirked as she jumped sideways and twisted, gliding up and over her with a gust of wind. At the peak of her arc she fired a blast of air directly down on Korra, knocking her flat on her back.

“Not bad. But you’re too much of an earthbender, all hard stances and defensive positions. You need to connect your attacks and let each element flow into the next. Again!”

The cycle repeated a few more times, each attempt ending with Korra plastered face down in the dirt and Tsomo cackling. Korra was becoming increasingly frustrated, her form sloppy as she lashed out, unable to so much as scratch the airbender.

“Is that all you’ve got for me, master of three elements?”

Korra snarled and charged again.

Ghazan sat in the shade of the veranda with Ming-Hua curled happily in his lap. P’Li had disappeared back inside to the kitchen some time ago and Kuvira had joined her, muttering something about how watching the Avatar embarrass herself was getting repetitive. Ming-Hua turned to look at their remaining companions and snorted. Zaheer sat transfixed with an expression of pure awe on his face, Ming-Hua couldn’t help but find it a little unsettling to see her perpetually serious friend now giddy as a schoolboy.

“Just when I thought he couldn’t get more insufferable.”

Ghazan laughed in agreement. “This is worse than the time we discovered that old library in the Si Wong.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. He’s just lucky P’Li finds babbling on about scrolls such a turn on.”

“Someone has to.”

Ming-Hua’s gaze drifted over to the lanky figure standing next to her father. Nazra was no less focused on the bout, not once taking her eyes off the airbender. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the girl was flushing. Effortlessly dodging another blast of fire from Korra, Tsomo turned to them all with a grin and winked. Naz looked like she was about to topple backwards.

A sly smile crossed Ming-Hua’s face. “He’s clearly not the only one with a problem.”

Ghazan turned to where she was looking and raised his eyebrow, chuckling in amusement. “Huh, looks like it runs in the family.”

“50 yuan they’ll be falling all over each other by the end of the month.”

“If she’s as oblivious in that regard as her father was, that’s a very poor bet.”

The two finally broke for lunch, Korra seeming somewhat worse for wear. Tsomo had sensed enough to judge Korra’s weak points and there was no point exhausting her further, especially as she still had one more exercise planned for the day. The group ate in the cool shade, Korra sat and stabbed sullenly at the vegetables in her bowl. Ming-Hua and Ghazan leaned together, quietly snickering about something. Meanwhile Zaheer and his partner were deep in conversation, leaving her with just Kuvira and the younger combustionbender.

Tsomo smiled in the direction of Kuvira. “So, how are Aunt Su and her brood these days?”

The metalbender spat out her tea. “How—?”

So, her guess had been correct. Tsomo took a moment to feel smug. “You’re a metalbender trained in combat with no badge and a haircut so dowdy my grandmother wouldn’t wear it, where else would you be from? And you’re here with this lot, which means you aren’t just some random guard either.”

“They’re… fine.” Kuvira responded sharply after a long pause.

Tsomo raised an eyebrow but decided not to press the issue. The hitch in Kuvira's breath and the way her heart was racing made it clear that there was much more going on. Scorned protégé perhaps? Yet another reason why her mother could never find out about this. She shuddered at how Lin would react if she discovered that her sister was providing material aid to anarchist terrorists and her daughter was training them.

Kuvira quickly excused herself, leaving just the two of them.

Tsomo pushed past her trepidation. “It’s Nazra, right?”

Nazra started and inhaled sharply, dropping her chopsticks. Tsomo did her best not to flinch.

“M-yeah.” Nazra stuttered out.

Okay, so she’s as nervous as you are. But why?

“You’re Zaheer and Pi Li’s daughter, right? Did you and Korra grow up together?”

“It’s P’Li, but yeah, we did. She and her parents came to live with us when I was four, after her parents died we took her in. She’s always been kind of a twin sister to me, we traveled a lot growing up and I didn’t get to meet many other kids my age. Well not twin I guess, she’s not freakishly tall and she’s a lot angrier and also sort of the Avatar. Sorry, I’m babbling...” Nazra hunched in embarrassment, fiddling with her pants.

The way she talked made her seem like just a nervous girl, not someone who could turn her to ash with her mind. Something about her was almost endearing.

“You talk about your height like it’s a bad thing.” Tsomo gave her a lopsided smile.

Nazra laughed nervously. “It can make it kind of a challenge to blend in.”

“She says to the blind bald girl covered in giant blue tattoos.”

Nazra burst out laughing, Tsomo couldn’t help but join her.

“Yeah, I can see how that might be a problem. Is that how you ended up with your eye like that?” Nazra's voice turned hesitant.

Tsomo stiffened. Shit, I’d almost forgotten about that. She decided to try and brush it off, not wanting to linger on the topic.

“It’s nothing, I’ve come home with worse. And besides, it can’t be as bad as any of the last dozen photos in the gossip rags.”

“Gossip rags?” Nazra asked, puzzlement in her tone. Tsomo was confused for a moment before she remembered where they were.

“Ah. Yeah, sorry. I guess you don’t really get the papers up here.” She replied, desperately kicking herself for even bringing it up.

Nazra shrugged. “Kuvira brings them, but she only ever gets the broadsheets. I’ve been trying to convince her to grab magazines or at least tabloids, all I have to read up here are the Republic City Financial Times and dad’s airbending scrolls.”

Tsomo seized on the chance to change the topic. “Your dad has airbending scrolls here?”

Nazra’s voice rose a bit and then faltered. “Yeah! Though I suppose I probably shouldn’t tell you where he got them from.”

Tsomo started cackling. “He didn’t.”

She sensed Nazra's face widen into a grin. “He did.”

She shot one right back. “I think I’m beginning to like your dad, even if he can be a little—”

“—obnoxious? overenthusiastic? weirdly reverential?” Nazra finished, clearly sympathetic.

Tsomo let out a small, bitter laugh. “Just when I thought I’d finally rid myself of Air Acolytes…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.” Nazra sighed, sounding mildly annoyed.

“I swear to Raava, if he calls me ‘Master Tsomo’ or bows to me one more time I will not be responsible for what happens next.” Tsomo replied in mock warning.

“I can’t say I’d blame you.” Nazra laughed, shaking her head in vicarious embarrassment.

Following lunch, the group meandered back out into the courtyard in twos and threes. To Zaheer’s bemusement, Tsomo pulled him aside and requested a bowl full of azuki beans and fabric for a blindfold. Korra was the last to arrive, she made her way out onto the dirt clearly still smarting and on edge from the morning.

“Stand there and put this on, make sure to tie it tightly.” Tsomo handed her the blindfold and took up a position a half-dozen paces away with the bowl. Korra complied, giving her a confused look.

“Before you can control air, you must be able to sense it.”

Tsomo bent a small, sharp gust of air and sent a bean flying at Korra, who yelped as it stung her in the cheek.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

Tsomo just ignored her. “Reach out with your mind, follow the currents and sense the air around you.”

She shot another bean at Korra, hitting her in the collarbone and causing her to let out a howl of exasperation.

“You should be able to sense the beans as they travel towards you, all you need to do is step out of their way. Allow the reservoir of qì at the top of your breastbone to release—pause, regulate your breath, and feel outwards.”

Korra had little time to recover before she flung two more, one directly at Korra’s forehead and the other bouncing off the tree behind her. She managed to dodge the first but the second stung her in the back of the shoulder, earning another yelp. Korra gritted her teeth and clenched her fists.

“Good. Stop tensing, it blocks the flow of your qì.”

Tsomo grabbed an entire handful of beans and with a powerful blast of air sent them flying in all directions, ricocheting off trees and beams back towards Korra. She wove and ducked, avoiding some but not nearly all.

“Aaaaaaaaaargh, Kyoshi’s tits!”

Tsomo raised her eyebrow, smiling. “Wouldn’t those technically be yours?”

Korra reddened and Ghazan burst out laughing, earning an elbow to the head from Zaheer.

Tsomo twisted her arm and flung another volley before the distracted Avatar could react.

“Awareness is only the first step, how you move in response is equally important. Quit dodging in lines, you need to start thinking in spirals and curves. Connect each motion to the next, sense the air and let it guide your body out of harm’s way.”

They continued for nearly an hour until the bowl was half-empty and Korra’s exposed skin was covered in hundreds of tiny red welts. After a particularly sharp hit to the temple, Korra finally threw up her arms in exasperation and stormed off in a huff, a stream of expletives trailing behind her.

Tsomo shrugged. “Not bad for a first day.”

This is going to be a very long few months. Zaheer thought.

Kuvira escorted Tsomo back down into the city just as the sun was setting.

“Tomorrow, same time?”

Kuvira grunted in the affirmative. “I’ll be at the corner of 8th and Liaofeng. You have an alibi prepared to explain your absences?”

Tsomo shrugged dismissively. “If anyone asks, I’m retreating to the mountain shrines to meditate, but she’s been so preoccupied with the Equalists and Tarrlok’s goons I doubt she’ll even notice I’m gone.”

Kuvira didn’t have to ask who she meant. “Still, it can’t hurt to be cautious. See you tomorrow.”

It was well into night by the time she got back to the mountain. She made a mental note to get fuel the next morning and pick up some magazines so Nazra would stop pestering her about it.

Zaheer met her just as she walked through the gate. “Kuvira, I trust everything went smoothly?”

She nodded, and he tilted his head in thanks before giving her an appraising look. “I was wondering if you might have a moment? The children are asleep, and the four of us would like to speak with you.”

“Of course.”

Kuvira followed Zaheer across the courtyard and through the sliding doors into the living room, unsure what to expect. Ghazan and Ming-Hua were seated opposite her at the small table, P’Li stood leaning in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest. Zaheer motioned for her to sit and took the cushion next to her.

“We’ve discussed your request, and while we have no doubts as to your abilities, we would like to hear more about your motivations before we agree to involve you in any plans.”

Kuvira sighed, she’d hoped to avoid this.

“Where would you like me to begin?”

“You could tell us what’s going on between you and Su, for one thing.”

Ghazan, of course. Kuvira winced and braced herself, trying to speak with as little inflection as possible.

“I assumed you already knew most of my sob story, Su always did love to trot it out to people.” She found it impossible to hide the bitterness in her voice.

P’Li’s voice was gentle, if guarded. “We know her perspective, what we don’t know is yours.”

“Su always made a point to tell me that she considered me her daughter. Have you seen the family portrait that hangs in her office?”

A look of comprehension flickered across Zaheer’s face.

“I’m not in it. I wasn’t in a lot of things. Su trained me and gave me a roof over my head, and for that I’m grateful, but she never really considered me hers. It never seemed to matter to her that it was never official, or that my brothers and sister treated me more as a servant than as a sibling; I felt more like an obligation than a child. She even seemed relieved when I moved out to join the city guard at fifteen. I don’t think she ever really stopped seeing me as a charity case.”

Zaheer looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry for that. Su has the right intentions, but she’s often blind to her own faults.”

“Fine, you had a difficult relationship with your mother, so did I. That still doesn’t explain why you’re here and why we’re having this discussion.” Ming-Hua’s eyes bore into her.

“In the last three years, Su and I started having… disagreements. Jianyin and Yi were plagued by a local warlord, Yatsen they called him. He went from village to village stealing anything of value and burning the rest. He’d pressgang any boy older than twelve into his army, and the women, well...”

As Kuvira spoke P’Li visibly flinched, her face growing hard and distant.

“Anyone who resisted was killed, horribly. He’d break their arms and legs and then leave them in the sun to die. The Earth Kingdom did nothing, as he always made a point to make sure the Queen’s tax collectors went unmolested. We had the resources to stop him, but Su refused to get involved. ‘Doling out vigilante justice,’ I think she called it. I said she was a coward, and she called me naïve. She told me that if we stopped him another just as bad would spring up in his place, and that our responsibility was to Zaofu. I never forgave myself for listening to her.”

“I’ll be the first to fault Suyin Beifong for her ostrich-horse tendencies, but why come to us?” Ghazan crossed his arms and shared a glance with Zaheer.

“I know what you did in Lanxi.”

Ghazan raised his eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“I was only ten or so, but I still remember reading about the beatings and the cages under the river. The governor needed to go. You waited until the right moment, when the popular movement against him was large and organized enough to fill the power vacuum he’d leave behind, and then gave him and a dozen of his closest supporters a taste of their own methods.”

A slight smirk crossed Ming-Hua’s lips. “I don’t seem to recall that city, but the… group that disposed of the governor, you have no problem with their tactics?”

It was Kuvira’s turn to smile. “No, I don’t. You’re not here to liberate the people, you’re here to tip the scales so that they can liberate themselves. You don’t presume to know better than them, or assume you should lead them, you just take a few of the bigger obstacles out of their way when the time is right. That’s a strategy I can approve of.”

Ming-Hua gave her a small nod, as did Ghazan.

P’Li seemed to snap out of some kind of trance and turned to face her. “And violence?”

Kuvira replied calmly. “A tool—unpleasant, and never to be used in excess or for its own sake, but necessary.”

P’Li nodded.

Ghazan seemed to agree. “I’m satisfied.”

“She’ll do.” Ming-Hua gave her the barest hint of a smile.

Zaheer placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Welcome to the Red Lotus, Kuvira.”

Chapter Text

She woke with the sun, rubbing sleep from her eyes to pore over the schematics one final time, looking for anything she might have missed. Under normal circumstances she’d never let the plans for something like this out of her sight until she had built and then thoroughly tested a complete prototype. As it was, she’d managed only a single rushed test with the prototype only partially assembled. That would have to be enough, given how insistent her father had been about the urgency of this project. So insistent, in fact, that she’d had to drop two separate meetings with her design teams and stall the satophone project she was supposed to present to the board that week, working day and night just to get it done.

She couldn’t really blame him, after all the gloves had been her idea originally. As soon as their movement grew large enough to attract notice, they had found themselves under attack and hopelessly outmatched. They had set up self-defense courses and found people willing to train them in qì blocking, but it required an immense amount of time to master even under ideal circumstances. As time wore on, Asami began to notice a pattern. Well-trained benders were practically untouchable in midrange combat, but only in midrange combat. Success against them meant dodging their attacks and closing the gap before they could react. Actually disabling them however almost always required qì blocking, and they had far too few trained fighters to make a difference. Her glove though, that equalized the playing field. All one needed to do was put it on, set the dial, and squeeze. The Mark 1 had been clunky and somewhat unreliable, but it had still succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. As a result, the expectations for its replacement were enormous, and Asami hoped she, it would live up to them.

Realizing that she had been holding in her breath, Asami let out a tired sigh. This was as close to finished as she could get for now. She rolled up the plans and dressed, doing her makeup with an undercurrent of anxious precision. The meeting was only three doors down the hall on a weekend morning, but Hiroshi had always been particular about professionalism when it came to these things. She stepped out into the hall, wincing as she saw who was leaving her father’s study.

Amon emerged, flanked by Liu Ten (his facial hair deeply unfortunate as always) and several others she didn’t recognize. Noticing Asami, he greeted her with a nod.

“Good morning, Miss Sato.”

“Amon,” she responded with a forced smile, biting back bile.

She made to move past him into her father’s study, but he reached out to stop her, his hand brushing down the side of her arm.

“I trust the modifications are ready?”

“Of course.” She replied with a curt nod.

Amon gazed at her through the mask. “Your father’s mind and your mother’s beauty, quite a package.”

The tone of his voice was almost teasing, Asami wanted to be sick. He lingered for another agonizing moment before walking off, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of a parting glance. She ducked into her father’s study, the uncomfortable prickling feeling still present.

“Hi, dad.”

“Morning, dear. Join me for tea?”

If Hiroshi noticed Asami’s unease he gave no indication, his smile for her was as genuine and jovial as always. He stepped out from behind his desk to pull her into an embrace, and then beckoned her to the armchairs at the window. As if on cue, a servant entered with a tray and transferred a teapot and trivet along with two cups to the small table between them. Hiroshi paid her no notice, idly browsing the day’s paper.

Asami closed her eyes and let out a quiet hum, smiling as she took in the bright, grassy smell wafting from pot. She poured herself a glass, and felt a tiny bit of the tension in her neck release. Hiroshi looked up and smiled over his glasses. “Garsai Shincha, I thought you might like it.”

She nodded in thanks.

“Anything interesting?” She asked, glancing over at the paper.

“Bad news, as always. Tarrlok pushed his nonbender identification decree through the Council, as well as one to extend the curfew and increase penalties.”

Asami grimaced. “Votes against?”

“Only Tenzin.” He sighed. “But let’s talk about more encouraging things, shall we? Did you bring the plans?”

Asami couldn’t help but smile. Moving the tea aside, she collected the rolled plans from beside her seat and spread them flat across the small table.

“No drastic changes, but I did manage to strip a lot of the bulk out, this one should be a lot easier to conceal. And there’s no more dial, adding a feedback circuit to the voltage regulator means the glove should be able to calibrate the charge for different sized opponents automatically.”

Modest improvements or no, Hiroshi looked impressed. “Have you tested it?”

“Only on myself,” Asami replied sheepishly. It was Hiroshi’s turn to grimace.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

Asami felt her twinge of shame quickly harden into resolve. “It’s my invention, I’m going to be responsible for it.” She bit back.

Hiroshi frowned, but he knew better than to press the point. “In that case I see no reason not to send them out for production, I’m sure Amon will be pleased.”

All her bile from earlier returned with a vengeance. “I passed him in the hallway on the way here, you know,” she said sharply.

Her father’s shoulders tensed as he realized where this was going. “Asami—"

“He gives me the creeps, why are we working with him?”

It was an accusation as much as a question. Hiroshi crossed his arms, the gentleness gone from his voice. “We’re not having this discussion again. Amon has done more to advance the cause of nonbenders in six short months than we’ve been able to accomplish in a decade.”

Asami didn’t bother holding back her sneer, months of frustration pouring out. “But is it really our movement anymore? Because right now it seems like it’s just his.”

“Amon has fought harder than anyone for our cause, and with his gift we finally have something the benders fear.” His statement was full of resolve, and something about it gave Asami chills.

She sighed in exasperation. “Gift, power from the spirits, call it whatever you want dad. He’s a bender. I thought the whole point of this was to liberate ourselves, not to be led around by some bender with a grudge.”

Hiroshi flinched as if he’d been struck, chilly anger crossing his features. “I will not entertain such warped perspectives. And from now on I would appreciate it if you would restrict your opinions to the areas in which you have expertise.”

He held her gaze for several seconds before returning his eyes to the paper. Asami took it as her cue to leave, she could recognize when she’d lost.

“I should get going, I still have the Mark 3 satophone prototype to work on. We need to work out a few kinks before it’s presented to the board next week.”

He nodded without looking up and Asami excused herself, leaving her tea unfinished.

She was halfway to the workshop when she realized she was still fuming. How dare he? He’d play along and treat her as an equal, but only so long as she didn’t challenge him. As soon as she said something he disagreed with, she went right back to being his little girl who didn’t know what she was talking about.

Her anger dissipated as she undid the lock on the corrugated steel door and entered her workshop. It was little more than a large shed really, an incongruous industrial blot on the grounds of what was otherwise a pristine estate. Despite its humble appearance it was precious to her, the only place in the world where she ever felt truly at ease. Sitting down at the bench, she pushed the morning’s conversation from her mind and turned to the prototype waiting for her. The next few hours passed in blissful silence as she focused all of her attention on finding and removing that stubborn hiss of feedback in the satophone’s earpiece, her frustrations fading into the background.

She was halfway through reassembling the receiver when she was startled by a sharp knock on the steel door, a footman waited outside.

“Please pardon my intrusion, Miss Sato. There is a young woman at the gates to see you, were you expecting company?”

She looked at him in confusion for a moment. Then she remembered, Rava!

The immediate jolt of excitement was followed by mild panic. It had been three weeks since their dinner and she’d begun to lose hope that Rava would ever come, she now found herself thoroughly unprepared and underdressed. She took a deep breath and turned back to the footman.

“Thanks, Guo. If you could have her wait for me in the parlor, I’ll be right up.”

Suddenly full of nervous energy, she scrambled to unplug her test bench and then headed for the door. Catching herself, she took one last glance around and tried to spot anything amiss. It’s fine, she told herself. She was certain that she’d cleared out anything potentially incriminating after finishing work on the glove last night, all of it was now securely locked away in the compartment behind the tool cabinet. She knew that she should probably do another sweep just to be sure, but she still needed to swing by her room to clean up and she didn’t want to keep Rava waiting any longer than she had to.

She burst back into the house and up the back stairs to her room, startling one of the maids. She dressed hurriedly, throwing on her usual black and maroon jacket over jodhpurs and her motorcycle boots. She briefly wondered if she should make more of a refined effort, but Rava didn’t seem like the sort of person who really bothered with appearances. Besides, she was determined to give her that ride she’d promised her.

She walked down the stairs to find Rava standing in the front hall grinning sheepishly, one hand raking back through messy brown hair.

She realized that this was the first time she’d gotten a good look at Rava in daylight. She’d cropped her hair since the last time they’d met, it was short and haphazard in a way that made her almost certain she’d done it herself. Even by Asami’s standards Rava was incredibly fit, all well-defined muscle under warm skin. Light from the entryway glanced off numerous small scars all across her body, the majority old and well-healed but several clearly more recent. One mark in particular stretched along the outside of her forearm, the area around it still livid. Tattoos patterned after Water Tribe armbands ringed both her biceps, she wondered how she might persuade Rava to share the story behind them. Her clothes were nothing if not utilitarian, a mess of clashing Earth Kingdom greens that reminded her of spring moss. Asami privately thought that blue had suited her much better. A fitted sleeveless tunic took the place of the jacket she’d been wearing when they met, fastened at her waist with a simple cloth sash over dark trousers.

“Rava! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”

She shuffled back and forth a bit, not willing to meet Asami’s eyes. “Yeah… about that. I’m really sorry, the last few weeks have been kind of a blur and I haven’t really had any time for myself until now.”

And she chose to come here and see you said a small voice in the back of her head.

“I hope it’s alright, just showing up like this.” Rava looked guilty and almost ready to leave, something Asami realized she very much didn’t want.

“It’s no trouble at all! I’m just happy to see you again.” She gave her a reassuring smile and Rava’s face lit up in response, twisting her into knots.

“And besides, I still owe you that lap around the tracks.” She added with a wicked grin.

Rava looked elated. “Sounds amazing.”

“Well then, let’s go!”

Asami led her out the front door and down a gravel driveway to the track which took up most of the flat plane below the far side of the house. Reaching the roadway, she turned back to face Rava.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

She returned with her satocycle, one of the racing prototypes she’d been working on featuring a curved aluminum cowl. She hoped the added weight would be offset by a decrease in drag, but she’d yet to thoroughly test the idea. Unclipping the spare helmet from the seat behind her, she offered it to Rava.

“Well don’t just stand there, get on!”

Practically vibrating with excitement Rava straddled the seat behind her, thighs pressing into the backs of her legs. She gingerly wrapped her arms around Asami’s waist, causing a jolt which shot all the way up her spine. Asami suddenly became very thankful for her helmet and for Rava’s position behind her, unable to see her face.

“You’re going to have to hold on tighter than that!”

She didn’t know why she said it, but she almost instantly regretted it as the force of Rava’s chest pressing into her back and the powerful arms constricting around her waist made her mouth run dry and heart beat furiously.

“You ready?” She managed, barely.

Rava got out half of a “yes” before Asami twisted back on the throttle and kicked off, sending them tearing down along the track.

In that moment Asami lost herself completely. She was here and she was flying, the wind rose around their little bubble to a deafening roar. The sudden rush of acceleration made her stomach leap, while the hum of the engine drove vibrations deep into her thighs and up her spine. She leaned into the turn and felt the increased force in her bones.

And there was Rava behind her, laughing and holding on for dear life, both of their hearts pounding. Arms tightened again around her waist, she could feel Rava’s muscles tensing through her jacket at each turn.

The overwhelming sensation of motion, the giddy rush of adrenaline, Rava clinging to her… Asami loved all of it. She made several more laps before finally sliding the satocycle to a stop.

“That was… that was incredible!” Taking off her helmet, Korra jumped up and wrapped her in a crushing hug, laughing. Asami suddenly found herself without the ability for coherent thought.

Asami seemed to float in a daze. She was just flushed with endorphins from the ride, she told herself. With effort, she managed to pull herself together well enough to return the satocycle and helmets to the garage and offer Rava food. They sat together at a small table on the deck perched over the rear of the house.

Rava was still flushed and happy from the track—she insisted on recounting each and every lap in detail, something Asami found equal parts annoying and endearing.

Food was brought out and they chatted idly about Asami’s plans for new satocycle designs and her time spent racing. Rava was in an impossibly good mood and Asami found it infectious. It wasn’t to last, as partway through the meal the talk inevitably turned to politics.

“Tarrlok is completely power-mad. Every day there’s some new sadistic edict from his office, someone’s got to stop him.” Something about the topic was clearly personal to Rava, she’d never seen her this impassioned.

Feeling somewhat reckless, Asami decided to press her luck. “What about the Equalists? At least they’re actually fighting back.”

Rava looked uncertain. “Forcefully ending the oppression of nonbenders is something I can get behind, but stripping individual benders of their bending?” She shuddered. “That’s something else, something like spiritual mutilation.”

Asami recoiled at the phrase. Those words, spiritual mutilation… she wanted to dismiss them as an exaggeration, unwilling to admit to herself the sickening truth she saw behind them. She opened her mouth to reply but the words died at the back of her throat.

“And you would know?” She managed, weakly.

Rava shrugged. “There are benders in my family, I know what it means to them.”

Asami felt herself tense. “And you’re okay with the way they treat nonbenders?” She asked, perhaps more sharply than intended.

She expected defensiveness, but Rava seemed almost relieved, letting out a small laugh. “I know it might seem unlikely, but they agree with the Equalists as much as I do. Benders aren’t a monolith, some of them see the problem and want to fix it.”

“So why don’t they?” The cavalier way Rava was speaking about all of this set Asami on edge.

Rava gave a sad shrug. “They try, but they’re definitely in the minority. It doesn’t help that those most likely to sympathize with nonbenders are often disadvantaged in other ways. What’s a tea picker to a Councilman?”

Asami wanted to bristle and fight back, but she found it hard to disagree with anything Rava had just said. “I can see your point.”

“And I guess I still don’t see bending as the real problem. Bending’s an advantage, and in many circumstances a big one, but so is being exceptionally smart or beautiful. None of those things mean anything without a society to say that they’re worth something, and that having them justifies special treatment at the expense of people who don’t have them.”

Asami scoffed. “So then what do you suggest we do, get rid of society?”

“Maybe the current one, at least.” Something made her think that perhaps Rava wasn’t entirely joking.

Rava’s tone turned conciliatory, as if sensing Asami’s unease. “Look, I think the Equalists are fighting for the right thing, I just wish their perspective were a bit less narrow. Think bigger, you know? And I don’t like the guy they have in charge.”

“Amon.” Given how this conversation had gone so far, Asami was very curious to hear what Rava would say next.

“Yeah. It’s like he’s turning them into his own personal cult. Besides, the whole thing doesn’t sit right with me, the Equalists suddenly get a leader with special powers and now the benders start taking them seriously. They shouldn’t need some mysterious masked bender leading them to get somewhere.”

Asami couldn’t help but be exasperated by her idealistic friend. “They shouldn’t, but right now they do. As long as it gets nonbenders out from under the bootheel, who cares? It’s like Amon said on the radio, the Avatar is gone and somebody has to restore balance.”

Rava tensed up immediately, something almost like fear passing behind her eyes. Asami wondered what it was she’d said.

Whatever it had been it was gone a second later, replaced by something almost brittle. “People don’t need Amon or the Avatar to liberate them, they can liberate themselves.”

Before Asami could spend any more time trying to determine what it was she’d just seen, Liu Fei interrupted and offered them more tea. Asami politely declined, but Rava accepted gladly and struck up a small chat with the girl.

It suddenly occurred to Asami that despite having come from what she assumed was a very poor background, Rava had never once seemed put off by or even surprised at the life she led, the house she lived in, or the servants that bustled back and forth.

“You’re giving me a funny look, what is it?” Rava gave her a curious look.

“I don’t know, I guess I was sort of worried that you’d be intimidated by all of this.”

Rava’s expression turned hard, startling her. “Asami, look. Your wealth doesn’t frighten me. If anything, it makes me a bit angry.”

Asami flinched involuntarily. “Angry?”

“I mean, have you actually seen what it’s like down in Republic City? People are living in drainage tunnels, eating out of dumpsters, stealing pocket money just to get by. How can you think it’s right to have all of this when that’s happening?” There was an incredulousness in Rava’s voice that set Asami on edge.

“My father came from nothing! He built all of this himself, how can you say he doesn’t deserve it?” Asami snapped.

“Because nobody does.” Rava answered quietly. She sighed. “Look, the way I see it, it’s like this. Even if your dad built his company from nothing, that still doesn’t make the way it operates right. There’s this fantastic wealth, but that all goes to him, not the people in his factories actually creating it. Yeah sure they get paid, but compensation is not the same thing as control. They make the company run, but your dad tells them when to work, what they should do, and how much they deserve for the work they do. He controls it, not them.” Rava was calm, almost patient, and it was more than a little infuriating.

“The market—” Asami began, indignant.

“Is just the aggregate of that exploitation. Hiding behind a system that benefits you doesn’t justify it.” Rava cut her off.

Asami deflated, her defensiveness punctured by the memory of a familiar argument with her father. “Yeah, I’ve actually heard a lot of that before. There’s a group called the Kuro Hata which has been saying exactly the same thing. They’ve been trying to organize the workers in some of my dad’s factories, the way he’s responded has been a bit disproportionate.”

Rava raised an eyebrow and Asami had to fight back annoyance.

“Okay, extremely disproportionate. But it’s not something he listens to me about. Believe me, I tried.” The words came out bitter, making Asami consider who she was actually frustrated with.

Rava looked surprised. “Still, you said something. That’s honestly more than I expected from someone slated to take over the company someday.”

Hearing it spoken out loud was like a wave of freezing water crashing over her, the topic never failed to smother whatever small bit of happiness she’d managed to find. Asami suddenly felt the fatigue that had been gnawing at her for weeks return with a vengeance.

“It’s not something I really have a choice in.”

“Why not?” Rava was almost indignant. Her look cut through Asami like a pang of regret.

She bristled. “Look, I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but I have responsibilities I can just shirk out of. My dad has expectations of me, everyone around me does. I’m supposed to lead the company someday, or failing that at least find a husband who can do it for me.”

“Somehow I can’t see that last bit happening.” Rava’s amused look of skepticism provoked a sardonic laugh.

“You know, it’s funny. I don’t actually like business much, or at all. The work is exhausting and tedious and the politicking is just repulsive. I don’t want the responsibility of running things. I’m an engineer. I design things, I build things. The only time I’m ever truly happy is in the workshop, or when I’m planning out something new. But my dad has a hundred talented designers and he can always find or train more, he only has one daughter.”

Rava wasn’t satisfied, if anything she seemed vicariously offended. “And that justifies turning his daughter, a once-in-a-century technical genius, into a business mogul?”

Asami’s composure slipped and she stuttered in response. ’Once-in-a-century technical genius’… did she really just call me that? She realized from the look on Rava’s face that she must also be blushing furiously. Just great Sato, so much for cool composure.

She felt desperate to change the topic to something, anything other than this.

“The tea’s been cold a while, why don’t we go do something.” She said, a little too quickly. Rava looked surprised at her abruptness.

“Um, sure, what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, perhaps we could spar?” She said, silently cursing herself for saying the first thing that came to mind.

Rava just looked hesitant, it occurred to her that perhaps her hunch about combat training had been wrong after all.

“Are you sure? I’m… I’ve had a lot of experience, and I wouldn’t want you to feel outmatched.”

Now that provoked a laugh. “Cocky, aren’t you? I’ve been in self-defense training since I was eight, I’m pretty sure I can take whatever you can throw my way.”

Rava gave her an enormous grin. “You’re on, then.”

Asami quickly ducked back inside to change and then led Rava back out behind the house to the patch of hard-packed earth next to her workshop. It wasn’t ideal, but at least her dad wouldn’t immediately think to come looking for them here.

“Ready whenever you are.”

Rava had shucked off her tunic and boots, leaving her in just a sweat-stained undershirt and trousers. Asami had to remind herself to focus.

They took up positions opposite each other in the dirt. But before Asami even had time to consider a move Rava darted forward, swinging a kick at her flank from the left. Asami ducked it and slid sideways underneath her, aiming to knock her off balance. Rava was too fast for that however and had already pulled up and away, swinging down to catch her exposed side. She twisted at the last second, barely dodging the blow. Springing back, she managed to regain a defensive stance and prepared her own attack. She feinted to the left before propelling herself up and over with a flying kick, trying to catch Rava in the side of the head. To her surprise Rava anticipated her, closing the distance she caught her leg and spun her to the ground, pinning her.

Asami felt her heady rush from the morning return. Fighting Rava was electrifying. She was all barely restrained power, immense force compensating for her lack of grace. Her style was unlike anything Asami had ever seen, an eclectic mix of bending stances, qì blocker forms, and traditional Fire Nation martial arts. It made Asami wonder even more about who her sparring partner actually was—what kind of life had she led where she learned all of this? After her third straight loss, Asami was forced to admit that Rava was considerably better than her. While her speed and agility gave her a considerable advantage, Rava was still much stronger and had an almost preternatural ability to anticipate her moves. It was almost like she could sense where she was without seeing her.

They both collapsed to the dirt, panting. Asami couldn’t help but steal a glance at Rava, glistening with sweat and coated in a fine layer of dust. She was beaming.

“Not bad, heiress.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.” She smiled back, feeling pleasantly exhausted and completely at ease.

Rava propped herself up and turned back towards the house, causing Asami to yelp in concern when she saw the deep cut on her right shoulder blade. “Rava! Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

She scratched the back of her head, looking self-conscious. “Ah, it’s nothing, really… I must’ve sliced myself on a pebble in the dirt or something. Trust me, this isn’t even a rough day for me.” She gave her a crooked, almost bashful smile in apology.

“Still, we at least need to clean the dirt out. Come over here, I have a first aid kit in my workshop.”

She led Rava inside and sat her down on the stool in front of her workbench while she rummaged on the shelves looking for the kit. Finding it, she turned back to Rava to see her face lit up in wonderment.

“Asami, this place is amazing.” Rava caught her eyes and gave her a lopsided grin, and it took all of her self-restraint not to throw herself at her that very second.

“It’s a mess.” Asami shuffled past Korra with an embarrassed smile, trying to focus on the cut and not the woman it was attached to.

Just as she was applying small strips of tape to hold the wound closed, a sharp knock came from behind her and the door opened.

“Darling! You didn’t tell me you had a guest.” Hiroshi’s exterior was friendly, but she could see the wariness hiding underneath.

“Dad, this is Rava, the girl I um… accidentally ran over a few weeks ago. Rava, this is my father, Hiroshi.”

Hiroshi laughed. “Getting beaten up by my daughter again, are we?”

“She’s very good at it. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sato.”

Hiroshi smiled indulgently and took her hand.

“Asami, a word if I may?” Hiroshi’s eyes left no room for argument.

“I’ll be right back.” She looked at Rava apologetically, who gave her an understanding smile.

Once they were outside the workshop, Hiroshi dropped his easygoing air. “What were you thinking, taking her in there?” He asked, his voice low.

Asami felt herself getting defensive, something that was becoming more and more frequent in conversations with her father. “Do you think I’m a complete idiot, dad? I cleaned up last night, as always. Beifong herself could toss the place and find nothing.”

“Fine. Unfortunately right now we have more pressing matters than your… guest. Our mutual friend has kindly provided us with feedback on the latest design and was hoping you might have time make a few additional modifications.”

Asami really didn’t want to know what sort of testing had produced this “feedback.” Dread at having to complete yet another project mingled with annoyance at her father for bringing an abrupt end to what had been an almost perfect afternoon.

“Fine, I’ll see Rava out and then take care of it.”

“See that you do.” Hiroshi smiled and walked off, Asami returned to the workshop feeling deflated.

“Everything okay?” Rava looked slightly nervous.

“Yeah, just a project my dad needs me to take care of.” Asami gave her a sad smile, stretching every second until she had to ask Rava to leave.

Rava seemed to pick up on the tension and spared her the discomfort. “It’s okay, I should probably be getting home anyway.” Rava’s deflated look just compounded Asami’s regret. “Thanks for everything, I had a really nice time today.”

“So did I.”

Asami swallowed hard. “So, can I see you again?”

“Um, yeah. I’d like that.” Rava looked conflicted for a moment, or perhaps just pensive. “Maybe we could get lunch next week? There’s this great noodle place in Little Water Tribe, might be a bit dive-y for your tastes though.”

Relief washed over her. “No, that sounds perfect.” She smiled.

She walked Rava out, trying to hide her disappointment at their time being cut short. She offered to call a car, but Rava waved her off, saying something about not being a hassle and liking the walk anyway.

Rava tipped her off-balance with a massive hug before waving goodbye, walking off down the gravel drive with a certain lightness in her step. Asami’s gaze lingered on the shrinking figure longer than she wanted to admit.

Chapter Text

It was early morning, and the house and fields were still swathed in shadow. She could see the sun’s rays just beginning to warm the valley far below. Soon Kuvira would rise and travel down to the city to fetch Tsomo, and sometime after that the others would wake. Until then it was just her and the chilly tranquility of the mountain air. She moved through her stances, feeling the qì flow downwards and then outwards through her core, rebalancing. She lost herself in the motions and in her breathing, paying no heed to her surroundings. A twig snapping off one of the tea bushes made her start. She turned to see Nazra standing at the edge of the field, wringing her hands and refusing to make eye contact.

“Hi, mom. Can we talk?”

P’Li nodded and gestured for her to sit. Nazra’s shoulders were tense, she picked nervously at her lip. They were both showing the strain from their fight following the Revelation, weeks had gone by and still neither had brought it up.

“Well?”

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.” Nazra sighed. “I was angry and frustrated, and the things I said were just to hurt you.”

P’Li gave her a small smile. “I was wrong as well. It’s easy for me to forget just how much you’ve grown. Sometimes when I look at you, I still only see that happy little girl chasing around gilacorns in the desert.”

“I want to explain to you why I was so upset, I feel I owe you that.” Nazra met her eyes and nodded, and P’Li began.

“When you were four, just after your ājñā activated for the first time, your father and I had the worst fight in all our time together. It was over you, but it was about me.”

Nazra frowned. “I don’t understand.”

P’Li inhaled deeply, centering her breath in her chest before continuing. “My ājñā was opened early and against my will. It took me many, many years to make peace with it, and if it hadn’t been for your father and Zhi supporting me and guiding me I doubt I would have ever succeeded. When you combustionbent, I saw that pain all over again in you, and wanted to do whatever was necessary to stop it.”

“If caught early enough, an overdeveloped ājñā can be reduced back to standard levels. When we discovered that you shared my gift, I was adamant that you be allowed to have a ‘normal’ life, I feared what would happen if you grew up to be like me.”

“I agonized over what to do for weeks. I was terrified that if we allowed your ājñā to develop, people would rip you from us, hurt you and force you to use it against your will, just as they forced me and tried to force my mother and sister before me. In that moment, I was a fourteen-year-old girl in chains again, all I could see was pain and horror. But there was another current, one equally as strong. I’d survived, and in time I’d made peace with my gift. I was able to do so because I met people who cared for me and thought I could be more than just a killing machine. I was torn between not wanting to see you suffer as I had suffered and wanting you to never have any reason to feel shame for who and what you are.”

“Your father didn’t understand at first.” She chuckled. “You know how single-minded he can be, he saw only his ideals. He couldn’t understand the pain or my dread for what it would mean for you. But he was patient. He listened. He reminded me how suppressing your ājñā would be stealing from you as much as it would be relieving you of a burden. We decided together to help you develop your ājñā safely and at your own pace. We swore to always protect you, and to train you to protect yourself even if we were gone.” P’Li’s breath caught.

“The day you received your tattoo, I was so scared for you, but I have also never felt such pride.”

Nazra looked overwhelmed and on the brink of tears. P’Li pulled her closer and held her, never wanting to let go. When they finally pulled apart, P’Li looked at her again and felt a surge of affection.

She had grown so much in these past two years, only a thumbs’ width shorter than her now. There was so much of both of them in her—her height and narrow frame, skin slightly warmer than her own; his nose and brow along with coarse black hair and expressive eyebrows, set over sharp eyes her same shade of scarlet. Seeing her there smiling back up at her made everything right with the world.

“I have something for you, my little ember.”

P’Li reached down into her bag and pulled out a small emaki, well-worn from years of travel. Undoing the frayed silk cord around it, she opened the scroll in front of them. Minuscule writing in a sharp, elliptical script only three people could still read surrounded a faded kouroku painting of a two-petaled lotus, an inverted triangle at its center.

Nazra’s eyes went wide. “Mom, this is one of Master Zhi’s scrolls, I can’t.”

“Are you refusing my gift?” P’Li turned up the corner of her lip and raised her eyebrow. Nazra shook her head and smiled. “Good.”

P’Li lifted the old scroll and rolled it, wrapping it in its cord before gently handing it to Nazra.

“I don’t want you to ever think I’m ashamed of you. You are the light of my life, the best thing that I have ever helped create.” P’Li sighed, pulling her closer. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything ever happened to you.” Her tears finally started to fall.

Nazra rested her chin on P’Li’s shoulder, her own face wet. “It’s okay, mom. Please don’t cry.”

They remained there in comfortable silence for a long while, watching the sun creep up the mountain together. Soon enough they could hear shattering earth and the sound of cursing in the distance.

“Looks like Korra’s having another fun morning.” Nazra smiled, her eyes drawn down to the house. Following her gaze, P’Li turned to her.

“So, the airbender?” She asked with a mischievous smirk.

“Mom!” Nazra looked mortified. “How did you—”

“You look at her the way I looked at Zaheer when I was your age.” Nazra seemingly knew better than to deny it. “Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

Nazra looked crestfallen. “I don’t know, probably not. She’s so brash and vivacious and bold, and I’m… not.”

“It’s a façade, she’s as nervous as you are.”

“Yeah, but what could she possibly want with me? Korra and Kuvira, they’re beautiful and powerful like her. I’m just this third-eyed freak, an ugly awkward mess of limbs.” Nazra looked like she was about to cry.

P’Li stared straight into her eyes and gripped her by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever call yourself that.”

“You are anything but ugly my love, you will stand tall and be proud of what you are. And besides,” P’Li gave her a wry smile. “She doesn’t pause to sense the currents every time they walk past.”

“I’ve had it!” Korra crashed down next to her in exasperation, sending little particles of dirt flying all over the mat in their shared room. Nazra hardly looked up from her scroll, Korra’s venting had become something of an afternoon routine.

“I never thought I’d miss your dad’s interminable meditation sessions and awful poetry, but this is somehow even worse! Look at these welts, look at them!” Korra lifted her tunic and gestured at her ribs emphatically. Nazra made an effort to look concerned.

“I’m sick of this, I’m getting nowhere.” She huffed.

Nazra sighed, knowing there was no getting through to her when she was this frustrated. “That’s not true, you’re getting really good at the whole sensing thing! Maybe the bending part just takes time, I’m sure with practice—"

Korra cut her off, gesticulating wildly. “Ohhh, more practice, just what I need! Sitting around waiting for that bald bat to come up with yet another clever way to beat me up.” Korra let out a groan. “Did you see her today? Spinning around like that, flipping over me, the way she was grinning when she knocked me flat on my face in the dirt, again...”

Korra’s words seem to fade into the background. “Naz… Naz, are you even listening to me?”

“Oh, what? Sorry.” She snapped back to attention, her face hot.

“What’s up with you today, you’re even more distracted than usual.” She suddenly felt very self-conscious as Korra looked her over inquisitively.

“Wait, no.”

Korra was staring at her in disbelief. “You’re falling for her!” Her face lit up in manic glee.

“I’m—I’m not—she’s—niceokay!” Nazra sputtered, turning crimson. First her mom and now Korra, what did she do to deserve this?

Korra burst out laughing. “You totally are!”

“Am not!” Her denial was futile, and she knew it.

“Right, look. Naz, if you were any redder your tattoo would vanish. And besides, I guess she’s not bad looking… if you have a thing for mad monks set on tormenting your sister.” Korra pursed her eyebrows, a mocking hand on her chin.

“It’s not—she just—the way she moves, when she does that thing where she twists with her back, and—” Nazra stuttered, realizing she was only adding fuel to the flame.

“That breezy blue sadist has been beating my ass to a pulp every day for three weeks and enjoying every minute of it, and you're sitting there mooning over her!” Korra tried to hide her grin and look indignant.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, a certain lavabender appeared in the doorway wearing a smirk. “Well well, looks like Korra’s pain is Nazra’s gain.”

“Fuck off, Ghazan.” Nazra said his name like a curse, shooting daggers at him from her place on the mat.

“Someone wants to make the Beifong her Baefong.” Ghazan’s grin was even bigger than Korra’s. She desperately wished she were somewhere else, anywhere else.

“I hate you, I hate you both so much.”

It was Korra this time. “Oh come on! You’re gonna need our help if you wanna woo the blue tattoo.” Naz groaned. She wanted to curl up in a hole and die. Anything to make this end.

“What did I do to deserve this…” she muttered. But then it came to her, the thought of revenge…

“And you’re one to tease. Where were you yesterday, again?” She asked Korra pointedly.

“Um, doingreconnaissancework.” Korra muttered in a single breath, turning a bit red herself.

“Hah, that! Kuv’s still whinging about it.” Ghazan added, helpfully. “What were her words again… ah, ‘I’m not her spirits-damned hookup chauffeur,’ I think.” Naz was still deeply peeved at him, but at least Ghazan could always be relied upon to switch sides for the sake of chaos.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear! Nothing happened, we just took her satocycle out and sparred a bit.” Korra attempted to look innocent.

Ghazan broke out a shit-eating grin. “Oh, I’m sure it was a nice ride!”

They both started guffawing, and it was Korra’s turn to become crimson.

She followed the sounds of splintering wood. As she got closer, she could pick up the intense tang of ozone, sweat and anger mingling with the smell of pine and fresh-flowing sap. They were deep in the woods near a small brook surrounded by mossy boulders, far enough from the house that she could no longer hear the sounds of conversation or sense the activity inside. Kuvira was in a fighting stance, the currents of air around her agitated as strips of metal shot to and fro. Her entire body was tense, feet shifting and arms rigid in combat posture, her long coarse braid of hair swinging behind her.

Thwack… thwack… thwack…

“You know, there are much more efficient ways to gather firewood.”

Kuvira ignored her, sending another steel projectile flying into the tree. “Fuck off breezehead, I’m not in the mood.”

With a quick burst of air, Tsomo set herself atop one of the larger rocks a short distance away. She reached out on the currents and took stock of their immediate surroundings. Kuvira’s armor lay discarded in a pile at the foot of a tree nearby, next to a crumpled sheet of paper with a broken seal in the shape of an octagon. “Let me guess, Beifong problems?”

“You could say that.”

“Good thing I’m an expert then.”

Kuvira gave her a mirthless laugh. “You know nothing about my life, stay out of it.”

Tsomo paused, contemplating the metalbender. “I know that if that piece of crumpled paper is what I think it is, Suyin’s even more of a fool than my mother, which is saying something.”

The splintering of wood stopped and Kuvira turned towards her. Her jaw was set and her back rigid. “Do you want to know what she wrote to me? ‘Kuvira, I’m not mad, just disappointed in your choices…’” That was a lie. If Suyin was anything like her mother, she was absolutely livid.

“Did you really expect anything less from her?”

Tsomo expected a piece of metal to come flying at her, but Kuvira just seemed to deflate, slumping gracelessly against the nearest boulder. “Not really, no. It’s the sanctimoniousness, as if I’m the disappointment…” Kuvira laughed bitterly. “I spent every waking second of my life trying to make her proud, and the second I do something she disagrees with she casts me off.”

“I wouldn’t have any idea what that’s like, of course.”

At least that got a genuine laugh. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. So how is the good chief?” She asked, clearly trying to get a rise out of her.

It worked, of course. “Like I would know. She’s gone by the time I get up and when I get home, she’s either still at work or downing her second bottle to drown it out.” Tsomo snapped.

“Like mother like daughter then.”

“Fuck you.”

“What are you even doing up here? It’s not like you give a shit.”

The question was sharp enough to make Tsomo flinch. “For the same reason you are, that letter’s not the only reason you’re turning that pine tree to kindling.”

“You know, for a belligerent asshole you’re surprisingly perceptive,” Kuvira bit back, halfheartedly flicking out another strip before recalling it. “It is all a bit much to take, isn’t it?” Her tone wasn’t hostile, if anything it was almost sympathetic.

“Thought so,” Tsomo laughed bitterly. “But yeah, there’s only so much of that happy little family I can stand before it starts to grate.”

Kuvira barked out a laugh. “Look at the two of us, up here seething with envy over a family made up of the Avatar, some airbender-obsessed nutcase, and two viragos with forehead artillery.”

Tsomo snorted. “Refusing to talk about your emotions and running away to wallow in your own misery, you really are a Beifong.”

They sat in silence, punctuated only by the occasional soft thwack of metal hitting wood. After a while Tsomo gave up on counting the splinters and turned again to Kuvira. “So why did you really join them? I know it wasn’t just for the sparkling conversation.”

She shrugged. “I needed something to do that didn’t make me want to throw myself off a ledge at the end of the day. They’ve got the right idea, even if they are a bunch of criminals and fuckups that make me want to rip out my hair most of the time.”

“Couldn’t relate.” Tsomo managed a smile in her direction.

“Speaking of unlikely alliances, when are you and the explosive broomstick going to get on with it?” Kuvira smirked.

Tsomo almost collapsed off the boulder. “What?”

Kuvira laughed, hard. “Just the picture of airbender grace, you are. Come on, it’s not like you’re being subtle about it.”

“Fuck you, I don’t—"

“So it’s pure coincidence that you’ve eaten lunch together every day for the past three weeks? Besides, it’s not like you have anything to worry about. She can hardly take her eyes off you.” Tsomo couldn’t tell if Kuvira was amused, disdainful, or both.

“Of course, because no one ever gawks at me.” She retorted.

“If they look like they’re going to pass out at the sight of you sweating in your bindings and a pair of trousers, then perhaps it’s just a little bit beyond gawking.” Kuvira’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Tsomo felt her face flush, the ozonated asshole was enjoying this.

“If I were you, I’d hurry up before you manage to piss off her sister so badly she unlocks the Avatar state and buries you so deep even the badgermoles won’t find you. What’s her deal, anyway?”

Tsomo let out an exaggerated groan, secretly thankful to be talking about something else. “It’s not like she doesn’t the ability, she can sense the currents just fine. It’s the active part that’s the problem, something’s blocking her root chakra. If I were to guess, I’d say she’s afraid of it.”

“That brash idiot, afraid of something?” Kuvira snorted. She couldn’t sense it, but Tsomo was certain that she was rolling her eyes at her.

“Oh please, you of all people should know a front when you see one. It’s not her abilities, it’s the responsibilities that come with them that scare her. Her whole world is going to change and she’s not ready for that.”

“Fantastic, an Avatar with fucking confidence issues.”

Korra sat on the veranda, kicking her feet and flinging small rocks across the ground. She felt the presence behind her and jumped, Zaheer was almost silent on his feet and it never failed to startle her.

“Your mind seems burdened, Korra. What is it?” He sat down beside her, looking out to the city lights in the distance.

Korra shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “Something Asami said keeps bothering me, about Amon on the radio, he was talking about how the Avatar is gone and somebody has to restore balance.”

“And you feel responsible?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” She shifted uncomfortably.

“What’s happening is not your doing. Amon would be saying such things regardless, he fashions himself a savior and he would still see himself as such even if the Avatar opposed him. You must remember that he is responsible for his misdeeds and petty delusions, not you.”

She sighed, feeling frustrated. “First Zaofu and now here, I’m sick of just waiting while the world falls apart. I should be out there, I could be helping but instead I’m stuck here being useless.”

“That’s not true. Right now you need to focus on your training, when you’re ready—”

“I am ready!” The force of her words startled Zaheer.

“Just because you want to be ready now doesn’t mean you are. I’ve been talking with Tsomo about your training, and she thinks it’s not a lack of ability holding you back, but an attachment you are unable to let go of.” His tone was calm and Korra bristled, but he continued.

“What are you afraid of, Korra?” The gentleness with which he asked it cut through her defensiveness.

Korra sighed. “I don’t know. I guess, I just see people like Tarrlok and Amon and the way they abuse their position and hurt people, what if I become like them?”

“You won’t. They are guided by nothing but their own desire for power and control. So long as you see others as equal to yourself and act accordingly, you will not become like them. And you have us, all of us, to guide you and remind you of that.”

“What if that’s not enough?” The fear sunk to the bottom of her stomach.

Zaheer set his hand beside hers. “It will be. I have faith in you, Korra.”

Dinner was a happy affair that night. To Nazra’s intense consternation, Ghazan had convinced Tsomo to join them, and nobody seemed the least bit bothered by her presence. Kuvira had halfheartedly objected on the grounds that it might raise suspicions with Lin, but Tsomo had replied that her mother resigned herself long ago to her returning at odd hours without advance notice. Nazra suspected that Kuvira just didn’t want to drive back late at night, she was oddly finicky about her sleep schedule.

The metalbender now sat across the room, deep in conversation Ming-Hua. They appeared to be comparing ice and metal as projectiles, the gleam in Ming-Hua’s eye made Nazra assume they’d all be seeing a demonstration sooner rather than later.

On her left, Zaheer leaned back from the table looking content, P’Li behind him with her arms around his shoulders. She rested her chin on the top of his head, nestling in the stubble. Nazra found herself idly wondering what it might be like to feel a certain other head tucked beneath her own.

Opposite them Korra and Ghazan were having a noodle slurping contest, as usual Korra was winning. A particularly wet slurp sent droplets of broth flying across the table and into Kuvira’s face, she gave them a good-natured scowl.

That just left the two of them sitting awkwardly next to each other. Occasionally Ghazan would lean over to say something crude, at one point Tsomo sent an ochoko flying into his lap for his trouble. She tried not to notice and stared into her noodles, idly stirring the broth and ignoring the sweatiness of her palms.

The voice from her side startled her. “You alright? Your heart is beating up an absolute racket.”

“Yeah, just nervous about practice tomorrow.” She replied, unconvincingly. Tsomo smiled, her face still turned away from her. Well, she thought, it’s now or never.

“So, um, want to take a walk with me?” She asked, trying not to stumble on the words. It came out perhaps a bit more feeble than she’d intended.

But Tsomo just turned to her and smiled. “I’d like that.”

They excused themselves and ducked out, Ghazan giving her a pointed wink that she refused to acknowledge.

“So, where do you want to go?” Tsomo’s voice was open. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it.

“There’s this place on the other side of the field up by the spring, I think you’ll like it.” She hoped she was right.

They crossed the rows of overgrown tea bushes, following the curve of the mountain until they came to the far side of the field. Nazra guided her a short way into the forest until they were at the foot of a very tall, very old oak. She made to climb into the lower branches and offered Tsomo her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, there’s this open spot near the top, but we have to climb—never mind, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, I should have thought…” Nazra very much hoped Tsomo couldn’t sense her blushing.

Tsomo just grinned. “Airbender, remember? Hold on.”

Before she could think, Tsomo had wrapped her arms around her from behind and lifted them both up into the canopy with a rush of air. Nazra screamed in shock, wide-eyed and wobbling a bit as Tsomo set them down on the bare branch near the top.

“C–could’ve warned me.”

“I got us here, didn’t I?” Tsomo laughed from deep in her chest, while Nazra attempted to focus on their surroundings and compose herself.

“Y–yeah, y–you did, t–thanks I guess.”

“You’re pretty cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” Nazra choked and wobbled a bit on the branch, and Tsomo put a gentle hand on her knee to steady her. She felt the jolt go all the way up her thigh and between her legs. If she hadn’t been blushing furiously before she certainly was now.

“So what’s so special about this place? Not that I mind being stuck up a tree with you.”

“Listen.” They both fell silent, and soon they could hear the faint noise of the city many lǐ distant. “The valley’s so narrow and straight that it amplifies the sounds and carries them all the way up here. Once you’re above the canopy, you can hear it all.”

Tsomo’s mouth opened slightly and turned upwards into a smile. “It’s incredible.”

“Can I ask you something?” Nazra hesitated, but knew if she didn’t ask now her nerves would be totally shot. “Are—are you afraid of me?” She held her breath, heart pounding.

Tsomo paused for what seemed like an eternity before responding. “I was I think at first, but I’m not now. Your ājñā, it puts out this steady energy, I feel it whenever I’m near you. But it’s a calm warmth, like water flowing around a smooth stone in a stream. It feels peaceful, not dangerous.”

The flood of relief was so intense it threatened to disrupt her balance and send her crashing off the branch again. “I’m really glad, I was worried you’d think I was some mindless killer because of, well—and I couldn’t stand—I don’t want you to think—”

Tsomo cut her off. “I know you’re not that. I knew it from the moment I first talked to you. Mindless is the last word I’d ever use to describe you, you’re as intensely spiritual as any airbender, just in a different way. It’s a kind of different I like, quite a lot actually.” Tsomo turned in Nazra’s direction and smiled gently, taking her hand. Gone was the brash, cackling posturing from the morning, it had been replaced by something gentle, even unassuming. There was a new softness under her angular features and wiry muscle that made Nazra feel entirely at ease.

“Can we stay up here a bit longer?”

“I’d like that.” Tsomo leaned into her shoulder, resting her head underneath hers. Nazra’s thoughts drifted back to dinner, and she smiled as she realized—she no longer had to wonder what it would feel like.

Chapter Text

Lin sighed, her eyes glazing over as she flipped aimlessly through yet another report. She had gone six weeks now without a single day off and it was showing. Bags hung under her eyes, her skin sallow and her hair unwashed. Maybe it was just the exhaustion talking, but right now she could only laugh at the sheer absurdity of this whole mess.

Even though they were still growing rapidly in number and in strength, the Equalists somehow represented the least of her worries at the moment. Amon was smart enough to focus his attention almost exclusively on triad leadership and their enforcers, as a result they had settled into an uneasy dance with the police. Amon and his Equalists would cut off the poisonous head, leaving her officers to clean up whatever was left behind. As much as it pained her to admit it, together they’d made more progress in wiping out the triads in the past six weeks than her department had in the past half-decade—the Terra Triad and Red Monsoons had been all but eliminated, while the Triple Threats were on their last legs. At least partly for that reason she’d avoided targeting the Equalists directly, Tarrlok was more than capable of taking care of them and her officers had more pressing problems.

Chief among them was the matter of the Kuro Hata. What had started as a largely ineffectual student movement had become something much bigger and better organized over the last six months. They seemed intent on creating their own parallel social safety net of services, running food distribution and clothing drives for the poorest families and the homeless. They’d even begun offering childcare services and medical care, all free of charge. But what really concerned Lin were the self-defense networks they had organized neighborhood by neighborhood, manned by benders and nonbenders alike.

Though even in their innocuous activities the group was anything but apolitical. Their agenda was chilling, they openly declared their desire to abolish the Council, disband the police, and empty the prisons back out onto the streets. Their demonstrations outside City Hall and police headquarters had frequently gotten heated, just last week a run-in between Kuro Hata members and a dozen of her officers had left three people in the hospital and two dozen more up on riot charges, their leader among them.

Somewhat incongruously for a political movement with roots in the Fire Nation, said leader was a lanky young sipiniq from the Southern Water Tribe named Tulugaq. She’d only met them once, in lockup after the protest. She arrived to find them resting back on one of the benches, seemingly unfazed despite being beaten and bloodied. They had been strangely friendly, even when they refused point-blank to talk about the movement or anyone involved with it. She remembered their sharp blue eyes gazing back into hers, the only outward indication that their laid-back demeanor masked a keen political mind backed by almost inhuman focus and determination. Lin knew that at some point they were bound to pose a serious threat to law and order, but she could hardly spare the manpower necessary to bring them to heel.

For one thing, her white-collar division was currently swamped; a number of import/export joints out of Omashu had been caught fixing flour prices, exacerbating the existing food shortages and creating the perfect conditions for a riot. And then there were the labor unions growing more powerful and militant by the day—Lin’s officers had been called in more than once to quell unrest in Future Industries factories. She privately thought they wouldn’t be nearly so much of a problem if Sato weren’t such a stingy bastard. In any case, it was just one more problem for a force already stretched to the breaking point.

And perhaps most strangely, there had been a series of disappearances over the past two weeks, nearly two dozen teenage girls all from the Water Tribes. None had been heard from since, there had been no ransom demands and no bodies. Whoever was doing it was careful—only one of the abductions had been witnessed, by a shopkeeper who happened to be closing up across the street. She reported seeing the girl being snatched right into the back of a truck as she went to cross the street, two black-clad men with covered faces grabbing her and muffling her screams before they sped off. There had been no leads and no concrete sightings since.

And if all of that wasn’t enough, there was still the elephant koi in the room—Tarrlok and the band of blue-shirted thugs he called a Task Force. He’d been getting ever more brazen, and their numbers had swelled from a dozen benders to over two hundred now, nearly a third the size of her own force. Every day brought some new report of an Equalist hiding place being smashed, nonbenders taken in the dead of night for supposed Equalist ties, fights with black-clad figures in abandoned alleys. The Council even had its own detention facility now, she never heard nor saw the people he locked away there. Relations between them had gotten increasingly strained—Tarrlok accused the police force of complacency, while Lin retorted that he was creating a Republic City Dai Li.

The event they were calling the “Revelation” escalated everything dramatically. Tarrlok had used it as his casus belli, in the three weeks following he’d pushed through dozens of Council motions cracking down on nonbenders and giving his task force the authority to act with near total impunity. Publicly, Tarrlok pinned the fight and the resultant casualties and property damage on the Equalists, but Lin had her doubts. She’d been to the scene in the immediate aftermath, the burning wreckage and vast scars in the earth could only have been the result of a battle between benders. But what had actually happened, and why was Tarrlok trying to cover it up?

Not that there were many people left to ask—mangled bodies had lain scattered in the street, her count had seventeen dead and another twelve badly wounded. Mako and Bolin had been among them, both barely survived. Lin was equal parts furious at Mako and worried for him. Every time she visited, there had been at least two members of the task force in the room “for his security.” Mako would glance at them and then feed her some feeble story about being attacked by Equalists and saved by the Task Force just in time, even though the ruse was so transparent it was almost pathetic. Today would be different, however. It was his first day back on the job, and she could finally get a word with him in private.

She didn’t have to wait long, a quarter hour later there was a hesitant knock on her office door.

“Come in, Mako. And shut the door.”

She didn’t bother to smile. Mako looked horrendous, a brace wrapped around his left leg and his shoulder still in a sling. His eyes were sunken and his face gaunt, he had almost none of his usual fiery disposition.

“How’s the shoulder?”

“Better, Kallik says I should have full mobility back with a few more sessions.” Mako winced as he slid into the chair opposite her desk.

“You’re got lucky kid, a few more minutes out there and you would’ve been catgator chow.”

Mako could only nod. “I owe you one, Chief. Bolin and I both do.”

Lin suppressed a shudder. She and her officers had found them both half-dead in an earth cocoon at the corner of the nearly demolished warehouse. Mako was somehow still breathing despite a fractured clavicle, two broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a leg that had been partially crushed under the falling debris. Healing him had taken weeks, his brother had been even worse—the pro-bender had been unconscious, courtesy of a nasty skull fracture and a severe concussion. In the fifteen days it took for him to regain consciousness, Mako had never once left his side.

She shook away the memories and reminded herself that as much as she might want it to be, this little chat wasn’t just a social call.

“I know Tarrlok’s fuckers already worked you over at the hospital, but we’re gonna ignore that. Now that I’ve finally got you here alone, you’re going to tell me exactly what the fuck happened in the alley that night.”

Mako took a deep breath. “There were two of them, a metalbender and a waterbender, or so I thought.”

“The metalbender, one of ours?” Lin asked, already dreading the answer.

Mako hesitated. “I don’t think so Chief. She was way, way too good. Frankly, I’m not sure even you could take her. Her technique, I’ve never seen anything like it—it wasn’t normal earthbending, it was something closer to waterbending, or even dancing—all fluid moves, no cables, just razor-sharp strips of metal. And Chief, she wasn’t bothering with nonlethal force. She took out at least twelve of Tarrlok’s people without so much as flinching. She only went down because someone behind her got off a lucky shot that her partner couldn’t deflect in time.”

“And her partner, the waterbender?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Mako’s tone was flat.

“Try me, kid.”

“At first I thought she was just that, a waterbender. But they were acting, well, weird around each other. Right before everything went to shit, the metalbender pulled her aside, told her ‘watch my back, water only, keep your hood up.’ At first I had no idea what she meant, but then one of Tarrlok’s firebenders took out the wall above us. I thought we were done for until that wall rose up. It was her, it had to have been. Bolin was unconscious and there was no one else around. And there’s one more thing… before everything went black, I could've sworn I saw her block and redirect a ball of flame.”

Lin took a deep breath. “Let’s say for now I believe your crazy bisonshit, can you give me a physical description?”

“I was pretty out of it and I didn’t get the best look, but she was probably a couple of cùn shorter than the metalbender, so maybe 5 chi or a cùn or two above, it was hard to tell with the hood. Short brown hair, Southern Water Tribe complexion but Earth Kingdom garb, piercing blue eyes—she couldn’t have been older than eighteen or nineteen.” Mako inhaled sharply and looked her directly in the eye. “Trust me, I’ve thought it through a million times, but it all fits. It was her.”

She pulled herself up from her slouch and leaned across the desk. “Mako, I want you to listen to me very carefully. You will tell absolutely no one about this. As of right now, you are suspended pending recovery on full pay. Go home, get some rest, take care of Bolin—”

Mako stammered, this was clearly not how he had expected this conversation to go. “But Chief—“

She cut him off sharply. “No arguments, Mako. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, but there is something very, very bad going on here and I need you out of harm’s way. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“Good, now go.”

Mako paused for a minute. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but the glare she shot him made it clear there would be no further discussion. He stood awkwardly and limped out, gingerly closing the door behind him. Letting out a deep sigh, she collapsed back in her chair. She found herself idly wondering if that bottle of Fire Nation whiskey was still in the bottom drawer.

Her attention returned to the pile of open cases, now so high it was threatening to slide sideways off her desk. She stared at it for a minute, tapping her pen against the desk. Then suddenly it came to her, an idea so appalling she scarcely wanted to entertain the possibility. But there it was, a familiar sinking feeling as pieces of something horrible slotted into place. With growing dread, she picked up one of the missing persons files in the stack and flipped it open. It was for a Southern Water Tribe girl, barely eighteen, 5 chi with blue eyes… quite pretty, in fact. She set it aside and opened the next—another Southern Water Tribe girl, seventeen, 5 chi, 1 cùn, blue eyes; then the one below it, again a Southern Water Tribe girl, eighteen, 4 chi, 9 cùn, blue eyes; and then another… her blood curdled with rage.

She stood and slammed her fists down, the metal desk curling and deforming around them like a pastry shell. She took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. That bastard. A wave of nausea overtook her, so powerful it made her knees buckle. So that was what Tarrlok was doing. If she didn’t stop him, he would work his way through every Water Tribe girl in Republic City until he found the one he was looking for. She needed to get to the Council. She needed to end this now.

Lin snatched the files from her desk and shoved them hastily into a bag. She made her way out of the precinct in a haze, ignoring the shouts and requests that followed her. She stormed the four blocks to City Hall, leaving passersby scattered in her wake. Barreling through the foyer, she ascended the stairs and made her way down the hallway toward the main chambers. If she was lucky, they’d still be in session and she could make this swift. But then she saw the group of people standing in the hall ahead. Tarrlok in his council finery, surrounded by a handful of men from his task force and… Captain Saikhan?

“Ah, Chief Beifong, just the woman I wanted to see.” The sound of her name on his lips made her bristle. Reaching out a hand, he gave her a toothy smile that stopped far below his eyes. She ignored it and gripped the bag more tightly, her shoulders tensing.

“Whatever it is Tarrlok, it will have to wait. I have business with the entire Council.”

He pulled himself up to his full height, still several cùn shorter than her. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Given the unprecedented nature of the Equalist threat, the other councilmembers and I have agreed that strong and decisive leadership is required in these trying times. The Council has been dissolved and its powers have been transferred to my office, though I’m sure some members will wish to remain on in an advisory capacity.”

Fuck, I’m too late. You motherfucking hog monkey piece of shit…

Lin snarled at him. “This is a coup, you won’t get away with this.”

Tarrlok ignored the slight, instead shifting closer to Saikhan. “And Lin, I’m afraid there is another matter. The recent lack of cooperation between the RCPD and the Council’s Special Task Force on Equalist Activity has been most concerning. I have spoken with Captain Saikhan here and we agree that certain changes must be made if the entire government is to work together for the safety and security of our city. As of this moment, you are placed on leave, with full pay and benefits befitting your rank. I believe that I speak for all of us in thanking you for your long and dedicated service. Saikhan, would you be so kind as to take her badge?” A satisfied glint in his eyes and the curl of his lip belied the practiced civility of his tone.

Lin couldn’t believe what she was hearing, that he’d actually have the fucking nerve. How long had he been planning this? She felt the rage course through her, drowning everything else out.

“Fuck you.” She spat, shifting her stance and readying the cables at her waist. Six task force members stepped in between her and Tarrlok in response, while four others took up position behind her.

The bastard chuckled, now openly enjoying this. “Now now, there’s no need to get confrontational. It would benefit none of us if you were to be detained for misconduct. Go home Lin, tend to your daughter and get some rest. You’ve done enough.” He said it with a smile, his tone a hideous perversion of fatherly concern.

Lin wanted nothing more than to slice that smug fucking smile clean off his face, but even she could recognize when she’d been beaten. Saikhan stepped forward tentatively, his hand outstretched. She ripped the badge from her chest and crumpled it in her hand, tossing it at his head as she turned away without another word and stormed off down the hall and out of the building. Fuck. Reeling, she tried to collect herself. She could figure out what to do tomorrow. She would figure out what to do. But right now, what she needed more than anything was to get home and get drunk enough to forget this had ever happened.

She was halfway down the steps when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Lin! Please, let me explain!”

She turned to find Tenzin, his robes disheveled, a distraught look on his face. “I’m so sorry Lin, please understand… there was nothing I could do. All the other Councilmembers voted in support. I had to think of my duty to Air Temple Island and the Air Nation, to ensure their continued safety…”

Lin stared at him in disbelief. “You’re actually going along with this. You worthless, spineless piece of—”

“I’m sure this will all only be temporary, we’ll fix this—” he pleaded.

She cut him off, not wanting to hear even one more syllable of his pathetic rationalization.

“Tsomo was right about you,” she snapped. “You’re a disgrace as a leader, and an even worse father.”

Tenzin looked as though he’d been struck, she spat at his feet before turning and walking off.

She stumbled up the stairs of the apartment, still in a fit of blind rage. She twisted the metal lock open with enough force to snap it and slammed the door shut behind her. Chest heaving, she grabbed the empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter and flung it against the far wall, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. Sobs overtook her as she dropped to the ground, it was close to an hour before she could breathe easily again. She stood on shaky legs and grabbed another bottle from the cupboard, not even bothering to bend her armor off as she collapsed onto the couch.

She was three quarters of the way though when she sensed light footfalls coming up the steps and heard the door creak open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Mom? What the fuck, the door’s busted and there’s shattered glass everywhere. Did somebody break in?”

“Nah, just lost my temper.”

Tsomo came closer before recoiling. “Spirits, mom. It’s barely seven and you already smell like a fucking distillery. What happened?”

“Lotta stuff.” She grunted.

Tsomo did that weird little head motion that meant she was sensing the currents around her, creating a map of the world in her mind. Her hand reached out and brushed the table next to the door. “Where’s your badge?”

“Gone.”

“What!?” Tsomo yelped, and the unbidden surge of shame made Lin want to vomit.

“Tarrlok. Apparently I don’t tongue-fuck his boots the way he likes it. He replaced me with Saikhan, the sniveling little shit.”

“But he can’t, the Council…” Tsomo stuttered.

Lin didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in her voice. “There is no more Council, it’s all Tarrlok’s now.”

“And dad?”

“Went along with it, presumably they threatened funding for his little island…”

The air around them leapt into motion as Tsomo bristled with rage. Papers went flying everywhere, the framed photos on the table opposite the window fell and shattered.

“That spineless, sniveling, no good cowardly piece of shit…” she seethed.

Lin couldn’t help but felt a small swell of pride as she heard her own words echoed back through Tsomo. “I told him you were right about him, to his face.”

The wind calmed, Tsomo barked in laughter. “Bet he liked that.” Then in a smaller voice, she asked, “so what now then?”

Lin let out a mirthless laugh. “Fuck if I know.” She took another swig of whiskey. “And where the fuck were you today? You’re covered in grime and there’s a cut on your chin.”

Tsomo flinched almost imperceptibly before answering. “Meditating and practicing forms in the mountains, like yesterday and the day before.”

Even through the haze of drink, Lin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tsomo had been acting odd for weeks now, always coming home late, covered in mountain dirt and the occasional scratch or cut. She’d somehow stopped drinking, and Lin had suffered with her through a week of intense irritability coupled with trembling and sweating, Tsomo pale as a sheet. She looked much better now; Lin was happy to see that she’d even gained a bit of weight. She was calmer, even happy on occasion. Lin was torn between relief and a nagging curiosity, what in the name of Raava could have prompted all of this?

“You’re lying.”

And she was. Tsomo was a much better liar than either of her parents, but Lin could still tell when she was trying to hide something. Her breathing became too even, and her voice hitched ever so slightly.

Tsomo evaded the question, instead reaching out to her. “You’re drunk. Come on, let’s get you out of your armor and into bed.”

Lin attempted to stand, only to stumble and crash back down onto the table in front of the couch. Tsomo sighed, grabbing her arm and using a ball of air to support her back as she pulled her to her feet. They slowly made their way past the kitchen and to the hall, Tsomo flicked open the divider and ushered her inside. Lin shed her armor in a heap and collapsed onto the bedroll, Tsomo rolled her to her side and covered her with a blanket. The last thing Lin remembered was a cup of water being set on the mat beside her and quiet sobs as soft steps retreated and the divider slid shut.

She woke up with the worst hangover of her life, slick with sweat and grime from the previous day. Rolling over onto her pillow, she stifled a groan. She reached for her armor reflexively and had put half of it on before remembering that there was no longer any point. Her job was gone, and her daughter and her sanity were both slipping through her fingers. She collapsed back to the mat, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed and silently hoping for oblivion.

The sound of the other slider startled her back to her senses, she heard Tsomo’s light footfalls as she made her way to the door. She heard the broken latch scrape against the doorframe, the sound of steps down the stairs and out. Struggling, she pulled herself up, hoping there were still some cold noodles in the icebox from several days prior. But as she reached for the handle, she noticed Tsomo’s glider sitting beside the door, untouched. If she was meditating up in the mountains, why would she leave it behind? A wave of dread and panic coursed through her, something felt very wrong. It took her less than a second to make the decision, the mess with Tarrlok and his missing girls gone from her mind. Tsomo was her priority, and she needed to know what was going on.

Suddenly energized, she threw on the rest of her armor and grabbed a cloak from the rack. Rushing down the steps she peered out onto the street, hoping she wasn’t too late to catch her. She spotted Tsomo near the end of the block, turning left. She followed, rushing to catch up but careful to stay out of her sensory range. Four blocks later, she watched as Tsomo waved down the driver of a rather decrepit black satomobile and hopped into the back seat. The driver’s face was obscured by sunlight glinting off the glass, but she could’ve sworn she saw a flash of green.

Unpleasant memories of Su’s run-in with the Terra Triad rushed to the forefront of her mind. That wouldn’t happen again, not on her watch. She’d protect Tsomo at all costs, even if it meant dragging her bodily from whatever shit she’d managed to get herself into.

She acted without thinking, jumping into the driver’s seat of the nearest truck. As she started the engine, the man unloading melons from the back leapt in alarm.

Twisting in the seat, she yelled back at him, “This is Chief Beifong. This is a police action, do not interfere.”

He just looked at her in confusion, “But weren’t you—”

She growled in exasperation. “Don’t worry, I’ll get your precious fucking melons back, I just need to borrow this for a bit.”

She pulled away after the black satomobile, an indignant squawk of “But my melons!” echoing behind her.

Thankfully the roads were fairly busy at this hour. The black satomobile wasn’t hard to catch, and she was able to maintain several cars between them for cover. She followed them out of the city, always staying just on the edge of visual range behind other vehicles. At one point well-outside the city the satomobile doubled back and cut through a side street in a small village, clearly intent on shaking any pursuers.

These fuckers were good—but she was better.

The thought prompted another wave of anxiety and unpleasant memories. The scars on the side of her face twinged slightly.

Nearly an hour later, they were deep in the mountains outside Liandu. The satomobile turned off onto an access road ahead and she drove past, pulling over only once she was around the bend. The last thing she needed was to cause suspicion or alert them to her presence. She abandoned the truck and approached the access road they had disappeared into on foot, checking the ground every few minutes for activity. If anyone had been there their footfalls were long gone, the earth was silent as she approached.

Two dozen paces down the road, she found the satomobile hidden behind a wall of earth and covered in branches. She forced herself to tamp down panic. Tsomo was definitely involved in something, and whatever it was it couldn’t be good. Whoever they were, these people clearly didn’t want anyone knowing of their presence.

My beautiful, stupid child, what have you gotten yourself into?

She followed the broken road upwards until she reached a clearing, bordered on one side by a moss-covered wall. Once again, she retracted her boot and stomped down. There were two people sparring in the courtyard beyond the wall, with four, no, six people watching them. She recognized the footwork of the one closest to her, it had to be Tsomo. She could hear earth shifting and ice shattering, she picked up the faint smell of brimstone and ash. That made no sense, if there were only two of them sparring, why would there be multiple elements? She shrugged and set her shoulders; she’d find out soon enough. Whatever happened next, she was ready. She vaunted over the wall.

Looking back, she couldn’t have been more wrong. As she landed, she took in the scene in front of her. A handful of people sat watching the match under the verandah to her right, now jumping to their feet. She dropped in front of Tsomo, who spun and leapt back upon sensing the unexpected arrival. Beyond Tsomo stood her sparring partner, a waterbender around her same age. The girl looked at Lin with an expression of total shock. Short but powerfully built, she had the muscles and stance of someone trained for combat. She wore a light tunic over her bindings and a pair of trousers, both her forearms wrapped in the traditional earthbender style. Her complexion however was Southern Water Tribe, with short hair and vivid blue eyes… wait, no. It couldn’t be.

Lin’s question was answered less than a second later. The waterbender snapped out of her daze and dropped the ice spear she’d been holding, lighting flames in both her palms and stomping to raise several large blocks of earth behind her.

“Sozin’s balls it’s the spirits-damned Avatar, fuck me.”

For the first time in her life, Lin Beifong found herself completely poleaxed.

Tsomo just stood there in front of her, surprise and horror flashing across her face. “Mom?”

“Tsomo. What—?” she gaped, the words dying in her throat.

Both girls slowly backed away from her toward the house where the group of six adults had taken defensive positions. Still frozen in place, she took them in—behind Tsomo, a tall man with a goatee and long black hair, covered with tattoos; next to him a slight woman somehow wielding water tentacles as arms; Tsomo’s metalbending driver near the edge of the group, now standing next to a bald man in loose robes with a scar across his eyebrow. And then there were the last two… her blood ran cold. That’s impossible. Flanking her daughter and the girl who was apparently the Avatar were not one but two people who simply shouldn’t exist. Combustionbenders. It didn’t matter who the others were, she was as good as dead already.

The tall man behind Tsomo smirked. “Good to see you again, Chief Beifong. Or Former Chief, I guess I should say.”

Lin blinked at him. That man, his tattoos and that lopsided smirk… a memory resurfaced of an attack and ensuing jailbreak two decades prior. The earthbender, no, lavabender, a waterbender with no arms, a combustionbender, the qì blocker… it all clicked into place. Oh, fuck.

“Tsomo, do you have any idea who these people are? That man, he tried to kill your grandmother!”

“Relax, it’s not like I succeeded.” The casual jibe made her blood boil.

She saw Tsomo lean back and ask something that sounded a lot like “satomobile?” The man nodded. Wait, she knew?

“Tsomo, what are you doing? What have you done?”

“Training the Avatar, I thought that was obvious?” Tsomo’s tone was blunt, even relaxed. It made her mind reel.

She could feel the pressure building in her forehead and the throbbing at her temples, everything began to close in around her. This was all too much to take. She took several deep breaths and tried to control her heartbeat.

Come on, pull it together Beifong, think.

“Are they keeping you here? Have they threatened you?”

Tsomo sighed. She sighed at her! “No, mom. They asked me, and I volunteered.”

Disbelief flashed quickly to anger. “For fuck’s sake Tsomo, these people, they’re anarchist terrorists!”

That smug fucker behind her just shrugged. “Eh, terrorist, freedom fighter…”

“You think I don’t know that! I fucking agree with them!” Tsomo threw up her arms, shouting back at her.

“I raised you better than that!” Lin snapped.

Lin realized a second too late what she’d said. Rage flashed over Tsomo’s features. “You didn’t raise me at all, you pawned me off on an airhead with a savior complex because you were too obsessed with your job. How’s that going, by the way?”

Lin snarled, her voice low. “Tsomo, get away from them this instant.”

She laughed mirthlessly. “What are you going to do, arrest me?”

And just like that she was calm. Her mind collapsed to a single thought, one impulse overriding all others. She could deal with the consequences later, right now she needed to get Tsomo out of here.

“Tsomo I don’t give a fuck what you think, we’re leaving even if I have to fucking drag you.”

She moved to grab her daughter and the world around her erupted in rapid motion—the older combustionbender stepping out in front, murder in her eyes; the younger one lurching forward to shield Tsomo with one arm, a dagger of flame erupting from her free palm; the waterbender, arms flaring and splitting into tentacles tipped with ice; the rest dropping into combat stances; the Avatar, the spirits-damned Avatar, advancing on her with hackles raised…

“ENOUGH!”

Everyone froze. She saw confusion and then comprehension flash across her daughter’s face. From the edge of the group, the metalbender stepped forward. She held herself with deadly precision, her muscles flowing and loose, every movement perfectly calculated. Her jaw was set, her face completely expressionless save for violent green eyes that met hers in a look of sheer, unbendable will.

“Step back, all of you. I’ll take care of this.”

She advanced on her, showing no sign whatsoever of fear or hesitation. Lin dropped into a combat stance without thinking.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Kuvira.”

Chapter Text

The two circled each other in the courtyard as the others retreated to the verandah. The qì blocker had disappeared, no doubt checking the periphery for backup that wasn’t there. Lin was beginning to wish she’d given him something to worry about.

Kuvira stood a handful of paces away, arms loose at her sides, on guard but not in striking position. She had discarded her cloak and the bulk of her armor, leaving only the steel strips along her arms and flank. Her clothes were the deep forest green of Zaofu, and her belt bore the insignia of the metal clan.

The anger Lin had tamped down burst free again, liquid metal in her veins. She raged at the thought of her sister’s involvement. First the triads and now this… was there any tiny scrap of her happiness that Suyin couldn’t turn to ruin? Fuck it, she was going to make this hurt.

She tossed a sarcastic jeer at the guard. “Kuvira, the prodigal adoptee… of course Su’s mixed up in this.”

She’d been expecting some nasty retort or even gloating, but what she saw instead surprised her. Anger and grief flashed across Kuvira’s face, the briefest crack in her façade. That didn’t make any sense, unless… Su’s last letter had pointedly avoided the topic of her adopted daughter.

For once, being the silent recipient of Suyin’s monthly diatribes was turning out to be useful. She’d always found Su’s relationship with Kuvira disconcerting—Su fashioned herself a savior, one with the benevolence and wisdom to turn a poor orphan girl into her most trusted protégé. She recalled a letter years ago describing a fight between the two, some disagreement over how to handle a bandit on Zaofu’s borders that had apparently escalated into a screaming match… perhaps the guard had finally put her foot down and gone rogue. Come to think of it, that would also solve the mystery of why Su would suddenly decide to drop her holier-than-thou noninterventionist act.

She felt an unwelcome pang of sympathy for the kid. Her sister was nothing if not overbearing, her empathetic instincts always masking an unsettling undercurrent of self-interest. Twenty years of unanswered letters sitting in her office drawer attested to that—leave it to Su to turn seeking forgiveness into an act of selfishness.

That small measure of sympathy disappeared when Kuvira spoke, her tone even and deadly. “I am only going to say this once, so listen carefully. You have two options, either leave and don’t return or stand down and come inside to talk. If you decline, I will be forced to subdue you.”

The arrogance! “I’m not going anywhere without my daughter.” Lin growled.

“Your daughter is not going anywhere she doesn’t want to go.” Kuvira responded coolly. She glanced over at Tsomo who nodded, wearing a look of intense distress. Lin felt a small twinge of doubt before anger once more overrode it.

She knew exactly what to say to provoke the guard. She also knew it was the absolute last thing she should be doing, but the desire to finally lash out and relieve herself of all the anger and frustration she’d built up made it easy to ignore that little voice of reason.

“I can handle Su’s stray.” She spat.

Kuvira was on her so fast that she barely had time to notice, let alone respond. The guard threw out strips of metal to bind her wrists and ankles while lifting a spike of earth to trip her. Lin sensed the earth rising behind her leg and dodged on reflex while redirecting the metal, which clattered harmlessly off the wall behind her. Still, they had come close enough for her to feel the rush of air left in their wake. She reached out and flung them back, only to watch as Kuvira snatched the strips out of the air without so much as glancing at them.

“You don’t have to do this. We don’t want to harm you.” Kuvira’s voice shifted lower and Lin could hear the emotion Kuvira was hiding underneath, a boiling current of barely restrained wrath.

“Mom, please! This is stupid, just talk to me!”

The plea fell on deaf ears, Lin was well beyond the point of no return. She barely registered Tsomo’s voice while the rest of the world faded away around her, leaving only her anger and its target in perfect clarity.

Lin struck without warning, sending both her cables spiraling out to trap and bind the guard. They never even came close—Kuvira leapt out of the way and plucked them from the air, snapping them off at the base before sending them flying back. Lin lurched sideways, just barely managing to block them with a well-placed wall of earth. Kuvira spared no time, she was back on the offensive in a matter of seconds.

Mako was right, the metalbender was good. No, she wasn’t good, she was incredible. The speed and fury of her attacks were like nothing Lin had ever seen, it took everything she had just to avoid being sliced to pieces. And she was relentless, every move leading into the next, never once giving Lin an opening. Nothing could touch her, she effortlessly dodged and redirected every piece of metal Lin aimed at her. Lin began to wonder if even her mother could match her metalbending in a fair fight.

Kuvira struck again, sending another hail of metal at Lin. There was no room to dodge and no time to redirect, the force of the impact threw her back against the stone wall. She could feel the welts rapidly forming on her chest where the projectiles had struck. Lin dropped to a crouch and spun, returning her volley to no avail. The metal swum around Kuvira like leaves caught in a maelstrom—before she could react, they were once again raining down on her.

Noticing that her strips were having no effect against Lin’s armor, Kuvira reformed them into elongated spikes. Lin ducked and wove, managing to dodge most of them. One still struck true, piercing straight through the armor over her left shoulder and leaving a deep gash before exiting out the opposite side. She bit back a cry of pain, unwilling to give Kuvira the satisfaction.

Lin was almost certainly the stronger bender, but what Kuvira lacked in raw power she more than made up for with agility and finesse. She moved like a dancer, arcing through the air, her feet barely touching the ground. Every strike, every stance was executed with total precision and flawless control; Lin had yet to see her make a single mistake.

Kuvira dropped and spun again. She reformed her strips into solid balls mid-flight and landed three bruising hits to Lin’s right arm and one to her left. Lin bent her armor off and tossed it aside, the weight was making her far too slow and there was no time to repair it. She realized her mistake moments later when a strip ricocheted off the wall and hit her arm from behind, leaving a long shallow cut. Almost simultaneously, a second strip cut much deeper into the outer part of her thigh below her armor, causing her to double over in pain.

Lin panted and pulled herself back up into a fighting stance, focusing all her energy on defense. No matter how she directed the metal she couldn’t land a single hit, Kuvira was just too damn fast. She decided to change tactics, abandoning her cables for rock shards and massive blocks of earth. Lin was relieved to find that while her metalbending was second to none, Kuvira was a middling earthbender at best. She finally began to land hits, first with a block of earth to her torso and then again when she forced Kuvira back over a pillar of rock aimed at her right calf. Kuvira yelped in pain but recovered quickly, somersaulting backwards into a defensive crouch.

They fought like that for what seemed like an eternity, advancing and retreating, neither gaining the upper hand. The courtyard below them crumpled like paper, only Kuvira’s uncanny agility saved her from the unrestrained fury Lin sent coursing through the earth. She lifted blocks of stone the size of satomobiles, hurling them in unison. Kuvira was forced to weave and dodge, finding footholds in midair on ground that was no longer hers. Torrents of metal were met with hails of splintered rock, dust clogged the air.

Kuvira began to falter, the sustained effort and Lin’s numerous small hits leaving her stiff and sluggish. Lin was in no better shape, she felt lightheaded as spots began to cloud her vision. Both had pushed well past the point of exhaustion, and Kuvira’s numerous small cuts along with the deep gash on her left thigh were beginning to take their toll. She scored one final hit with a well-aimed block of earth and heard a scream of pain as something in Kuvira’s side cracked. Lin smiled weakly to herself as the Zaofu guard collapsed to the ground, still at last. The rush of victory was short-lived however, her knees gave out from under her and everything suddenly faded to black. She came to moments later, flat on her back in the dirt and unable to stand.

They both lay there motionless—Lin lacerated and bloody, Kuvira beaten and bruised.

Her words came out as little more than a gurgle. “Talk, we’ll talk.”

Kuvira could only grunt in the affirmative.

The qì blocker reappeared and stepped forward, navigating the boulders strewn through the ruined courtyard to reach neutral ground between the two. “We’ll all get together in the house and talk this through. Korra, see if you can patch her up. Ming-Hua, can you look after Kuvira?”

The waterbender said nothing, just walked over to Kuvira and lifted her in her tendrils to take her away. Tsomo rushed to Lin, her eyes puffy and red. She was followed closely by the Avatar, the girl’s kind blue eyes laced with worry as she knelt at her side. “Don’t move, you’re still bleeding pretty heavily and that cut on your thigh looks nasty.” She turned over her shoulder to the lavabender. “Ghazan, help me get her up?”

Lin could only nod weakly as she was lifted and carried inside.

They brought her to a bedroom in the wing off the main house. Korra accidentally bumped her leg as they set her down, provoking a yelp of pain. The lavabender—Ghazan—propped her up into a sitting position so that she could bend off the remainder of her armor, she deposited it in a heap in the corner. Tsomo fretted nearby, she forced Lin to drink some water before gently airbending her down to the mat.

“That was fucking stupid, mom.” Tsomo’s tone was as much resigned as accusatory.

Lin only grunted in reply. She could barely stand to look at her, the uncontrollable rage from the fight leaving a hollow that quickly filled with exhaustion and shame. Nevertheless, Tsomo knelt beside her, awkwardly clenching her hand. Lin noticed she was shaking, she gripped harder in response. Tsomo cried quietly, her tears interrupted by the occasional muffled gagging sound. Realizing what was going on, Lin shot a meaningful glance at the Avatar. Poor kid never could stand the smell of blood… Korra placed a reassuring hand on Tsomo’s shoulder and whispered something in her ear, and Tsomo gave her hand one last squeeze before getting up to leave with Ghazan. Lin sighed, her body feeling every second of the day’s exertion.

Korra bent over her with an apologetic expression, a clean bucket of water at her side. That this awkward, kind teenager could be the Avatar… it was all a bit surreal. “I’m going to try to heal the cut on your leg first, I don’t want you losing any more blood. This might feel strange and sting a bit, sorry in advance.”

Lin couldn’t help but laugh. “Not my first dogfight kid, get on with it.”

Korra formed a tentacle from the water and guided it over the wound, it pulsed with a faint blue glow as the tissue stitched itself back together. Lin’s eyes widened in surprise, in all her time spent being patched up over the years, she’d never seen anyone use a technique like that. Wherever it came from, it was both powerful and fast—Lin bit back a yelp as the fissure closed, leaving only a shiny red strip of scar tissue.

Korra let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, now that I’ve got your leg done, I’m gonna start on the rest of this mess. Can you get your shirt off?”

Lin grumbled and pulled up the tunic that had been on under her armor, wincing as she did so. The top third of the white tank top was stained a deep crimson, crusting to brown at the edges. Korra’s sighed and guided the tentacle over.

As she worked, Lin stared at the ceiling and tried to let exhaustion bury her thoughts. Tsomo was right, it had been fucking stupid. What had she hoped to accomplish? Her embarrassment mingled with disgust, she’d thought herself better than to surrender to blind rage so completely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by shouts carrying through the divider between the two rooms.

The sharper voice was Tsomo’s. “What the fuck were you thinking? You could have taken her leg off!”

“Forgive me if my aim wasn’t perfect after a dozen rounds of that shit. And in case you weren't paying attention, I was pretty busy with rocks the size of air bison she kept throwing at me!” Kuvira’s unmistakable contralto, now haggard.

Last was a raspy voice she didn’t recognize, presumably the tentacled waterbender. “Will both of you shut up? I’m trying to work here and you’re not making this easy.”

The sound of bare footfalls and the slamming of a divider—Lin chuckled to herself.

A sharp stinging sensation in her shoulder brought her attention back to the girl hovering over it, Korra was sweating from the effort and her brow was furrowed in concentration. Lin hesitated, considering whether to speak. It didn’t seem like the best time to ask questions, but this might be her only opportunity to get the Avatar alone.

“You know, there’s been neither hide nor hair of you in thirteen years. Spirits, most people think you’re dead. Where the fuck have you been?”

The Avatar flinched, looking uncomfortable. “It’s a long story.”

She laughed. “I’ve got time, kid.”

Korra paused, looking at her with trepidation. Giving in, she shrugged. “Fine, might as well start at the beginning.”

Korra resumed moving the glowing water over each of Lin’s cuts and bruises, talking as she worked. She began with their escape from the South, recounting a childhood spent travelling the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom. Her voice hitched sharply when she recalled the White Lotus’ attack at Date Grove and her parents’ death. Lin felt a twinge of anger as she realized that Tenzin was no doubt partially responsible.

The Avatar collected herself, pushing on after a long pause. She told her of their desperate flight to Zaofu and the years she spent mastering her first three elements, how Suyin had granted them asylum and taught her metalbending. Lin chortled to herself as Korra confirmed her initial suspicions regarding Suyin’s involvement, and she couldn’t help but gawk when Korra revealed that yes, she too could bend lava.

She ended with their trip to Republic City and her awkward first meeting with Tsomo, Korra apparently couldn’t resist the temptation to vent her frustrations about her airbending progress. Lin would never admit it, but she was actually rather proud of her daughter for the wringer she’d apparently put the Avatar through. By the time Korra had finished healing her, the sun had begun to set and the light in the room grew golden.

Try as she might, Lin couldn’t find any obvious holes in the story, and it didn’t seem like the girl was lying. Still, it never hurt to be skeptical, despite the obvious risk of angering the girl. “You expect me to just take your word for all of this? How do I know you haven’t been brainwashed by these people?”

It was clearly the worst thing she could have said. Korra recoiled as hurt and anger flashed across her face. “Fine! You don’t believe me? I’ll show you.”

Korra returned the water to the bowl and shuffled over to her pack, extracting a small rectangular object wrapped in cloth. She set it down and gingerly unfolded the fabric, revealing an old photo in a beaten brass frame. Korra touched it with something close to reverence, her eyes tinged with sadness. Realizing the gravity of the gesture, Lin took it gently with calloused hands.

She found herself looking at a faded photo of eight people gathered in front of a building somewhere in the desert. The young Avatar stood in front, not older than nine or ten. She was flexing her tiny arms, her face set in a strongman’s pout. Lin laughed to herself, charmed by the cocky little girl.

A gentle-looking Water Tribe woman stood over her with brown hair parted into two long braids bound in ribbons. She looked down on the young girl indulgently, one hand ruffling her hair. Slightly to the left behind her was a tall, stocky waterbender with a strong jaw and confident smile, clearly the girl’s father. Lin suddenly felt the loss she’d heard in Korra’s voice.

Ghazan stood beside him with one arm around his shoulder, cocky as ever, a grin on his face. He was joined by the woman with water for arms, one raised as if to whack him across the head. She was smiling, Lin found it intensely disconcerting. To the Water Tribe man’s right, the combustionbender towered over the group, both of her arms wrapped around a gangly girl with wild hair, clearly no older than Korra but already almost to her mother’s shoulders. Lin found it hard to reconcile the image of a protective mother clutching her awkward little girl with the killing machine she’d come to expect. She noticed with interest that only the older combustionbender displayed a third eye tattoo. Had her daughter received it later?

Last of course was the qì blocker—he stood next to them wearing a contented smile, one arm around the tall woman’s waist—what a strange little family. They all seemed so happy and relaxed in each other’s presence. Were they a group of terrorists or just an unorthodox family? Or perhaps more unsettlingly, were they both?

“Do you still think I’m lying?” Korra looked at her defiantly, eyes watering.

Lin hadn’t a clue how to respond. Still lost in her thoughts, she carefully handed the photo back to her and watched as Korra re-wrapped it in cloth. “No, I guess I don’t.”

Korra sagged beside her. Her voice was small now, shaking with emotion. “It’s the only photo I have of them.”

“I’m sorry.” What else could she say?

Whatever Lin had been expecting that morning, she wasn’t prepared for the sight of the most powerful being in existence collapsing into sobs in front of her. Propping herself up slowly, she winced through the pain of her half-healed ribs. Doing the only thing she could think of, she wrapped an arm around the girl and pulled her close as her tears ran down onto the front of her shirt.

After what felt like an excruciatingly long time, Korra’s crying finally stopped. She sat back up and stared at the floor with an expression somewhere between shame and discomfort, refusing to meet her eyes. Lin looked at her with sympathy, doing her best to hide her own uneasiness.

“B–better get to the main room, they’re probably waiting for us.”

Thankful for any way to end this moment, Lin nodded and attempted to stand, far too quickly it turned out. Blood rushed from her head and she stumbled. She was still powerfully sore and bone-tired, pesky remnants of her hangover from the night before just adding to the misery. Korra said nothing, she just came over and looped Lin’s arm over her shoulder. Together they limped their way down the main hall.

Huh, not a bad kid, all things considered. Lin thought.

The living space was crowded when they arrived, everyone already arranged around a small table piled high with Fire Nation food. Kuvira sat at the far end propped up on pillows against the wall, bruises already beginning to show on her face and arms. She shot Lin a murderous scowl which Lin returned in kind. Ghazan stood leaning against the wall behind the waterbender, to her surprise he gave her a friendly smirk. Next to them were the qì blocker and the older combustionbender, the former practically in the latter’s lap.

Well that certainly confirms a few things,

Tsomo sat opposite them next to the younger combustionbender. She was leaning in, saying something that made the other girl giggle quietly. Lin wondered how she could be so at ease around these people—how well did she really know her daughter? Tsomo’s head shifted slightly as she noticed her presence; she quickly pulled back and sat upright, suddenly very intent on her food.

The qì blocker looked over and smiled at them. “Korra, Lady Beifong, please join us.”

Lin shuddered involuntarily at the formal manner of his address, remembering many a miserable summer spent in Gaoling. Weren’t these people supposed to be anarchists? “For spirits’ sake, please don’t call me that. Lin’s fine.”

“Apparently it runs in the family.” Ghazan muttered to the waterbender, who snickered.

Introductions were quickly made. The qì blocker—Zaheer—motioned for them to sit at the near end of the table, asking if there was anything he could do to make her more comfortable. Lin waved him away, still entirely unsure how to act around these people.

She looked around the table and took a deep breath, too tired to want anything more than to just get this over with. “The Av–Korra here was kind enough to fill me in on your story, but does someone want to explain to me what the fuck it is that you’re actually doing here?”

Tsomo turned in her direction wearing a reproachful expression, Lin shrugged aggressively at her. She was exhausted and tired of this bisonshit.

Zaheer replied evenly, ignoring the hostility in her tone. “We’re here so that Korra can train in airbending. Believe me, we’d rather be far away from Republic City especially given the current state of affairs, but as I’m sure you’re all too aware, there aren’t exactly a surfeit of airbending masters to choose from.”

He had that right. She amused herself thinking of how Tenzin would have reacted had they approached him instead. Still, Lin was becoming annoyed. She was too damn tired for this dance. “Oh please, cut the crap. You people aren’t just here for her training.”

“I can assure you—” he began.

She cut him off, it was time to end this charade. “Spare me. You aren’t wanted fugitives in three nations because you go around hiring tutors.”

Zaheer said nothing. The older combustionbender— Pi Lee or P’Li or something—hesitated, considering a response. Whatever it had been, the point became moot when her daughter—Nazra, was it?—looked over to Zaheer and then at her mother behind him. “You are planning something, aren’t you? You’re going after Tarrlok.”

Lin couldn’t hide her surprise. Well shit, either the baby beanstalk is a damn fine actress or the kids actually don’t know.

Korra's loud interjection was close enough to Lin's ear to make her flinch. “And you weren’t going to tell us?!”

Zaheer glanced over at the waterbender—Ming-Hua, she remembered—with an expression that very clearly conveyed that they did not want to be having this conversation right now. Ghazan shrugged, while Kuvira just rolled her eyes.

P’Li tried to intervene, “Now is not—”

Korra cut her off, almost shouting. “No! I’m sick of sitting here doing nothing, if you’re going to take Tarrlok down, I’m going to help!”

“Korra, please—” Zaheer attempted to intervene, somehow not realizing that the mongoose-dragon had long since fled the stables.

Korra threw up her arms and yelled at him. Lin was beginning to like her. “I’m the spirits-damned Avatar, if I can’t help fix this what use am I?”

Gotta admit, the kid’s got a point…

Ghazan interjected. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few scouts, or some extra backup…”

Zaheer and P’Li turned on him simultaneously, their voices overlapping. “Shut up, Ghazan.”

Fuck me, it’s freaky how they do that.

“We will discuss this together, all of us, but now is not the time.” P’Li leveled Korra with the sort of incandescent glare that would make a Fire Lord flinch.

Clearly still furious, Korra dropped her shoulders and sat back on her cushion. Damn, someone who can make an angry Avatar back off without saying a word. Lin made a mental note not to piss her off even more than she had already.

“Fine. But this is not over, if you think I’m just going to sit here while you all go risk yourselves, you’re wrong.” Korra got up and stormed out. Going by the resigned looks everyone was sharing, it wasn’t the first time this had happened.

Nazra followed her out, looking both worried and angry. Tsomo twisted towards her in her seat as she left, only to realize that she was now facing Lin. Wait, was her daughter blushing?

Lin forcefully pushed it out of her mind. Oh, no. No no no. I am way too tired for this shit.

Ghazan broke their stunned silence. “Well, I think that went well.”

P’Li glared and Ming-Hua turned to scowl at him.

Zaheer just sighed as if this were a common occurrence and not a family squabble over an assassination plot. “My apologies for Korra, she’s had an intense few weeks. Turning back to the matter at hand, it’s probably best if you both stay here for now, we can discuss this more in the morning. It’s been a long day, and I think we all need time to rest and recover.”

Lin sat bolt upright in alarm. “I knew it! You were never going to let us walk out of here.”

Ming-Hua leaned forward, shooting her a look of intense exasperation. “Fuck’s sake, you pig-headed… fine, leave if you want, we won’t stop you. Even if you did still have a badge and somehow got a whole squad of steel-clad assholes back up here, we’d be long gone. But that would be a fucking headache for all of us, and seeing as we’re on the same side here and you’ve got a freshly-minted despot gunning for you, how about a little cooperation?”

Lin stiffened at the implication. “Whatever else you may think, we are not on the same side.”

Ming-Hua just sneered. “You really think Tarrlok’s gonna oust you and then just let you putter around the city? Impulsively following Tsomo up here is probably the only reason you haven’t been black-bagged yet.”

“She’s got a point, mom.” Tsomo’s voice was quiet and laced with fear. Looking at her, affection and worry drowned out every other emotion. She remembered with no small discomfort why she was here in the first place.

“Fine. But Tsomo and I stay together, and I’m not giving up my armor or my cables.”

“We wouldn’t ask you to!” Ming-Hua smacked her arms down on the table, sending droplets flying. Lin couldn’t help but wonder how someone so small could harbor so much frustration.

Zaheer was keeping a level head through all of this—how, Lin wasn’t sure. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

“No, I buried the truck I drove up in and nobody knew my plans. For all they know I’m still drinking myself to death in an apartment off Zuko plaza.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie; the melon merchant could probably report her for stealing his truck, but she was positive that she hadn’t been followed out of the city, and no one would ever find it unless they knew exactly where to dig for it.

“Still, I think it would be wise to double up on guard shifts for the time being. P’Li and I will take the day shift. Ming-Hua, Ghazan?” Both grumbled but nodded their assent, leaving through the verandah.

Zaheer then turned to her, his gaze softer than she had been expecting. He sighed. “I know this is a lot to take and you’re rightfully suspicious of us, but please know that we would never harm your daughter or try to coerce her.” She wasn’t sure if he was saying it for her benefit or his. Spirits, part of her even believed him.

The remaining three retired to their rooms, Kuvira limping past her with a sneer. “Who’s the stray now?”

Lin bristled but Tsomo caught her before she could respond, tapping her knee to get her attention.

“Come on mom, eat something and let’s go to bed.” Tsomo looked exhausted, it was obvious that she’d been crying. Lin wanted nothing more than to wrap around her and hold her safe. The knowledge that she had been the source of her pain stung her more deeply than any of Kuvira’s cuts.

They sat together in silence as she ate. Lin finished quickly, abandoning the dishware on the table. Tsomo helped her to her feet with a cushion of air and guided her to the room at the far end of the hall. Lin wondered how she could be so furious at her and yet still be so gentle.

Inspecting the room, they found a blanket and two bedrolls in a chest against the wall, slightly moth-eaten but otherwise serviceable. Tsomo eased her down again, and Lin heard her suck in air through her teeth when she felt the fine pattern of fresh scars now covering her. Tsomo very forcefully insisted that she take the blanket. Lin tried to protest, but Tsomo simply brushed her off. She pointedly reminded her that as an airbender she could easily regulate her own temperature.

Tsomo laid down beside her, breaths deep and ragged. It suddenly became very clear just how much of a toll this had taken on her daughter, and she silently hated herself for it. She would do right by her and she would fix this, no matter what it took.

Tsomo’s voice was barely a whisper. “When are you going to start trusting me enough to listen?”

Lin found she had no answer, and the words chased her as she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter Text

Lin awoke the next morning to grunts and noisy shuffling across the divider. She groaned as sensation returned to her body—her joints ached and she felt the dull throb of what she was certain were some fairly magnificent bruises, every healed cut stiff and uncomfortable. She rolled over to find Tsomo sitting in lotus position, clouded eyes open and gazing out into nothing. Her breath had the slow steady rhythm of meditation.

For the first time in weeks, Lin took a close look at her daughter. She was no longer the defeated, ashen creature that had shuffled around their apartment for the past year. Tone had returned to her arms and legs, and her skin was warm from exposure to the sun. She looked healthy and well fed, the bags below her eyes were gone and her cheeks were no longer sunken. Her hands and feet were comfortably calloused, her familiar cool confidence had finally returned. The resemblance to her own mother was almost uncanny, it went well beyond the eyes they shared.

Tsomo twitched almost imperceptibly. “You know, it’s rude to stare.”

Her voice made Lin jump, she never could tell when Tsomo stopped meditating. Her daughter’s expression broke into a weak smile.

Lin sat up and hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard. “Can we talk?”

Tsomo tensed at the question. “Oh, so now you care?” She snapped.

Inhaling deeply, Lin straightened her back and shifted to face her.

Well, here goes nothing…

“You were right yesterday, I made a complete fucking fool of myself. So now I’m going to listen, and I’m going to try not to fuck this up any more than I already have.”

Lin had braced herself for shouting, but Tsomo’s deflated sigh was somehow even worse. “I’m still angry with you, in fact I’m fucking livid, but fine, we’ll talk.”

She sat there for a moment, trying to come up with a neutral way to begin the conversation. Well the basics couldn’t hurt. She thought.

“Who are these people?”

Tsomo’s mouth curled into a half smile—Lin knew from experience that it was a look of knowing anticipation. “They’re the Red Lotus, or what’s left of it at least.”

Lin’s silence drew a raised eyebrow from Tsomo. She felt a mild surge of irritation, galled by the way Tsomo just expected her to know who the fuck that was. “Who?” She asked, perhaps more sharply than intended.

Tsomo looked at her in disbelief. “Did Tenzin really never—fuck, who am I kidding—of course he didn’t.” She sighed in frustration. “The Red Lotus was a splinter faction of the White Lotus, led by a handful of former masters. Anraq, Liu Zhen, and Xai Bau were some, I can’t remember the rest. They objected to the direction the White Lotus had taken after it revealed itself to the public, especially its coziness with world leaders and focus on the Avatar. They claimed it had become a personal guard for the rich and powerful—they weren’t wrong, all things considered.

“The new group saw itself as returning to the White Lotus’ founding principle of working for the good of all people, they supported peasant uprisings, overthrew despots, robbed the rich and redistributed their wealth. As you might guess, this didn’t exactly endear them to the powers that be, and their little rebellion didn’t last long. They were violently wiped out less than four years later. Xai Bau and a few others apparently survived but the organization itself never recovered, now it’s no more than a handful of unconnected cells that adhere to the same general philosophy. No one’s given them serious thought in years, as far as the rest of the world knows they’re extinct. Part of that’s probably due to the fact that they don’t tend to identify themselves even when they are successful.”

“Hmph, I certainly haven’t heard of them.” Lin scoffed, trying to conceal the unease that always came with being caught off guard by new information. “How do you know all of this?”

“It’s not exactly a secret—most of what I just told you is sitting in scrolls at the library on Air Temple Island. The history of the White Lotus doesn’t exactly make for riveting reading material, so unless you’re either looking for it specifically or are very, very bored, you’d never bother.” Tsomo responded with a casual shrug.

Lin smiled in spite of herself. “I think I can guess which you were.” She privately thought it might have had something to do with an acolyte with a particularly nice reading voice, but she knew better than to reopen that old wound.

Instead she changed tack. “Not that I don’t appreciate the history lesson, but why are you with them?”

Tsomo gave her a reproachful look. “Because I agree with them! I agreed with them long before I ever met them.”

Lin wanted to argue, to find out how her daughter of all people became an anarchist and when, but she was smart enough to know that getting into an argument about it now would destroy the tenuous peace forming between them. There would be time later.

She noticed with no small bit of wonder just how relaxed Tsomo had become here. Lin had never seen her so at home in herself. “Something tells me this is about more than just politics.”

Tsomo shrugged, as if to say ‘you’re not wrong.’

“Training Korra has given me the sense of purpose I’ve been looking for, one that’s actually my own. When I’m working with her… I can stop hating myself for being an airbender.” Tsomo’s voice quavered, Lin found herself fighting back tears. She hadn’t realized just how much this meant to her, how it had given her something she never could.

Lin sighed, resolving to this new course of action. “If that’s what it means to you then I’ll support it. But I swear on Koh's asshole, if they put one toe out of line…”

“Mom.” She warned.

Lin lifted her hands in defeat. “Fine, I’m backing off. But don’t expect me to get used to this.”

“You, accepting change?” Tsomo’s voice was teasing.

Lin scowled. “Yeah yeah, I know.”

The corner of Tsomo’s mouth quirked upward. “Give me a little credit at least. I went from a bawling fuckup cooling off in your drunk tank to the Avatar’s airbending master in less than a month, I thought you’d be impressed.”

Lin raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t seem too thrilled about it. I overheard her referring to you as ‘that breezy blue sadist’ during dinner... your pópo would be proud.”

Tsomo cackled at that, finally giving her a genuine smile. Lin didn’t bother to hide her own grin, punching her affectionately in the shoulder. There was still so much between them that needed mending, but Lin was beginning to think that it might all work out in the end.

Breakfast was well underway by the time the Beifongs finally decided to grace them with their presence. Ming-Hua sat at the far end of the low table, idly freezing and unfreezing the tip of her tentacle. A foul-tempered Kuvira was propped up uncomfortably beside her. Ming-Hua was exhausted, hours of healing the previous day followed by guard duty that night left her with precious little patience for whatever bisonshit was about to happen.

The room hushed as they walked in. Tsomo took her usual seat next to Nazra while Lin plopped down awkwardly next to Korra across from her.

Zaheer perked up slightly at their entrance, his reflexive politeness kicking in. “Lin, Tsomo, good morning! Would you care for some tea?” Tsomo accepted while Lin just mumbled something incomprehensible.

Noticing that everyone was finally present, Korra brightened, a challenge in her eyes. “So then, what’s the plan?”

Ming-Hua looked over at Zaheer and P’Li, unsure of how much they wanted to say in what could only be considered mixed company.

Ghazan seemed to read her mind behind her. “Not to be awkward or anything, but should we really be discussing this now?” He eyed Lin, who seemed unperturbed by the insinuation.

“Perhaps it might be best if we spoke with Korra and Nazra alone.” Zaheer offered, always knowing just how to stick his foot in his mouth.

Tsomo bristled. “I didn’t spend a month training that fool just to sit this out. You’re stuck with me.”

Ming-Hua smiled as Korra barked in indignation.

Meanwhile, Lin looked over at her daughter before placing her hands on the table. When she spoke, it was with an authority that left no room for argument. “If Tsomo’s involved, so am I.”

Ming-Hua raised her eyebrows and glanced over at Zaheer and P’Li. Zaheer looked troubled for a moment but gave her a slight nod. Behind him, P’Li lowered her shoulders and flashed out her palms, an old signal Ming-Hua knew meant ‘fine, but I’m not happy about it.’ She looked over her shoulder to Ghazan, who just replied with a resigned shrug.

Finally, she turned to Kuvira, now glaring at Lin. The guard narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, wincing. “If you fuck with us, I won’t be careful about my aim next time.” Lin met her gaze, unflinching.

Concerned that they were headed for a repeat of the previous morning, Ming-Hua made the decision to just get on with it. “Good enough. In short, yes. We plan to remove Tarrlok from power, by whatever means necessary.”

Lin cocked an eyebrow. “By which you mean to say that you intend to assassinate him.”

“You’re one to pontificate on morality.” P’Li replied acidly.

“There are laws, you can’t just go around fucking killing people you don’t like!” Lin snapped back, hackles raised.

P’Li flared her nostrils and barked back laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. Your goons were putting protesters in the hospital last week and you’re going to lecture me on what is and isn’t an acceptable use of force?”

Great start, Ming-Hua thought.

To her relief, Zaheer took that moment to interject. “What would you have us do? Tarrlok needs to be removed from power, yet he now controls the Council, the police, and the majority of the media. In addition to all of that, he has the backing of most of the Republic’s major industrialists and what can only be called a private army. We have it within our power to stop him with minimal bloodshed, can you truly say we’d be unjustified in doing so?”

Korra was up before Lin could respond, snapping in frustration. “Then why haven’t we done anything yet?”

The girl was even more tense than Lin, something Ming-Hua had not thought possible. She sighed, doing her best to rein in her annoyance. “It’s a lot more complicated than I think you realize. The question isn’t if, it’s when.”

Seeing the confused look on Korra’s face, Ming-Hua elaborated. “If we off him too early, the Council and police will just bounce back and crush any popular resistance. If we wait too long, Tarrlok will do that himself. We need Tarrlok to poison his own pit of vipers for us so that when we do remove him, the right people have a chance of filling the power vacuum.”

“And those people are?” Lin asked, looking even more uneasy than before. Ming-Hua took it as a compliment.

“I’d thought that bit would be obvious. The trade unions and the Kuro Hata, plus the Equalists if they ever fix their little cult leader problem.” She replied with derision.

Lin slammed her hands down on the table in anger. “And I was just beginning to think you people could be reasoned with! You want to hand my city over to bunch of militant workers, anarchists, and nonbender radicals!”

Ming-Hua wished she had a camera in that moment, just so she could capture Lin’s face as she went from person to person in the room, not finding a single trace of her own outrage reflected in any of them.

“Well, yeah?” Ghazan offered with a lopsided grin.

“That is the idea.” Kuvira smirked.

“What, did you think we were just going to take over?” Ming-Hua spoke to Lin as one would to a distraught child, taking secret glee in the former police chief’s bafflement.

Zaheer gave Ming-Hua that stern look that said, ‘stop taunting’ and turned calmly to Lin. “Our role is not to lead, but simply to provide an opening for others. All we seek is to alter circumstances so that the people have an opportunity to take back the power that rightfully belongs to them.”

Lin stared at him in disbelief. Moments passed in awkward silence before she let out a loud, bitter laugh. “Suddenly Izumi’s old nickname for your little group makes a lot more sense.”

“Oh, and that was?” Zaheer asked, cocking an eyebrow. He looked genuinely curious.

“Twenty-odd years back, I was assigned to help investigate a series of mysterious disappearances and assassinations in the Earth Kingdom, mostly warlords and petty despots and the like. When I asked Izumi if she knew who was responsible, she just smiled and said it was Special Circumstances.”

Ghazan crossed his arms with a hint of a sneer. “That’s pretty rich coming from her.”

Zaheer shrugged, clearly not picking up on Ghazan’s discomfort. Ming-Hua groaned inwardly—it was the worst possible time to rehash this particular argument. P’Li seemed to agree, she looked down at him, frowning in exasperation. Zaheer of course was oblivious, once again a victim of terminal foot-in-mouth disease. “I won’t argue that, but for the time being she appears to be doing more good than harm.”

“Oh, so it’s only some tyrants you disapprove of?” Lin leered, satisfied with herself.

Ming-Hua sighed quietly and looked at Zaheer. Her friend never really could figure out when to shut up. And going by the look on P’Li’s face, he was in for a chilly night or three if he kept talking. But there would be no saving him from himself now—Zaheer was in full pedagogue mode.

“Our ultimate goal may be the dissolution of all governments, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be pragmatic about how we achieve that goal. If Izumi can do a better job destroying her country’s unjust system from within than we could from without, why shouldn’t we let her? She’s eliminating poverty and nationalizing their major industries while bringing her military almost entirely to heel, things I frankly didn’t think possible given the Fire Nation’s social structure. And if she abdicates successfully, it just might be the first peaceful transition of power in that nation’s history.”

P’Li’s lips tightened into a thin line and Ghazan flexed his arms, scowling. Ming-Hua saw no fault in Zaheer’s argument, but she also couldn’t blame her friends for not sharing his tolerance for the current Fire Lord. She certainly shared their ire at how he spoke about it. It was one of very few topics on which his rather comfortable upbringing seemed to color his perspective; she wondered if he was even conscious of it. The rest of the room was clearly picking up on the tension—Korra looked nervous while Nazra and Kuvira both stared off into space, not wanting to get involved.

Damn Zaheer and his idiotic tangents. She briefly considered just letting the fight happen, but her tea was already cold and she wanted nothing more than to get this over with and finally sleep. “Can we please focus?”

“Now, I know I’m not the master tactician here,” Ming-Hua waved a tentacle sarcastically in Zaheer’s direction, “but might I point out one minor issue? You seem to be forgetting the standing army that will waltz into Yue Bay the second they get wind of unrest.”

To her surprise, Zaheer seemed unfazed. “A standing army which is currently led by the son of the last Avatar.”

Ghazan relaxed a bit, picking up on what he was getting at. “Yeah, it's a bit hard to see General Bumi rushing to the rescue of a man who called his sister an ashmaker's concubine.”

“So you’re saying they won’t intervene?” Nazra’s skepticism mirrored her mother’s across the table.

“No, but they will hesitate. It might just give the Kuro Hata and trade unions enough time to stabilize things and make military intervention politically unjustifiable.” Zaheer sounded less than sure.

Ghazan looked unconvinced. “What do we even know about this Kuro Hata? Are they anywhere near ready or even willing to take on a role like that?”

Zaheer had already considered the question and prepared a response. “I can only go off what I’ve read in the news and what Kuvira has reported back to us, but it appears promising. They are very well aligned with us politically, and while the movement is still nascent, they’re growing exponentially. They’ve also built quite an impressive decentralized community support network, even if it’s only in a handful of boroughs for now.”

“And I’m sure the Equalists and Tarrlok are just fine with that.” Ghazan replied, his derision obvious.

Zaheer took no notice. “They align too well with the Equalist’s stated goals for Amon to risk open conflict, they have similar bases of support and he has no interest in alienating potential followers. Tarrlok however is another matter. They were already attracting significant police attention before his takeover, and I can only imagine it will now intensify. Especially as they operate entirely in the open without powerful backers, financial or otherwise—they are a much easier target than the Equalists. We will need to move quickly if we are to forestall that eventuality.”

Lin seemed to share Ghazan’s reservations. “This is fucking nuts—you’re literally working off newspaper articles and hearsay. Even if you offed him tomorrow, you don’t even know if anyone could take charge!”

“Then we will get more information.” Zaheer considered the problem for a moment before turning to Kuvira. “I’d like you to try and make contact with someone in their leadership. Do what you can to gauge their intent, but take care to avoid revealing our presence or our plans.”

Kuvira gave him that pained look she reserved for when he said something blatantly obvious. “Not a problem. In fact, I’d be happy to leave today but someone decided to grace me with several dozen bruises and a fractured rib.” She shot Lin an angry look.

That reminded Ming-Hua of another potential problem. “What about the triads?”

“Toast, mostly. You can thank your boy Amon for that.” Lin replied with somewhat conflicted satisfaction. “The Triple Threats have been wiped out entirely and the Red Monsoons and Terra Triad are now so weak they can’t even collect protection money.”

Finally, some good news! Zaheer immediately ruined it, of course. “That does bring us to the elephant-koi in the room, what will Amon do when Tarrlok is removed?”

Ming-Hua made a noncommittal gesture. “That depends, who’s his backer and how deep are their pockets? For the record, my money’s still on Sato.”

To everyone’s surprise, Lin interjected. “Well it definitely wasn’t fucking Cabbage Corp. The whole thing was a setup but the Council quashed our investigation, no doubt to save Tarrlok the embarrassment. I’d bet my cables that it’s Sato, but we were never able to prove it.”

Zaheer looked across the table to the girl fidgeting with her rice. “Korra, when you were with the Sato girl at the estate, did you notice anything suspicious?”

Before she had a chance to respond, Lin blurted out in shock. “Hold on, back the fuck up a second. How does the Avatar know Asami Sato?”

Ming-Hua looked on with amusement as Korra scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “Uhhh… heh, so about that, it’s kinda complicated… she may have crashed her satocycle into me and then asked me out to dinner, and—”

Lin shot Korra a look of total incredulity, laughing mirthlessly. “So let me get this straight, the spirits-damned Avatar is an anarchist terrorist dating Asami fucking Sato… I just can’t with you fucking people.”

Korra sputtered, turning beet red. “We’re not dating! She’s just a friend, she’s friendly! That’s all.”

Lin raised one eyebrow. “Sure, kid.” There was something else under her expression, but Ming-Hua couldn't place it.

Ghazan looked at Lin and laughed. “Right?”

Korra grumbled and flung her chopsticks, narrowly missing his head. “Shut up, Ghazan.”

Kuvira glared at all three, though Ming-Hua had a feeling it was more in amusement than anger. “Can we focus here?”

Ming-Hua sighed, prodding Ghazan in the side. She loved him dearly, but they’d been up all night and she was very much not in the mood for more breakfast table antics. “As I was saying… Korra, did you see anything when you were at Sato’s estate?”

Thankful for the reprieve, Korra valiantly attempted to compose herself. “I mean, not really, or maybe? It’s not like I stumbled onto a secret underground factory or anything, but there were some things that were well, I don’t know, weird. Especially Mr. Sato, I met him in Asami’s workshop when he came to talk to her about something. He was friendly I guess, but I got the feeling he was uncomfortable with me being there. I don’t know if that means anything though, it might have just been me. I didn’t get the impression that he was particularly happy with Asami spending time with a girl, especially not one who looked as dirt-poor as I did. She looked upset when she came back, though she was trying to hide it. She said something about a project her dad needed her to take care of, she seemed kinda torn up about asking me to leave.”

Tsomo snickered and Nazra elbowed her. Ming-Hua rolled her eyes. “Anything else?”

“Well, there was also a lot of strange traffic on the roads around the estate, mostly heavy trucks even though I didn’t see any construction going on.” Korra hesitated, chewing her lip. “And also… it might be a coincidence, but Asami’s clearly had pretty extensive self-defense training. She definitely used qì blocker moves on me a couple of times.”

Lin gave her a bemused look. “How the spirits did you find out—?”

Korra hunched her shoulders and refused to look up. “We, uh, may have sparred a bit.”

Ghazan was back to grinning like an idiot. “Sparring, sure.”

Korra shot daggers at him, looking entirely mortified. “Seriously Ghazan, piss off.”

“Hey! Nothing wrong with a little roll in the ring.” He gave her a suggestive eyebrow waggle.

Ming-Hua pinched her brow—leave it to Korra to feed Ghazan’s most irritating impulses. “Both of you, behave!” She snapped.

She looked to Zaheer, who met her eyes in understanding. He let out a deep breath before forcing the conversation back to the task at hand. “Given everything we know, it seems likely that Sato is indeed the one financing the Equalists, but without better information it’s still just conjecture. We need to confirm their involvement and determine Equalist numbers and capabilities before deciding when to strike Tarrlok. Ghazan?”

Ghazan shrugged amiably. “Happy to oblige. I’ll scope out the estate and see what I can find.”

Zaheer hesitated for a moment, glancing back at P’Li, who nodded. “Korra, given what we suspect about their involvement, we think it would be best if you refrained from seeing the Sato girl until we know more.”

Korra’s shock quickly turned to indignation. “What, no? I’m in a better position than any of you to find out more! If it’s so dangerous than why does Ghazan get to go?”

“Ghazan has done this sort of work before, he has years of experience on you. Until we know what they’re capable of it’s too much of a risk. Korra, please.”

To Ming-Hua’s surprise, Lin spoke up in support. “Baldy here’s right, you could be walking into a whole mess of trouble without even knowing it.”

Now thoroughly frustrated, Korra pounded the table, once again sending utensils flying. “Why does no one think I can handle myself!?”

“Korra.” P’Li’s tone was sharp, though there was gentleness underneath.

The girl deflated. “Fine, just don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Zaheer looked at her sympathetically. “I know it’s difficult, but sometimes the best course of action is observation. Please just be patient. Focus all of your attention on your airbending training and let us handle this for now.”

Ming-Hua sighed, hoping against hope that their resident hothead would listen for once. “Hopefully we can keep this from becoming a total shitshow. For now, Kuvira will make contact with the Kuro Hata and Ghazan will go scope out the Satos. Until then, the rest of us will stay put.” Ming-Hua shot a warning glance at Korra, who ignored it. She was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

Breakfast had been exhausting. Who knew that anarchists spent so much time fucking talking? All Lin wanted to do was go back to their room and lie down, but there was still one thing pressing on her conscience. She pushed past her misgivings—if these two really were surrogate parents to the Avatar, they needed to know.

She caught the odd pair out near the gate just as they were leaving to make a loop of the property. Zaheer bowed slightly in greeting, but P’Li only acknowledged her presence with a wary look.

She mustered as much authority as she could into her voice. “You two, we need to talk. It’s about Korra.”

Zaheer gave her a troubled look, clearly misreading her intentions. “We have no right to expect you to trust us, but believe me when I say that we would much rather the children not be involved in any of this.”

The gall on this one!

“That’s somewhat difficult given who their parents are, don’t you think?” Lin replied caustically, briefly forgetting what she had come to say.

P’Li looked at her with what could almost be called amusement. “You would know better than most, I expect.”

She was right, and Lin hated her for it.

Lin scoffed. “At least my ‘bring your kid to work’ day didn’t involve assassinations.”

Something in what she’d said made the combustionbender snap. P’Li turned on her, enraged. She stepped forward and loomed over Lin, heat radiating from her open hands. “You know nothing of our life or what we’ve been through. We sacrificed everything—Tonraq and Senna sacrificed their lives—just for the chance that our children might live free from people trying to use them, people like you. You think I wanted this for Nazra, for Korra? A life of uncertainty and violence? The world did this to them, and I will burn it all before I let it destroy my children.”

Zaheer stepped forward to where P’Li could see him and placed his hand gently on her upper arm. She calmed at his touch, Lin could see her breathing beginning to slow. He turned to her and caught her stare, his expression dark. “What was it that you so urgently needed to tell us?”

Lin steadied herself and brought up her shoulders, hoping not to reveal how much the combustionbender’s fury had shaken her. “There’s something else you need to know. Before Tarrlok fired me, I was investigating a series of disappearances. They were all Water Tribe girls Korra’s age, matching her physical description. Twenty-two of them in the last three weeks, vanished without a trace. Tarrlok knows the Avatar is in Republic City, and he won’t stop until he finds her.”

The cold fury behind P’Li’s eyes was unlike anything she’d ever seen, she gazed with the unfettered force of a vengeful spirit ready to incinerate the world.

“Are you sure it’s him?” It was still Zaheer’s voice, but it carried with it a new, terrific anger. She understood now why these people were so feared, and how they were able to accomplish the seemingly impossible.

“Yes. One of the boys the Av–Korra saved the night of the Revelation was a trainee of mine, but Tarrlok’s men beat me to him. They interrogated him in the hospital, keeping him under guard for weeks as he recovered. I only put the pieces together two days ago when he finally gave me his account of that night.”

Zaheer considered her, mere seconds stretched out to infinity. His eyes bore into hers, the anger in his face subsumed by total resolve. “We will make him pay for this, and if they are still alive, we will free them. But Korra cannot find out about this. If she does there will be nothing any of us can do to stop her.”

Chapter Text

“More tea, miss?”

“Thank you for asking, but I’m fine, really.”

It was the third time he’d asked. She balanced a chopstick on the knuckle of her first finger, spinning it slowly. Thirty-five minutes and Rava was still nowhere to be seen. She glanced down the street again almost out of reflex. The man behind the counter noticed and spared her a sympathetic look. It made her feel a vague sense of shame—what must old Narook think of this foolish girl, pretty and pathetic, stood up on what wasn’t even really a date?

Asami’s disappointment gradually gave way to irritation, she couldn’t help but think of all the work she could be doing, should be doing, instead of waiting at this dingy little noodle stand in a sleepy part of Little Water Tribe.

Chiding herself, she tried to pretend the tight feeling in her gut was embarrassment and not melancholy. She sighed and thought of that cocky smile, how uncharacteristically easy it had been for her to relax in its presence.

Another ten minutes passed. What had she been expecting? She’d never been good at this sort of thing. Vulnerability seemed to strip her of the easy charm she relied upon, leaving her a diffident mess. Being open scared her in a way few other things could. An old thought rose unbidden in her mind.

Go on, let them see what lies beneath that pretty armor and then watch as their want evaporates—it’s not you they desire. You’re but a hermit crab, living in an ornate shell that was never yours.

She clenched her fists and tried to push it away. Perhaps she’d been foolish to think Rava would be different, especially after the awkwardness of their last farewell…

Just as she was contemplating reaching for her bag to pay the bill, she saw a flash of green out of the corner of her eye. She almost fell off her seat in surprise as Rava jogged down the street towards her, chest heaving, forehead and arms slick with sweat.

“Asami!”

Rava rushed up, pulling her into a crushing hug without warning. Asami’s sharp gasp caused Rava to wince and pull back, her face flush with embarrassment. Her eyes darted to the sweat marks she’d left on Asami’s jacket.

“Ah, sorry!” Rava balanced on the heels of her feet, looking sheepish. “I just saw you and got excited, and I sort of forgot that I ran here and that I’ve only known you for like a month and also that you’re probably pissed at me for being so late and—"

Asami cut off Rava’s rambling, laughing in happiness and relief.

“No, it’s fine! I’m just glad to see you. Care for some food?” She asked, gesturing to the vacant seat next to hers.

Rava grinned in response, clattering gracelessly onto the stool. “I’d love that, I’m starving! I haven’t had anything to eat since sunup.”

Happy to oblige and rather hungry herself, Asami ordered them two bowls of seaweed noodles. Rava provoked a strange look from Narook when she asked for a side of dragon chili paste.

Asami teased her. “Not very authentic of you.”

Rava mumbled in response, not looking up. Asami groaned inwardly, realizing that she’d clearly hit on something sensitive without meaning to.

Asami stumbled over her words in a hasty apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”

Rava looked even more embarrassed than Asami felt. “No! It’s okay, it can just be a little strange sometimes. People make assumptions because I look well, like this,” Rava gestured wordlessly at herself, “and then it gets awkward when they realize I’m pretty much as clueless about most things Water Tribe as they are.”

Asami smiled sympathetically. “I guess I know what that’s like. People assume I’m Fire Nation even though I’ve never so much as stepped foot in Caldera.”

“Right? It’s frustrating! It’s not like I go traipsing around Republic City on the back of a polar bear dog.” Rava scrunched her face into a serious expression and mimed riding in a saddle as she gripped invisible reins.

Asami’s shook with laughter and she slumped forward onto the counter, spilling what was left of her tea.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a sight.” She sighed happily, trying to catch her breath.

Suddenly curious, she asked, “what made you choose this place? It seems Fire Nation food is more your speed.”

Rava’s expression became distant. “Some weird sense of nostalgia, I guess.” She replied, giving Asami a wan smile. “Besides, I figured a Fire Nation joint might bring up some unhappy memories.”

The thoughtfulness of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. Asami reached out her hand and Rava took it with a half-smile, a knowing kindness in her eyes. Asami felt a surprising sense of relief—the moment should have been uncomfortable or painful, but somehow she felt nothing but safety with this strange girl.

Food arrived and Rava slurped down the noodles with gusto, splattering Asami with broth in the process. She looked on sheepishly when Asami made an indignant noise but could hardly contain her smile. Both girls broke out laughing.

“You’re a terror with food, you know that?” Asami shook her head in disbelief.

“So I’ve been told. I guess I really should’ve suggested something other than noodles.” Rava replied with that self-deprecating grin that made Asami’s stomach flutter.

For a while there was nothing but happy slurping, each content to just quietly enjoy the other’s company.

Rava finally broke the silence, hesitation in her voice. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more. It’s not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just that it’s been difficult to get away lately. My uncles need a lot of help this time of year, and they’ve been nervous about me going down to the city with everything that’s been going on.”

Asami’s expression darkened. “I can’t say I blame them. Things seem to get worse with Tarrlok every day. Now that he controls the police, there isn’t a nonbender in the city who’s safe.”

Rava’s worried look quickly shifted to one of anger. “Some are less safe than others; funny how he always picks on those least able to fight back. Because some homeless nonbender just trying to live his life is clearly such a threat to peace and security.” She spat in disgust.

Asami nodded in agreement, trying to hide her twinge of discomfort. “Someone needs to stop him, but with the way this city is I worry anyone who tries will just provoke more violence.”

Rava looked away with an expression Asami couldn’t place. “It makes you wonder if even the Avatar could fix things.”

Surprised at the non-sequitur, Asami scoffed. “If the Avatar were here, she’d just be putting the Equalists down like any other peasant rebellion.”

Rava’s face twisted in something Asami almost thought was hurt. “I mean, they haven’t all been like that, there was Yangchen, and Kyoshi—”

Asami couldn’t suppress her laugh at the other girl’s naïveté. “Kyoshi created the Dai Li! Even Yangchen was willing to accept injustice if it meant peace.”

Rava sighed, looking deflated somehow. “You’re right, I guess. It seems kind of foolish to look to the past for the power to fix the present.” She paused and shifted the tone of her voice, as if reciting something from memory. “’Courage consists in agreeing to flee rather than live tranquilly and hypocritically in false refuges.’”

That phrase sounded familiar somehow. “Guru Shoken?” She asked, trying to recall a hazy history lesson from long ago.

Rava smiled, raising her eyebrows in surprise. She clearly hadn’t expected Asami to pick up on the reference. “Guru Shentong, actually.”

Asami shook her head, completely nonplussed. Spirits, who was this girl? She seemed to be a study in contradictions—a Water Triber with a penchant for Fire Nation cuisine who dressed in Earth Kingdom garb; built like a bender but with the martial skills and qì blocking of a nonbender; for all the world just another peasant but so well-educated that she could quote obscure Air Nation gurus from memory and argue politics and philosophy with the best of them.

Her burning curiosity mingled with frustration. It was a familiar feeling, not unlike that of a particularly stubborn engineering problem. She was missing some crucial piece of information, some key that would make all of the pieces slot together into a whole.

Asami did what she always did when she was at a loss—she hid her thoughts behind a smile and an innocuous comment. “A tea farmer quoting long-dead Air Nomad gurus, you’re certainly full of surprises.”

Rava looked almost bashful, shoulders hunched in mild embarrassment. “My uncle taught me, he was always spouting on about one dead guru or another.”

Asami gave her a sly smile. “Sounds like an interesting character.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Rava laughed. Perhaps it was just paranoia, but Asami thought she noticed a slight edge underneath the other girl’s humor.

She decided it was best not to pry and shifted the conversation back to more trivial matters. Rava seemed particularly impressed with Asami’s love of tea, she took relish in grilling her about her favorite cultivars.

Asami babbled happily. “Shinchas from Garsai District are just unbeatable, they’re bright and grassy with this wonderful astringency… drinking them makes me think of getting up on a spring morning and watching as first light clears away the morning frost.”

Rava gazed off into space as she spoke. She shook her head slightly and laughed. “My uncle would approve! Those have always been a favorite of his.”

Asami’s mind began to drift. She imagined sitting with Rava high in the mountains, ribbons of steam coming off freshly poured tea in front of them, the yellow morning light casting the curves of Rava’s arms into sharp definition as she gave her that lopsided smile.

She shook herself. “Alas, I’d imagine you’re well into nibancha and sanbancha by now.”

Rava looked nervous and scratched the back of her head. “Oh, well I wouldn’t know really, I mostly just help out around the farm with small tasks. I don’t think he trusts me enough yet to work the harvest.”

“I can’t see why not. After all, you seem very responsible to me.” Asami winked, causing Rava to stutter and blush furiously.

It was strange though, Rava seemed to know much more about drinking tea than actually growing it.

The two chatted amiably well into the afternoon, both kept finding excuses to linger. Asami recognized a familiar anxiety intruding. She was already several hours late getting back to the office, and her absence would be difficult to explain.

She realized with a twinge of sadness that she already missed Rava’s company.

Unprompted, she turned to the other girl as they stood to leave. “Why don’t you come by the estate again sometime? We can take another satocycle ride out into the country, I’d love to show you the roads along the coast.” Asking as casually as she could, Asami tried to hide the want in her tone.

Rava just met her eyes with a lopsided grin. “I’d like that, a lot.”

“Then we’ll do it.” Asami feel lighter than she had in years, Rava’s grin was infectious.

“See you around then!” Rava embraced her again, hesitating as she let go.

Asami’s cheek brushed against Rava’s unruly hair. She smelled of fresh earth and sun, the new growth of spring. Her heart beat furiously as they pulled apart, and she turned to hide the blush spreading up her neck and across her face.

Rava didn’t seem to mind—a small smile fixed on her face even as she looked away. There was another emotion there as well, but Asami didn’t dare hope…

They made their goodbyes and Rava backed off down the street, nearly stumbling over a bicycle before spinning around. She turned again and waved back at her from the corner, a grin on her face.

It all came crashing down in an instant. A van in the street in front of Rava came to an abrupt halt and its back doors burst open. Metal cables flew out, binding her arms and yanking her inside.

Asami reacted without thinking. Time seemed to slow as she burst into a sprint, closing the distance between them. Her eyes locked on the vehicle, she was barely aware of reaching into her bag and pulling on the glove.

Leaping into the open cab of the van as it began to pull away, she gave the driver no time to react. She seized his shoulder with the glove, and he went down with a yelp in a bright crackle of electricity. She grabbed his free arm and wrenched him from the seat before slamming on the brakes. She vaulted across the cab and out the other side, rounding on the back of the van.

She immediately saw a second man kneeling with one arm on the ground, stumbling to get up. She lunged at him, her right hand raised as the glove crackled to life. It came down on his shoulder and he seized, slumping backwards.

As she pulled back, she felt a sudden, stabbing pain between her ribs. She looked down to see a spike of ice emerging from her jacket—she’d been too focused on the man’s right to see the spear forming in his left hand. Stumbling back upright, she heaved as pain spread below her right breast.

She turned back towards the open doors of the van, forcing herself to ignore the hitch in her breath. Before she could react a massive chunk of earth slammed into her chest. It split in two just before it hit, the larger piece exploding across the front of her chest. She felt a series of sharp cracks as the smaller fragment collided with her collarbone, its jagged edges slicing easily through her jacket and deep into her shoulder.

The impact threw her back across the ground and she landed a handful of chi away with an agonizing thud. Her chest seized and she gasped for air. She coughed violently and a metallic taste filled her mouth. She reached up and touched her face only to find specks of blood on her lips and face, she was vaguely aware that it was hers.

She tried to lift her head, ignoring the pain spreading throughout her chest. Blinking back dust, she saw the man who had attacked her framed by the open doors of the van. He was raising more blocks of earth from the pavement when a spear of metal erupted through the center of his chest. Eyes wide, he dropped to his knees.

Rava stood over him wearing a look of inhuman rage. She kicked his back sharply and he fell, crumpling to the ground at the foot of the van. Their eyes met briefly before Asami’s neck gave out, overcome with stabbing pain spreading up from her chest.

She blinked her eyes at the sky above her, bright and vivid blue. She could hear footsteps approaching, a voice yelling her name. She gasped for breath, each try more difficult than the last as the pain on her right side intensified. Her legs refused to obey her, giving no response save for a strange tingling sensation.

Strong arms lifted her from below and carried her back to the truck, and she felt the cold metal of the bench behind her head. Looking up, she saw blue again as a familiar face gazed down on her. The fury in Rava’s face had vanished, replaced by fear. Her friend was shaking and trying to blink back tears. Pain overwhelmed her, the searing agony in her shoulder and below her right breast blending with the sharp tightness in the center of her chest. Her vision grew hazy and the sound of blood in her ears began to dim, and she suddenly heavy and very cold.

“Asami, Asami!” Rava seemed far away, her voice drowning.

Rava leaned over her, arms tense and covered in a thin film of dust and sweat. She saw blood trickling down the front of her face from a deep cut over her right eye. Rava made a clasping motion with her hand, Asami’s shoulder went rigid and she felt a needling pain as small red flecks of rock seemed to lift from her shoulder. A tendril of water coalesced around Rava’s forearm, running over her hand and coming to rest on her chest. Her eyes went wide in shock as it began to glow. Unable to comprehend the sight in front of her, she found herself wondering if she was dreaming.

She heard Rava’s voice again, now even more distant than before. “Don’t move, you have a lot of internal bleeding. I’m gonna try to stop it, and then we’ll get you somewhere safe. Hold on, Asami, please hold on.”

Her body seemed to float, coasting on some unknown current. She felt a strange thrumming sensation across her chest, the metal roof of the van lit up with flickering blue light before her vision faded to black.

She awoke to searing pain across the top of her chest and neck. Her eyes began to focus, and she realized with a start that she was floating, suspended in a pool of water at the center of a large chamber. She was completely submerged save for her head, which had been propped up just enough to keep her face above water.

A high ceiling tapered off in tiers above her, ornately carved dougong covered in red paint that had begun to chip and fade. High overhead, a hexagonal opening let in the dim evening light, or was it morning? How long had she been here? Where was she?

Glancing down, she realized that she was not alone. A woman knelt at the edge of the pool by her side, tendrils of water emanating from her shoulders where her arms should have been. They pulsed with a faint blue light, extending down into the water over her bare chest. She recoiled in shock and let out a strangled yelp, causing another wave of agony to course through her.

“Hey, hey! Easy, don’t try to move, you’ll only make it worse.”

The woman scowled at her with a look of disapproval, her narrow features tight in concentration. The look softened, and she sighed.

“Whatever hit your chest cracked your breastbone and caused a tear in the wall of the vessel ascending from your heart, I’m trying to heal it but for me to do that you need to stay still and not thrash around, got it?”

Asami opened her mouth to respond only for her breath to hitch again in pain. She nodded mutely in acknowledgement, hoping that would be sufficient.

There was another voice from somewhere behind her, this one rough and familiar. “Oh great, the princess is awake.” Wait, Chief Beifong?

The armless woman looked up past her towards the source of the voice. “Go wake up Korra, the girl’s going to have trouble keeping calm now that she’s conscious, and I’m going to need her help to finish this.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” The voice was definitely Lin's, what in Koh’s name was she doing here?

The armless woman sighed in exasperation. “Do you see a third waterbending healer loitering around? Go get her!”

One pair of footsteps left and a short while later two returned, one much louder than the other. A familiar figure stepped into her field of vision—Rava! The sight of her face flooded her with relief.

Rava looked worried and utterly exhausted. The cut over her right eye had yet to be healed, and her hair was still matted with dust and blood. She met Asami’s eyes, giving her a weak smile.

The armless woman pointedly ignored the look began speaking to her at a rapid clip. “Korra, pull up water and focus on the damage to her right lung, it still needs a lot of work. It’s going to be difficult now that she’s awake, try to keep her calm and her breaths regular…”

The words faded into the background. Had she just called her ‘Korra’? That couldn’t be right, unless…

Flashes of memory began to return. She saw Rava standing over a man pierced through with steel, her eyes alight with fury. Rava clasping her open hand as bits of earth seemed to levitate from her wound. And Rava, reaching towards her with a tentacle of glowing water…

No, that’s not possible, she can’t be.

She suddenly remembered where she’d heard the name ‘Korra’ before, and her eyes widened in a rush of hatred and fear. Asami’s chest lurched painfully as she gasped out a handful of words.

“R–Rava? Y–you’re the A–av—”

Rava—no, Korra—stopped what she was doing and looked at her with a wan smile. She nodded, lifting her shoulders in a resigned shrug.

Betrayal and shock washed over her, she looked back at Korra with violent anger. Revulsion at opening herself up to this person, this bender, morphing into hot shame…

Korra flinched but refused to look away. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was afraid—of how you’d react, of what you’d think of me if you knew.”

Asami struggled to move, to lash out, but every twitch caused a fresh wave of agony to course through her, she struggled through wheezing breaths as her chest felt like it was being crushed by a hydraulic vise.

Korra desperately tried to calm her, panic in her eyes. “Asami! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please stop, you’re going to hurt yourself, please!”

The anguish in Korra’s voice sapped her anger, leaving only pain and exhaustion in its wake. She let go and sagged back into the water, now still save for the gentle ripples made by the two healers.

Minutes passed before Korra collected herself and turned to face her once again. “I know you don’t trust me right now and probably hate me, but I promise I’ll explain everything. No more secrets.”

Asami felt crushed, she no longer knew what to think. This was all so much, too much.

Korra continued, the edges of her voice cracking. “We’re not going to hurt you, we just want to help. The group I’m part of, we’re not your enemy. We want the same things you do, we don’t hate the Equalists. We can help.”

So they knew who she was, but how? Why were these benders, spirits, the Bender, trying to save her? Was it just to interrogate her? She needed to find out who these people were and what they wanted. Even if they wouldn’t release her, maybe she could at least convince them to let her father know she was alive. She tried to speak, but her voice came out as little more than an exhausted rasp.

The armless healer had none of Korra’s bedside manner. “Quit trying to talk, you're making this harder. There won’t be any point to all your burning questions if you end up dead. Sit still and let me work, next time I won’t ask nicely.”

Korra shot her an apologetic look. “Don’t mind Ming-Hua, she’s not exactly a people person but she’s the best healer there is.”

“Save for Katara,” Ming-Hua mumbled.

“Fine, the second-best healer there is.” Korra rolled her eyes and it made Asami want to laugh, to forget for a brief moment where they were and what had happened.

Exhaustion was beginning to overtaking her. Asami closed her eyes and let herself drift, tuning out the rapid exchanges between the two healers as they worked. Eventually the thrumming sensation stopped, replaced by a dull ache and numerous small bursts of pain. She opened her eyes to see that it was well into night and the water was no longer glowing.

Korra slouched against the edge of the pool, looking like she was on the verge of collapse. To her surprise, Chief Beifong—former chief, she corrected herself—leaned against the wall behind her, watching Korra with a soft expression that could almost be sympathy.

Lin tensed as she noticed her staring at them, her slouch vanishing. She caught Asami's eyes before glancing away, long-buried anguish briefly crossing her features.

Lin rolled on the balls of her feet, crossing and uncrossing her arms. “Hey kid, you good staying with her or do you need company?”

“We'll be fine.” Korra raised her head and looked up at her irritably.

Lin grumbled, looking hesitant. “Fine then. Come get me if anything else goes to shit, and for fuck’s sake get some sleep, you look like you’ve been running refreshments at Boiling Rock.”

She spared one last glance at Asami and stepped out. Ming-Hua motioned to Korra. “Come on, let’s get her up.”

Asami felt herself being lifted from the pool on coiled tendrils, she was surprised by the small woman’s strength. Cold night air assaulted her skin, provoking another coughing fit. Ming-Hua lifted her chin at Korra, who responded by making a graceful sweeping motion with one arm. Asami started as she felt the water slide off her bare skin and wick from her hair and trousers.

Ming-Hua’s tentacles retreated as she set Asami down, leaving behind no trace of their presence. She felt the bed, soft and warm and so very welcome. Korra covered her with a light sheet, looking away as she did so. Asami was bitterly amused to see a mild flush on her cheeks.

Korra knelt down at her side, she was almost surprised to still see kindness in her eyes. “We’ve healed what we can, there’s only so much we can do while your qì is weak. Your body will replenish it, but it needs time. Drink this, it will help with the pain and let you rest.”

Korra brought a small cup filled with a foul-smelling brown liquid to her lips. Asami pulled back reflexively before relenting. She swallowed as much as she could, gagging at the bitter taste. The liquid irritated her throat and made her cough painfully. Korra caught the spattered blood and gently lifted it away with a wave of her hand.

The pain began to ease into a dull throb, and the edges of her vision grew hazy. She felt a surge of panic as her mind began to slip. Anger and fear vanished, replaced by the knowledge that right now she desperately didn’t want to be alone.

Her unsteady breaths made her voice catch and stutter. “W–will you s–stay?”

Korra looked down at her in surprise and nodded hesitantly. She looked like she’d been crying, probably out of total exhaustion. She lay down on a bedroll beside her and reached out one hand, gently resting it over Asami’s.

Asami felt the tension in her body dissipate as she slipped into unconsciousness. Disconnected images flashed in front of her, a trip years ago to her family’s vacation home north of the city, sneaking out onto the beach under a moonless night.

She remembered wading into the water, pushing out past the breakers into the calm rippling blackness of the ocean. The sudden weightlessness when a big roller overtook her, carrying her up off her feet. She pushed forward until she could no longer feel the sand below her, and with the next wave she submerged her head and let the dark overtake her.

She floated there above an imagined abyss, her fear tempered by a low, permeating warmth.

Chapter Text

Asami is four.

It’s a chilly fall evening, the sun has just begun to set over the Mo Ce Sea. She’s out on the balcony, curled up in her baba’s lap. Baba doesn’t visit often, and when she does it’s never for very long. Asami notices the way father eyes her with mistrust, the unspoken tension between them. Baba’s visits invariably end with them shouting at each other in father’s study.

She doesn’t understand what their fights are about, especially when baba is always so nice to her. She brings her boxes full of sweets and spices from the Fire Nation, and when they’re alone at night she tells her outlandish tales of the war—the boy Avatar and his band of noble peasants; a cunning princess and her scarred brother; a Fire Lord, cold and cruel, driven mad by power.

The sun dips below the horizon and she huddles closer, taking advantage of the warmth that seems to radiate from the old woman.

When Asami looks up she finds eyes the color of the setting sun gazing back down at her. Her baba’s face is soft and unguarded, the sharpness Asami has come to expect is absent from her features.

(She doesn’t yet understand its significance—it’s a look only three people will ever see.)

Baba smiles at her, lips curling in a way that always precedes mischief. “I want to try something with you, my sapling.”

Asami looks at her with wary eyes, she knows by now that baba’s games all seem to end with broken things and angry reprimands from her father.

Baba’s smile widens, reading her thoughts from the trepidation on her face. “Don’t worry my dear, this game is very simple. I want you to listen closely to my breaths and then try to match them with your own. Can you do that?”

Puzzled, Asami does as she’s told, taking deep breaths to the rhythm of baba’s chest. After a few cycles baba stops her, gently placing a hand on her belly.

“You’re doing it wrong. Don’t breathe from your chest, pull from here, up through your core.”

She’s getting frustrated. She doesn’t know why baba is making her do this or why it’s so important. But she wants to make baba happy, so she tries again. She focuses on her stomach and pulls the air in from deep in her core. The volume of her breath surprises her, as does the warmth that rises from below her ribs all the way up her throat.

Baba’s voice is measured, but Asami can hear the barest hint of excitement. “Very good, I can feel your warmth. Now, let it spread.”

Something within Asami releases, a tension that she wasn’t aware she was holding. Her muscles relax of their own accord and she finds that the chill of the wind no longer bothers her. Equal parts elated and exhausted, she leans back against baba’s chest.

Baba sits there with her, rocking a small ball of flame back and forth across her fingers. “You must not be afraid of it, little spark. Fire destroys, but fire is also warmth, also life.”

Asami is smiling as she drifts off to sleep.

Asami is five.

She’s rifling through the drawers in her father’s study looking for the box of nice pencils he keeps there when she hears voices on the other side of the screen. She ducks under the desk hoping not to get caught again, especially as her father’s been in a foul mood ever since baba’s visit a week prior.

The screen slides open and she recognizes the voices of not just her father but her mother as well. She stifles a groan—now she’s really done for if she gets caught.

She does her best to stay completely still, not making a sound. They’ve stopped in the middle of the room, they’re close enough that Asami can hear every word through the thin wood of the desk.

“That’s the last time. I’ve tolerated her poisonous words for long enough, she’s no longer welcome here.”

Her mother speaks in a tone Asami has never heard before, low and dripping with barely concealed anger. “And I get no say in this? She’s my mother!”

“This is my house!” He snaps. “Do you know what she said to me before leaving? She told me I was little better than a consolation prize, that eventually you would come to your senses and realize the depth of your mistake.”

"We've been over this. You know that's not true." Yasuko’s voice wavers.

Hiroshi continues to rage. “Are you so blind to her manipulations? Can’t you see that she’s trying to drive a wedge between us?"

Yasuko replies in the clipped tones of cold fury. "My mother is many things, most of them devious, but she still has lines she won’t cross. Manipulating the people she cares about is one of them, her own childhood taught her that.”

Her father responds with derision. "Forgive me if I’m not convinced.”

Asami can hear the hardness in her mother's voice. “If you thought even half as highly of me as you claim to, you wouldn’t need convincing. Believe me when I say that’s not her intention. For one thing, she knows I’d catch her if she tried, just as she knows I would never forgive her for it.”

Hiroshi laughs mirthlessly at her. “I told her she was wrong about you, and do you know what she did? She laughed at me. She laughed at me! When I accused her of trying to turn you against me, she said she didn't need to. She just gave me one of those horrible grins and told me that she was perfectly happy to sit back and watch while regret did its work.”

Her mother snorts dismissively. “You of all people should know by now not to take her barbs seriously.”

There is a long pause before her father speaks again, softer and more vulnerable than before. “Do you regret it? Choosing me?”

Her mother sighs heavily. “She wasn’t there, you were.”

She can hear her mother’s voice cracking, she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. A knot forms in the back of Asami’s throat.

“And I—I did love you, I fell in love with you. And we were happy, I was happy.” Her mother’s voice seems to catch as she speaks. “But these last few years... you’ve been so cold. You don’t seem to see me for myself anymore. The way you show me off at functions, it’s like I’m just some object to you. I’m not your possession, Hiroshi, and I don’t want to be.”

Her father responds with incredulous rage. “I’ve given you everything I have, how is that not enough for you?”

Yasuko bites back sharply. “Did you ever think to ask me what I wanted? I’m grateful for everything you’ve given me, but it’s not what I want, or even what I need. She at least understands that.”

“Then what’s stopping you? Go be with your metalbender whore!”

She hears the sharp slap of a hand against flesh, and the divider slams open as her mother storms out. Her father calls out after her.

“Yasuko wait, please, I’m sorry!”

“Yasuko!”

She stays frozen under the desk, still reeling from what she’s heard when her mother finds her there hours later. Asami pulls her knees tighter, but her mother just crouches down and reaches out her hand. She looks like she’s been crying.

“You must be hungry, why don’t we go get some food and talk?”

Asami shakes her head violently and curls in on herself.

Her mother sighs. “You heard everything, didn’t you?”

She looks down at her feet, feeling somehow guilty for the sadness now coloring her mother’s face. But Yasuko just reaches out and turns Asami’s face towards hers.

“None of this is your fault, my love.” The look she gives her is one of total certainty.

Yasuko pulls her close and looks her in the eyes. “I want you to always remember what I am about to tell you. Not once have I ever regretted having you, not for a single second. You are the light of my life, my little spark, and I love you more than anything in this world.”

Asami launches herself into her mother’s arms and cries as she rocks her back and forth.

Held in her mother’s embrace, Asami’s fear evaporates, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. She listens to the gentle hum of Yasuko’s chest as she drifts off to sleep.

Asami is five and a half.

A flash of light throws her room into vivid relief and thunder rattles the panes of her window, startling her awake. She slips from her bed and rubs her eyes as she stumbles down the hall to her mother’s room.

As she’s done a hundred times before, she slides the divider open and crawls up onto her mother’s bed, only to find a woman with a frightening scar curled around her mother’s side. She yelps in surprise and crashes off the bed, waking both of its occupants.

Her mother rises and pulls on a robe before bending down and wrapping her in her arms. Asami can feel her mother’s heart pounding in her chest. “Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

Asami looks up, wide-eyed and on the verge of tears. “The thunder was scary, I couldn’t sleep.”

Yasuko cradles her, rocking back and forth. “Oh, my darling, it’s all right. The storm can’t hurt you.”

Asami looks again at the bed, where the strange woman is now sitting awkwardly, wrapped in a sheet. It takes her a moment, but she finally recognizes her face.

“Mama, why is Auntie Lin in bed with you?”

There’s a strangled noise from the bed and her mother smiles even as her shoulders tense and her eyes widen. “Mama was having a hard time sleeping too. Auntie Lin came by to comfort me.”

Asami looks at her, confusion plain on her face. “If you’re scared, why doesn’t papa come?”

Her mother closes her eyes and takes a very deep breath before turning back to her. “Papa’s very busy with a lot of other things right now. I don’t want him worrying about me too.”

Her mother’s face twists in uncertainty mingled with something she vaguely recognizes as guilt. “Let’s not tell him anything that will make him worry, okay?”

The look her mother gives her is almost pleading. Asami frowns, but eventually nods in agreement. She can’t help but notice as both women let out sighs of relief.

Her mother rubs her back gently, and Asami begins to nod off again. “Why don’t we get you back to bed?”

Asami mumbles in agreement, not leaving her place on Yasuko’s shoulder.

The scarred woman gets up from the bed, pulling the sheet with her. Before she disappears behind the screen, she shares a long look with Asami's mother. She opens her mouth to speak but turns away instead, closing her eyes.

Yasuko spares one last glance behind her before she lifts Asami in her arms and carries her back to her room. By the time they get there she’s already on the verge of sleep, her mother gently tucks the covers around her small form and slides the screen shut behind her.

Asami has just turned six.

It’s the final day of the Lantern Festival, and her father has prepared a lavish celebration. Drum dancers perform in the grand pavilion in the center of the gardens, and thousands of small paper lanterns have been suspended on wires overhead, bathing the entire space in a yellow glow.

The gardens thrum with energy and idle chatter, the entirety of Republic City high society has turned out for the occasion. Asami sticks close to her mother, holding her hand as they shuffle from group to group and occasionally miming the appropriate responses when adults comment on the “fine young lady” she’s becoming or compliment her clothes. Her obi is a dark red, under the light of the lanterns it appears nearly black. Hiroshi had tried to cajole her into something brighter and more festive, but her mother defended Asami’s choice, even if it is a bit somber for the occasion.

Eventually the brightness and noise become too much for her—the sounds of kachi-kachi fade into the distance as she shrinks away deeper into the garden. She ducks out past the gate and winds her way down to the old shed at the foot of the hill. The door creaks open past dusty bags of soil and rusted implements cluttering the walls. The center of the shed has been cleared where an old oil lantern hangs above a rickety little chabudai.

Its surface is littered with drawings, the fanciful machines and mechanisms that come to her in her dreams. The skeleton of a radio sits in one corner, evidence of an almost compulsive need to analyze everything around her. It’s easier to understand how machines work than people, at least.

Someone raps at the door behind her, and Asami is so startled that she nearly overturns the chabudai, sending her papers skittering across the ground. She opens it to find baba standing outside, carrying a small basket filled with mochi and a long box wrapped in dark blue silk.

“Hello my sapling, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

She shakes her head wordlessly and gestures for baba to come in. Asami scrambles to find something for baba to sit on, but the old woman just plops down onto the packed earth and motions for Asami to join her.

Baba passes her the box wrapped in silk, and Asami opens it to find a small yoroi-dōshi. She’s surprised and slightly confused, but baba smiles at her and motions for her to pick it up. She lifts it from the box and unsheathes it. The blade is unusually short but carefully balanced, made of a metal as black as night and honed to an impossibly sharp edge—the barest touch draws an ugly little gash on her finger.

She notices a small button inlaid at the very end of the hilt. It’s carved from a mottled deep blue stone streaked with tiny specks of gold, on it two dragons circle each other, forever intertwining.

Asami has no idea what to say. Baba just rests her hands over hers and gives her a knowing grin. “This is for you, my dear. I made it many years ago when I went to study with a legendary swordmaster. He was a wise but difficult man, living alone with his partner in a castle overlooking the sea. Can you make out the inscription on the blade?”

Asami’s lips thin in concentration as she tries to parse the characters written in the strange birdlike script of the Fire Sages.

“A free woman thinks of death least of all things.”

She looks to baba for confirmation, who nods. “What does it mean?”

Baba smiles sadly at her, skin wrinkling at the corners of her mouth. “You will understand someday my sapling, but I hope not for a long time.”

Overcome with emotion, Asami hugs her tightly, even as she feels the old woman stiffen under the unexpected contact.

(She does not yet know it, but it will be twelve and a half years before she sees her baba again.)

Asami is six and a half when her world collapses beneath her, and all she can hear is screaming amidst gales of orange fire.

Asami is twelve, and her life has become little more than a series of repetitive motions.

The house has been horribly silent in the years since her mother’s death. Her father is rarely home, spending weekdays and weekends alike at the office or in one of their many factories. When he does return to the house, he does so late at night and leaves before dawn the next morning.

She sees him only during shared meals, and even those are infrequent. The only times she leaves the estate are for the social functions he insists they still attend. So they go, and he schmoozes and laughs and slaps old friends on the back as if their world hadn’t collapsed in on itself. His mask is nearly flawless—nobody but her can see the cracks growing slowly underneath it.

She too learns to employ that false conviviality. She smiles and gossips and shares in their tittering laughter. She discovers how to present herself in order to keep the uncomfortable questions at bay, and she can almost pretend that this is normal. She is barely twelve years old, and she already understands how to wear herself like a mask.

The loneliness only gets worse as the years pass, her days now occupied by an endless series of lessons. Her father is terrified at the idea of sending her away for a formal education, and so elects instead to hire tutors in every subject imaginable—composition, spirituality, history, philosophy, mathematics, mechanics, physics… Even as she excels at nearly all of it, she finds that none of it brings her anything like the happiness she once felt.

The one exception is her self-defense training. Her father is insistent that she be able to defend herself, and so she trains. She learns the traditional martial arts of the Fire Nation and street fighting tactics from an old man who claims to have fought in the Red Spring, qì blocking from a retired Kyoshi Warrior, and how to handle knives from a sparring partner of the late Fire Lady. (If the numerous small scars covering her instructor’s body are any indication, Lady Mai’s skill must have made even the most outlandish rumors seem watered-down.)

It’s a cold night in the middle of winter, and it’s been a week since she’s seen her father or spoken to anyone who wasn’t a servant or one of her instructors. Waking from yet another nightmare, she pulls back the screen to her room, shivering under her nightgown as she steps out onto the balcony. She lowers herself onto the stone and sits in lotus position, closing her eyes. She tries to remember the warmth she once felt here, how it grew and spread within her, power and joy all at once. She wills herself to think of fire as life, pushing away memories of screaming and the smell of burning flesh.

She breathes deeply over and over again just as baba once taught her, but there’s nothing. No warmth, no spark, nothing but the ache of cold air in her lungs and the stiffness in her muscles from hours spent sitting still. It’s been five years since her mother died, but she’s never felt as completely empty as she does in this moment.

She returns to her room, buries her face in the bed, and cries.

Asami is fourteen before she finally gathers the courage to enter her mother’s chambers again. She slides the screen open and chokes on the dust kicked up in its wake.

Her father had forbidden the servants entrance. At first she thinks it’s because he’s desperate to preserve any trace of her, but she’s begun to realize it’s just as much about the memories contained within and his inability to confront them.

She makes her way over to her mother’s vanity and opens the small box atop it. She pulls out a hairpiece, one she knows her mother only ever wore when baba came to visit. It’s a thin spike of pale green jade, the form of a dragon emerging from its smooth tip, only to curl in upon itself at the opposite end. She goes to put it back but hesitates, instead sliding it into the inner pocket of her robes.

Eventually she makes her way towards the bedroom, taking in a deep breath as she slides back the divider. Her mother’s bed is still laid out, sheets rumpled under an omnipresent sheen of dust. She chokes, and forces herself to turn away. She’s overcome with a rush of unwanted memories, and she stumbles as she sits on the chest at the end of the bed.

She looks down at the chest and tests the latch, only to find it locked. Almost reflexively, she pulls a hairpin from her head and inserts it into the mechanism. Part of her screams that she’s violating something sacred, but she’s unable to stop herself; her fingers move of their own accord. By now she’s had many years of practice at picking locks, and it’s only minutes before the latch clicks open.

The first thing she sees is her mother’s shiromuku, now faded to a light yellow. She gently lifts it aside to find piles of paper below it—sketches of early satomobiles, her father’s clumsy attempts at water paintings, and dozens upon dozens of drawings she recognizes as her own, the wobbly and enthusiastic lines scrawlings of a toddler mixed in with the fanciful machines she began to draw as she got older.

She remembers her mother’s smile each time she brought one to her, the pride she felt when her mother had laughed and called her “my little engineer.” And her mother had kept them all.

Pushing past the tightness in her chest and wiping her eyes, she gingerly lifts the entire stack and sets it to the side.

The bottom of the chest is separated into three compartments, the largest occupied by a worn cherrywood box. She lifts it out and runs her fingers along its sides until she eventually finds the latch hidden behind a sliding piece of wood and the lid clicks open.

At first she’s disappointed—the box contains only a small stack of letters, all unmarked save for a date written on the corner of each letter in her mother’s hand. She opens the letter at the top of the stack, dated only weeks before her mother’s death.

I woke up again this morning in an empty bed, hollow with longing. I pictured you lying here next to me, your hazy smile as you rouse yourself from sleep.

I’m sick of this. I miss your touch, the sounds you make when it’s only the two of us together. I miss being able to hold you, to smile at you openly without fear or shame.

We can take the girls and leave, make a new life for ourselves far away from all of this. I have a friend who owes me a favor in Ba Sing Se, she's a private investigator of sorts who offered me a job long ago. We could set ourselves up there and rent a little flat in the middle ring, just the four of us together as a family.

Tenzin won’t be happy, but it’s been years since we’ve been together and I no longer give a damn. I’ve come to hate him for what he’s turning Tsomo into, but I feel powerless to stop it. I want to take her away from here, but I can’t do it alone.

I’m tired of waiting. I know how selfish it is of me to ask, but I think some part of you wants this as much as I do. I love you, and I can’t imagine a life without you. So come to me, come be with me.

Forever yours,
Lin

Asami stares at the letter, unable to look away. She feels lightheaded, the room seems to twist around her. She recalls a night and a thunderstorm from long ago, and feels a flush of rage as the pieces fall into place. How could she?

She reads the words again, and the anger slips away from her. She remembers the way her mother hesitated whenever her father touched her, that strange sadness that sometimes seemed to lurk under her smile. Looking down at the letter, she sees small blotches where the ink has run and realizes that her tears are not the first to stain its sheets.

She feels numb, and wonders if she ever really knew her mother.

She curls in on herself and rocks quietly back and forth, waiting for tears that don’t come. A servant finds her in the morning, the letter clutched to her chest. She finds herself unable to look at it again, but she can’t bring herself to destroy it.

She buries it along with her feelings, hidden away beneath a stack of drawings on the shelf in her workshop.

Asami is fifteen when she takes a position as a junior designer in Future Industry’s engineering division. The work is exciting, she’s tasked with designing stabilizers for their new fleet of airships. It’s hard at first, and her coworkers are leery at best and dismissive at worst.

Any accusations of nepotism disappear when she presents her first round of designs. Even Ling, the division director who’s been chilly and standoffish towards her ever since she started, grumbles and admits that it’s brilliant work.

She comes to understand her father’s absences—work is an incredibly effective analgesic. One day he comes to her office unannounced, she walks in to find him flipping through the designs on her desk with an almost boyish grin on his face.

He looks up at her with pride in his eyes. “These are fantastic, sweetheart.“

She offers him tea and they sit down and discuss everything she’s been working on. He’s smiling the entire time, offering small suggestions and occasionally exclaiming over her solutions to various problems.

Before either of them realize it the sun has set, and the rest of the team has long since gone home.

“I don’t think I’ve said this enough, but I’m so enormously proud of you.”

His praise is earnest and entirely genuine, and it makes her stammer in thanks.

He looks at her with affection tinged with grief. “Your mother was always the visionary, I just figured out how to make her plans a reality.” She opens her mouth to chide him for not giving himself enough credit, but he cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “But you my daughter, you have the best of both of us. You’re so young, and you’re already doing work that surpasses designers who have worked here for decades. She would be so proud of you.”

Overwhelmed, she begins to cry. Her father wraps her in a hug before collecting himself and rising to leave.

She doesn’t know what it is that makes her ask him. Perhaps it’s the moment of vulnerability they just shared, eroding away what’s left of her inhibitions. A question that’s been eating its way through her for years rises to the surface.

She looks at him hesitantly. “I need to ask you something.”

Her voice wavers, unsure of what to say, or if she should be saying it at all. “Did you know? That they were together, before the end, that is.”

Hiroshi looks away, and she’s filled with regret. He looks diminished somehow, small and bitter in a way that she’s never seen before.

The minutes stretch out in agonizing silence before he responds.

“Yes.”

It hadn’t been the answer she was expecting. She looks at him, fearing that anything she says now will only dredge up pain better left in memory.

She tries to compose herself and think of something, anything to say, but her father stills her with a wave of his hand. “I know she never loved me the way that she loved her, and that’s a pain that I will always have to carry. But I know that she did love me, and that for a time we were happy. That is the part of her I choose to remember and keep with me.”

He reached out across the bench with tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and took her hand. “And I know that no matter how she felt about me, she never felt anything but love for you. She never regretted having you, and nothing could have ever made her give you up. If she could see you now she’d know, you were always her greatest accomplishment.”

It was as if a dam had collapsed within her—she slumped sideways into his shoulder, sobbing gently. He wrapped her in his arms, and she finally felt something like peace.

Asami is sixteen.

It’s the ceremony to mark her coming of age, and Hiroshi has thrown a grand ball in her honor. The room is filled with everyone who’s anyone, they circle her like vultures. She forces herself to smile through each introduction, knowing that to most of the people in this room she’s scarcely better than a piece of meat, a pretty face to be bartered for money and influence.

She looks across the hall just in time to see the blind airbender toss a drink in some poor boy’s face. He swings at her in retaliation and she laughs wildly, dodging his blow with all the uncanny grace of her element. The good councilman intervenes before things can escalate further, and the two of them disappear off to Agni knows where. Sometimes she dearly wishes she could have that girl’s lack of inhibition.

She ducks out early, eager to make it across town to a basement where she’s spent the last six months teaching the basics of qì blocking to anyone willing to learn. Lessons that started as a simple favor for a colleague’s daughter soon became a regular class with five students and now thirty, and it’s slowly transforming from simply a way to share techniques for self-defense into something bigger and more political.

To her immense surprise her father has given his full support to her little project. While she knows he’s been quietly supporting the plight of nonbenders in Republic City for years, she never expected him to approve of something quite so… active. But then again perhaps she shouldn't be so shocked, the fires of that night are never far from either of their minds.

And lately she’s had some ideas about how to level the playing field, ways to use electricity to stun opponents without causing permanent harm. Perhaps she can find a way to incorporate it into clothing, something a nonbender could wield almost like an extension of their own body. The irony of it all is not lost on her.

The night is cold, but she finds it no longer bothers her the way it once did.

Asami is eighteen.

The satocycle skids to a stop. Asami winces as she disentangles herself from it, further aggravating the shallow gashes on her hip and knee. She staggers upright and rips off her helmet, tossing it in the dirt. Cursing, she looks back over her shoulder to see a woman in green propping herself upright in the street.

Still flush with adrenaline, she strides over and kneels down at the woman’s side, hoping desperately that she’s not injured. But then the stranger looks up at her with brilliant blue eyes and a sheepish grin, and her worry seems to evaporate as she finds herself suddenly robbed of coherent thought.

The sharp crack of an explosion jolted Asami awake. She opened her eyes to a brilliant flash of blue light followed by the sound of wood splintering against stone. Lifting her head, she saw the smoldering remains of the door littering the sanctuary’s floor, the larger bits still flickering with patches of azure flame.

She stared at them, transfixed by a long-forgotten memory of flames dancing on fingertips. No, it can’t be.

Across from her, Lin pulled herself to her feet and turned back towards the entrance. The former chief’s mouth pulled into a thin smile and her eyes brightened in recognition. Asami tried to twist her head to follow Lin’s gaze, only to be stopped by an agonizing burst of pain from her shoulder.

To her surprise, Lin made no move to attack. She simply stood there, watching the intruder with the same strange look of regret she’d given Asami the day before.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

The newcomer didn’t respond. Asami’s gut tightened as she heard them move from the doorway and take a series of quick, sharp steps towards her. She glanced down at her yoroi-dōshi, set atop the clothes folded at the foot of her bedroll. If only she could reach it, or her glove…

The footsteps stopped as the intruder finally came into view, and Asami’s chest froze as she took in a very familiar set of golden eyes.

“Baba?”

Chapter Text

Lin groaned, pressing a hand to the back of her head to find a lump already forming. The floor around her was littered with the charred wreckage of what had once been the door to the sanctuary. She felt a burning sensation on her calf and quickly swatted a patch of flame that had migrated from a smoldering piece of timber to the hem of her pants.

Rising unsteadily to her feet, she winced at a sudden sharp pain in her hip. Damn it, that was going to bruise.

Lin looked over to the intruder only to see her worst fears confirmed.

She wore the black bone armor of a Fire Nation scout, her silver hair tied in a messy topknot. Her eyes were fixed on Asami’s motionless form on the bedroll nearby, and her hands twitched with rage as her gaze drifted over the mottled blue and green bruises completely covering the girl’s shoulder and chest.

The glint in her eyes was positively murderous—this was not Azula the prickly old woman. Standing before her was the bogeyman that haunted Lin’s bedtime stories as a child, a hellish creature of lightning and blue fire.

Lin thought back to the last time she had seen the former princess, twelve years ago in the morgue below police headquarters. Azula’s expression would forever burn in her memory—her eyes bloodshot and puffy with tears, her mouth contorted in an expression of gruesome rage. Lin froze as the surge of unwanted images threatened to overwhelm her. Loss and regret rose from the pit of her stomach, saturating her senses. A wave of nausea coursed through her, the smell of burning wood and singed fabric all too familiar.

The sound of debris crunching under boots brought Lin back to the present, she straightened and made a futile attempt to keep her inner turmoil from showing on her face. Tamping down her emotions, she forced those memories of her from her mind, swallowing hard as she reminded herself that this was neither the time nor the place.

She studied her opponent across the room, evaluating the threat. The older woman was radiating tension, her characteristic poise absent. She was positively twitching—this was not a good sign. Azula stood in a combat stance, her head forward and her arms raised in a loose circle with two fingers extended on one hand. Lin knew that pose. One wrong move and there would be a flash followed by a sharp crack, and she and half the room would be little more than rubble and ash suffused with the tang of ozone.

Despite the clear and present danger, Lin found herself oddly devoid of fear. She met Azula’s gaze with a bitter smile.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Azula regarded her for a moment before turning away, moving in two quick strides from the door to where Asami lay. She dropped down and knelt beside the bedroll, grasping the girl’s hand. Asami stirred briefly and rasped out a word Lin couldn’t make out before her head lolled back, eyes closed.

As soon as Asami closed her eyes, Azula’s attention snapped to Lin. Even in the low light, her eyes shone like liquid gold, fathomless reservoirs of unbridled fury.

“What happened?” Azula spat in a low, sharp tone of command. Lin winced and shifted her feet into a defensive stance almost on reflex. The tension between them seemed to sap all oxygen from the room, Lin found it hard to breathe.

She knew that if Azula found her answer unsatisfactory she’d have mere seconds to summon an earth shield in response. The woman before her was unquestionably the most powerful firebender alive, perhaps even the greatest since Avatar Yangchen. If she bore down on her, there would be very little Lin could do to hold her at bay.

Lin took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice even. “Tarrlok happened. Asami and her friend got ambushed by three of his men in Little Water Tribe yesterday afternoon.”

Azula’s expression remained unchanged, Lin chided herself for thinking she’d somehow be surprised. “But you already knew that.”

“The men who did it?” Azula demanded, her pitch rising.

“Dead, thanks to her… friend.”

Lin’s voice caught on the last word and she cursed below her breath. This situation was already bad enough, the last thing she needed was to let slip that the friend in question was none other than the spirits-forsaken Avatar. If that detail came out at the wrong moment, Lin wasn’t sure she could prevent Azula from attempting to go two for two. Given the stunt Korra had pulled, Lin could hardly fault her for trying.

A brief look of bitter satisfaction flashed across Azula’s face, only to be replaced by incredulous anger. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why is my granddaughter lying on some cot in an abandoned Fire Temple?”

Lin sighed, this whole situation was about to get very sticky. She set her shoulders and answered as honestly as she could.

“The fight with Tarrlok’s men went badly. She took a pair of hits that would have killed most people, there was no time to get her to a hospital. Asami would have died right there on the street if it hadn’t been for the fact that her friend is a waterbending healer with training in treating combat wounds.”

Azula blanched before quickly regaining her composure. “And this friend of hers, is she here?” Azula’s lip curled, Lin couldn’t tell if it was out of suspicion or distaste.

“She is.”

Lin thought about the bunker hastily bent into the wall behind her, and hoped she wasn’t about to make a monumental mistake.

The sun had long since set. Lin left Korra in the temple’s sanctuary, curled up asleep at Asami’s side. She entered the common room to find the rest of the group gathered around a low table where a pot of tea sat ignored, long since cold.

Kuvira was still fuming, muttering obscenities beneath her breath next to Ming-Hua. The two looked utterly exhausted, Kuvira from organizing their hasty flight to the temple and Ming-Hua from hours upon hours spent healing the poor girl.

Zaheer prattled aimlessly across from them, saying something about taking extra precautions now that Hiroshi Sato and the Equalists were sure to be hunting them. Lin scoffed—as if they were their main concern.

He glanced up at her in confusion. Her patience exhausted, Lin burst into mirthless laughter. “Sato and the Equalists are the least of our problems right now.”

Zaheer’s look of bemusement only deepened, and a wave of dread washed over Lin as she realized that they had absolutely no idea who they were dealing with.

“You really don’t know?” She stared at him, not bothering to hide her disdain. “That girl your idiot of a ward abducted? Her mother’s name was Yasuko.”

Zaheer remained impassive, patiently waiting for her to continue. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she saw a look of genuine fear cross Kuvira’s face. The former captain had clearly connected the dots. “Please tell me you don’t mean…”

“Yup, that Yasuko.” The taste of metal filled her mouth as she felt that name on her tongue for the first time in years.

Kuvira responded with a look of pure horror. “That means—"

“That yes, thanks to our resident hothead’s famed lack of impulse control, we can expect a visit from none other than Crazy Blue Fire herself!” Lin paused for emphasis as dread spread around the room. “Now, I want you to imagine just how she’ll react when she finds her only fucking granddaughter unconscious and covered in bruises.”

No one spoke. From their wide eyes and stony silence, perhaps they were finally beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation.

Lin took a deep breath and resisted the urge to scream at something. “News of Asami’s disappearance will get out by tomorrow morning, and Shu Jing is two hours from here by airship. Knowing her, that means we have roughly until sundown tomorrow. When she arrives—and she will arrive—everyone but me needs to be out of sight. I hope I don’t have to explain why.”

Azula released Asami’s hand and rose to her feet, circling towards Lin with the predatory grace of someone many decades younger. Even so, Lin could see a slight tremor in hands famed for near-inhuman control—such was the rage simmering under the surface.

Lin remained motionless, her face a mask worthy of Koh himself.

“She’s with Tsomo and six others on the other side of that wall. I had a hunch that you’d be stopping by and probably not in the mood to minimize collateral damage, so I took precautions.”

Azula raised an eyebrow and Lin almost laughed. “I’m going to bend the door open, and you’re not going to fry anyone until we’ve at least managed introductions, clear?”

“Perfectly.” Azula gave her a smile that was anything but reassuring.

Taking one final breath, Lin made a quick series of taps against the floor and the wall opened. A single figure emerged from the darkness. Azula tensed, but to Lin’s immense relief made no immediate move to attack.

Kuvira stepped forward into the light, moving with a fluid precision that belied the tension in her frame. To Lin’s surprise, Azula’s brow rose in recognition. As she watched them exchange looks of cold appraisal, Lin couldn’t help but notice just how much they resembled each other.

“Captain.”

Kuvira cocked an eyebrow. “Princess.”

“Former.” Azula corrected her with a hint of irritation.

“Likewise.” Kuvira replied with the barest smile.

Azula’s mouth twitched, hiding her surprise at that new bit of information. Lin had no doubt that she was quietly filing it away for later use.

Before their exchange could continue, Tsomo appeared behind Kuvira and gave Azula a familiar wave. True to form, she completely ignored the tension suffusing the room. “Auntie! Long time no see.”

To Lin’s relief, Azula seemed to relax at Tsomo’s insouciance and just rolled her eyes. “You’re taller than the last time I saw you, but I see your jokes haven’t improved.”

Azula’s smile vanished as quickly as it had come, and she snapped back into a combat stance as P’Li and Nazra stepped out, trailed by the rest of the Red Lotus. Whatever tension Tsomo had dissipated returned tenfold as Azula stiffened at the sight of the two combustionbenders.

Zaheer moved forward, keeping his hands visible. He turned towards Azula and bent in keirei, though he kept his eyes fixed on hers. “The Tailor of Caldera, it’s a pleasure.”

Azula’s eyes darted between the five, her stance easing as comprehension dawned across her face. To Lin’s surprise, she laughed.

“Well well, Special Circumstances in the flesh! This explains a few things.”

From the corner of her vision, Lin saw a ripple pass down Ming-Hua’s tendrils and the muscle in P’Li’s neck relax almost imperceptibly.

Azula turned her attention from the newcomers back towards the door behind them. “And the eighth person in your little crew? I take it the armless waterbender is not the friend in question.”

Lin replied before anyone else had the chance to say something stupid. “No, that would be Korra.”

Almost on cue, the Avatar stepped out into the sanctuary, walking up to take a position next to Kuvira and Tsomo.

Azula gazed at her with suspicion for a long moment before something seemed to click, and the old woman’s mouth twisted in a bitter approximation of a grin.

“Agni be damned. Long time no see, Avatar.”

Korra shuffled on her feet, looking vaguely sheepish. “Um, hi.”

Azula gave her a hard look and fear briefly flashed behind Korra’s eyes, only for her to glance upward in irritation. Korra mumbled something under her breath.

Azula eyed her appraisingly. “I take it your predecessor isn’t thrilled at my presence?”

Oblivious to the apprehension of everyone around her, Korra rolled her eyes. “Aang and I don’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

Azula cocked an eyebrow. “Finally, an Avatar with some sense.”

A rustling noise behind her disrupted whatever Azula was about to say next. She gave a long, wary glance at the assembled crowd and hesitated for only a moment before turning back to the bedroll where Asami was stirring. Asami opened her eyes, blinking away crusted sleep. Pain distorted her features as she took a deep, halting breath.

“What’s h–happening?” She rasped.

Asami’s face was devoid of color and glistening with sweat; Azula carefully brushed away the strands of hair that had stuck to her brow. “Hello, sapling.”

“Baba?” Asami croaked.

Azula looked at her with a gentle smile, one that Lin couldn’t help but find deeply unsettling given that this was well, Azula…

“Yes, darling. I’m not going anywhere, and no one’s going to hurt you again.”

Asami smiled weakly back at her, and Lin’s neck prickled with the feeling that they were intruding upon a private moment between the two.

Seemingly unable to take a hint, Zaheer cleared his throat gently. “Might I suggest we find somewhere more suitable to speak, perhaps over tea?”

Azula’s head snapped up—the look she gave him had once made grown men wet themselves on the battlefield.

“If you think I’m leaving her side even for a moment you're a fool, and if you try anything I will burn you where you stand.”

Lin forced herself to suppress a smile. Now that was the Azula she knew. Zaheer blanched, backpedalling wildly. “Of course, we can remain here and talk if that will be acceptable to you. I shall go and fetch tea and some cushions. Lin, would you be so kind as to bend us a table?”

Lin looked at him incredulously. How was he not dead? Still, she managed a stiff nod. As if waiting for Lin’s cue, Azula nodded as well.

Zaheer returned moments later with a large pot and a number of mismatched cups, and the group sat awkwardly around the low platform that Lin had raised from the floor. He poured Azula tea, taking a sip before offering the cup to her. Lin stifled a laugh as she watched Azula’s germaphobia war with her paranoia.

“A food taster as well… is there anything your little group can’t do?” She bit out sarcastically, giving the cup a disdainful sniff before drinking from it.

(Azula was begrudgingly forced to admit that it was in fact very nice tea.)

“How did you even find us here?” Korra looked at her with something between guilt and hesitant awe.

Azula laughed. “My dear, you do know that I’m not merely the Fire Lord's tailor.”

Korra looked confused, and Azula declined to elaborate.

She clasped her hands in front of her, glancing at each member of the group in turn. “Now, if we are done with formalities and stupid questions, I would very much appreciate an explanation as to why my granddaughter is convalescing at an abandoned Fire Temple in the company of the Avatar, a disgraced police chief, the second-to-last airbender, the erstwhile captain of Zaofu’s guard, and a band of revolutionaries.”

Zaheer took a deep breath and began to speak, he gave Azula the same tired spiel about finding an airbending master for the Avatar that he’d once given Lin—as if a story that had failed miserably to convince her would somehow work on Azula of all people. Lin didn’t fail to notice the way Azula’s golden irises twitched at certain parts, silently cataloguing inconsistencies and probable omissions.

As she’d expected, Zaheer had barely finished his tale when Azula began laughing at him.

“Come now, I was a better liar when I was six.” Azula leaned forward, raising an eyebrow as the skin around her mouth wrinkled. “Let me guess, and please do stop me if I’m wrong… you’re here to assassinate Tarrlok, co-opt the Equalists, abolish the Council, and put the Kuro Hata in power.”

Tsomo snorted and Nazra elbowed her in the side. Lin just shook her head in silent laughter.

Zaheer just sputtered slightly, while Azula looked decidedly unimpressed. “It won’t work. Even if you do succeed, the Earth Kingdom will never tolerate a second Zaofu. Hou-Ting will invade under the guise of ‘restoring order,’ and your little experiment will be over before it's even begun.”

Surprisingly, it was Ghazan who spoke up in response. “There might be another way. I’ve been doing some reconnaissance and it looks like we were right about Sato, he’s building the Equalists an army. Tanks, mecha, airships, flying machines, you name it, they’ve got it in the hundreds. We just need a way to make them work for us.”

Azula scoffed. “My idiot son-in-law is too busy groveling at the feet of a two-bit stage actor to actually do something useful.”

Lin heard Asami groan behind her, though it was hard to tell if she was agreeing with or objecting to Azula’s judgement.

“Then we’ll just need someone else to lead them.” Zaheer glanced at the prone form of Asami as he spoke. Lin reminded herself to breathe and tried to ignore the angry twitch in her jaw. Was the fool trying to get flayed alive?

The insinuation was not lost on Azula, and she glowered in response. “Forgive me, given your reputation I had somehow expected you not to be complete idiots. You do realize that having the granddaughter of the woman who conquered Ba Sing Se lead a revolution overthrowing an ally of the Earth Queen in what were once Fire Nation colonies will not be conducive to peace?”

Lin suspected there was a much more mundane reason why Azula was so adamantly against Asami’s involvement, especially given the way she was gripping the girl’s hand at her side. Judging by her knowing glance, P’Li thought the same.

Azula took a breath and then continued, her voice sharp and level. “None of this is going to work. If you want to resolve this without significant bloodshed, the Avatar herself must be seen to intervene, publicly. It’s the only show of power that Hou-Ting won’t be able to ignore.”

Zaheer furrowed his brow in response, making a poor show of hiding his own uncertainty. “It’s not so simple as that. You must know the White Lotus are still hunting us. Exposing Korra would be an unacceptable risk.”

Lin groaned inwardly at Zaheer. For a man who was supposedly a master tactician, he was surprisingly hesitant to act.

Azula’s made her own growing frustration considerably more obvious. “So you plan to do what? Wait around while Tarrlok abducts more Water Tribe girls until he gets lucky again? All you’ve managed to do so far is put the Avatar in even more danger by allowing the enemy to dictate the terms of engagement. Stop stalling and take control!”

“Tarrlok WHAT?”

All heads immediately turned toward Korra, her eyes wide and mouth open in shock. Lin’s gaze travelled to her fists, Korra had unconsciously sunk them straight through the table.

Azula’s face shifted into a smirk. “They didn’t tell you? Tarrlok’s been after you since that Equalist rally months ago, he’s taken to plucking anyone who resembles you right off the street.”

Korra’s shoulders clenched and her face contorted in rage.

Azula continued blithely, though Lin suspected she knew exactly what she was doing. “Now that he knows you’re not among them, he’ll have no further use for them. If they’re not dead already, they will be.”

Korra jumped to her feet with a snarl, and Lin briefly worried that she was going to attack the old woman. But Korra turned away from her instead, facing the entire group.

“Is it true?” She looked to Zaheer, who lowered his eyes.

“It is, isn’t it.” Korra stared down at him, her eyes clouding. “And you didn’t tell me.” The pain in her voice was obvious, she looked as though she was teetering on a precipice, ready to either explode or collapse inward upon herself.

“We didn’t want you to feel responsible—” Zaheer sputtered.

Korra screamed, and the floor beneath them shuddered. Korra’s left hand lit up in flame and the cap of her waterskin popped. Lin noticed Azula suppress a flinch.

When she spoke again, her voice seemed deeper, harsher somehow. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m going to go get them, and none of you are going to stop me.”

Zaheer raised his hands. “Korra—”

“NO! I’m not going to do nothing and let them die, they’re there because of me!” She snapped, panic seeping in at the edges of her voice. “You can either help me, or you can get the fuck out of my way.” Korra positively seethed, heat radiated from her core in waves causing the air around her to ripple and shimmer.

P’Li shifted as if to stand, but Zaheer stopped her with a look and a small shake of his head. It was moments like these that reminded Lin that the girl in front of her truly was the Avatar, a being possessed of power well beyond their comprehension. She doubted they could subdue her even if they tried. The moment stretched out in silence, no one willing to risk becoming the focus of the Avatar’s renewed fury.

So it was to the shock of everyone in the room when Kuvira rose from her seat and moved to stand at Korra’s side.

“Someone’s got to keep you from getting yourself killed,” she said, giving Korra a half-smirk before turning back towards the rest as if threatening them to challenge her. “I’m not going to stand by and watch this time.”

The tension seemed to break, and the room let out a collective breath. Lin looked back and forth between the two and sighed, resigning herself to this lunacy. “You idiots don’t even know where to go, I do. So let’s get on with it then.”

Tsomo twisted towards her as she stood, fear plain on her face. Lin felt a twinge of guilt, but she wasn’t about to reconsider. If she’d been faster or more clever perhaps those girls wouldn’t be in this mess.

“I’ll be okay, kid.” She looked back at her daughter, hoping the rhythm of her breath didn’t betray the lie.

“You better,” Tsomo muttered. Lin understood that it was as much a threat as a demand.

“What the hell? Liberate the prisoners, do some property damage, I’m in.” Ghazan added as he stood as well, giving Korra a grin that was more bluster than anything else. Lin could see the concern in his eyes.

P’Li was the last to rise. She gave Korra a long piercing look, her lips turned in something that could almost be a smile. “You know full well what I do to people who harm children.”

Nazra moved to join them, only for Zaheer to put his hands on her shoulders. Zaheer glanced at P’Li as he spoke to her. “Now is not the time, and we are needed here if anything goes awry.” Nazra glowered and seemed fully prepared to challenge him, but the sound of coughing interrupted them both.

Asami winced in pain as she attempted to speak, and Azula once again shifted closer to her side. She leaned in to allow Asami to whisper something in her ear.

Azula lifted her head from Asami’s side and shot a wary glance at Korra. “She wants to talk to you.”

Korra couldn’t hide the hesitancy with which she approached the other girl. She bent down, and Lin watched as Asami met Korra’s eyes with a look of cold resolve. It was a sharp, burning clarity, so painfully like that of her mother’s. Lin forced herself to look away.

Behind her she could just barely make out Asami’s rasp, her voice diminished to little more than a whisper. “Tarrlok has my people as well. Free them for me, please."

Korra’s voice was shaky but resolved. “I will.”

Azula looked at her and sighed almost theatrically. “Honorable fools, the lot of you. For some reason you people never seem to understand that ‘get there, improvise somehow’ doesn’t constitute a plan. Which—and I know this must come as a shock—is something you do actually need if you want to do anything besides pointlessly martyr yourselves.”

Azula seemed to consider something for a moment before she rolled her eyes, muttering to herself.

“I’m going to regret this.”

She dismissed Korra with a tilt of her head before turning to Kuvira. “Go to the laundromat on the corner of Yining and 53rd Street, alone. Tell the man with a mole on his left cheek that you are the tailor’s new assistant and that you’re there to pick up Aunt Wu’s ruqun for mending. He will provide you with whatever information you need.”

Kuvira gave her a small nod in acknowledgement. Azula’s posture relaxed slightly, as if resigned to this foolishness. “My granddaughter apparently owes you her life, so consider this a small gesture of gratitude. If nothing else, it will make your chosen manner of suicide more interesting.”

Chapter Text

It was a dreadfully dull evening and Toru was in a foul mood. He’d woken in the early afternoon with a twinging pain below the old scar on his flank, no doubt exacerbated by the weather. Late autumn in Republic City was always miserably cold and damp, so unlike the breezy warmth of Shu Jing. Even after sixteen years he still wasn’t used to it.

He sighed and pushed another stitch through the hem of the blouse. What he really needed was a good spar to calm his nerves, but at least this gave him something to do with his hands. The laundry was empty now save for a tired-looking young mother and her toddler waiting on the bench by the window, and they were thankfully in no mood to chat.

Still, he supposed this was better than being at home and having to endure his husband’s anxious fretting. Liu Ren had been in a state ever since Toru had returned home that morning with his hands shaking and the collar of his shirt singed.

Not that he could really blame him. While he was admittedly much better at hiding it, Toru was feeling no small degree of panic himself. It wasn’t every night that the head of the Kitsunebi herself showed up unannounced at his laundry barely forty solar degrees past midnight.

Toru had to suppress a shiver at the memory. Her eyes incandescent with rage, she’d melted the lock on the door, not bothering with protocol as she grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him after her into the back and down the stairs hidden behind the garment press. Toru shuddered. If she was this terrifying in her eighties, he could scarcely imagine what she was like in her prime.

The visit couldn’t have lasted more than a handful of degrees, but it felt like hundreds as she tore through every scrap of intelligence they’d managed to collect on the Sato girl’s disappearance. Not that there had been very much of it—just a handful of vague and contradictory witness statements and a report of a stolen Task Force van that had been spotted leaving the city.

She’d only seemed to grow more agitated as she read, muttering vague threats under her breath. It was a far cry from the preternaturally cool and composed woman who had recruited him nearly a decade prior. She seemed to have forgotten his presence entirely until he thought to mention a strange call he’d received from one of his acquaintances, a Fire Sage at the city’s temple.

The man had been in the temple’s sanctuary earlier that night when he’d witnessed an unusual omen in Agni’s flame. According to the Sage it had surged unexpectedly, turning a bright azure so hot it blackened and blistered the eaves above. Such a thing could only be the sign of a powerful spirit visiting a temple nearby, but when Toru checked he found that there had been no strange occurrences at any of the city’s other temples that night.

Azula went completely still for a moment, causing Toru a moment of panic. Abruptly, she jumped to her feet and dashed to one of the filing cabinets, ripping out a map of old Yu Dao. She scanned it intently for a fraction of a degree before her eyes grew wide and she let out a sharp “Hah!”

She made no effort to explain herself before she bolted back up the stairs, leaving without another word.

Toru was still unable to imagine how an odd omen at a Fire Temple could be connected with the disappearance of a nonbender girl, but then again, he thought, perhaps that’s why he ran a single field office and not the entirety of Fire Nation intelligence.

That had been nearly a full day ago now, and yet he’d still heard nothing. Which was all the more alarmed considering the reports he’d been presented when he arrived back at the office earlier that evening.

Both Tarrlok’s forces and the Equalists’ were in a frenzy—in less than two days their activity had nearly doubled. Tarrlok was out for blood after the very public deaths of three of his men. He’d recalled the majority of his forces back into the city to do door-to-door sweeps in Little Water Tribe and the surrounding boroughs. They were proceeding with their customary brutality, and the Kuro Hata was responding in kind. If something didn’t give, half the city would be up in flames by morning.

The Equalists were only adding to the conflagration. According to his source in the Sato Manor, Amon had made it his personal mission to locate the missing Sato girl before Tarrlok could get his hands on her. Toru had a hard time faulting his motives—if his source was to be believed, she was (or had been) one of his top lieutenants.

The bell above the door rang, shaking Toru from his thoughts. A young woman in a long forest green cloak stepped inside. Toru tensed reflexively—her bearing was unmistakably military, and the way she held her arms loose at her sides meant she was expecting trouble. Dai Li perhaps? Not likely, they would never be so crude as to threaten the Kitsunebi directly like this. But then who?

The visitor strode up to the counter, lowering her hood as she did so. Toru recognized her almost immediately, and it was only decades of training that allowed him to hide his shock. That face was unmistakable—before him stood Kuvira, Captain of Zaofu’s City Guard. What in Agni’s name was she doing here?

Maintaining protocol, he forced a look of bored disdain. “Is there something I can do for you? It’s terribly late for a girl such as yourself to be out alone.”

The captain just quirked an eyebrow. “Apologies for troubling you at this late hour, I’m the tailor’s new assistant. I’m here to pick up Aunt Wu’s ruqun for mending.”

If Toru had been even a slightly less disciplined man, his mouth would have been agape in shock. The code phrase Kuvira had just delivered was so improbable it bordered on nonsensical, and if her expression was any indication, she didn’t even realize it.

It had been nearly eighteen years since he’d heard the codeword Aunt Wu uttered in earnest. It meant one thing and one thing alone, the Avatar. Which made the rest of the code phrase all the more shocking. Ruqun for mending was the code for an ally in need of assistance, which meant that not only was the Avatar herself somehow alive, but she was now actively working with them.

Toru’s mind boggled. How in the blessed name of Agni…

Oh, who am I kidding… it’s Azula.

Toru looked at Kuvira and swallowed once before replying. “Naturally. I have it in the back somewhere, would you care to follow me?”

He opened the divider and ushered her through. The captain was predictably reluctant to lead the way, but Toru’s body language was insistent—code phrase aside, he still had no idea what her intentions were or if she had ulterior allegiances, and he wasn’t about to show his back to her.

They ducked under the curtain and past the seamstresses’ table where one of his younger operatives sat embroidering the hem of a dudou. Kita gave him a wary look and twisted her hand with her palm up and thumb in. Hostile?

He returned the gesture, now with his palm down and his first two fingers curled. Known associate, urgent business, allow no one through.

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod before standing and departing through the curtain. He caught fragments of muffled conversation followed by footsteps, and then heard the door to the laundry close and lock.

Toru led their guest back past the steamers to a garment press on the far wall. He leaned against it, and the entire station slid aside with an unpleasant creak. Wincing, he made a mental note to have Kita oil the tracks at the next opportunity. Behind it was a staircase leading down to a featureless steel door. The captain glanced at it and eyed him warily. He was forced to concede, allowing her to follow him down the steps. He knocked thrice and the slide opened.

“The tailor’s assistant is here, she’s to pick up Aunt Wu’s ruqun for mending.”

The pair of brown eyes went wide and the door opened to allow them inside. Toru nodded once to the operative—Junko, his second in command—and strode into the cramped office, a messy quartet of desks surrounded on all sides by filing cabinets and photographic equipment in various stages of disrepair. Two large platinum safes occupied the wall opposite them.

He reached the nearest desk and gestured for Kuvira to sit, only to realize that the chair in question was occupied by a large stack of reports. He hastily shoved them off—earning a disapproving glare from Junko as they scattered across the floor—and took his own seat behind the desk.

“Now that we’re situated, perhaps some introductions are in order. My name is Toru, I’m the station chief here. What can we do for you, captain?”

Kuvira was true to her reputation, wasting no time on pleasantries. “Tarrlok runs a prison specifically for political dissidents and other high-value prisoners. I need blueprints, guard schedules, security assessments, prisoner lists, anything and everything else you have on it.”

The request caught Toru completely off guard. There could only be one reason why the captain would want that information—she intended to stage a breakout. The potential repercussions of such an act filled Toru with dread. If the Kitsunebi assisted them and their involvement was then exposed… it could very well start a war. He had no idea what sort of game Azula was playing here, but the stakes were astronomical.

That being said, the code phrase Kuvira had provided was as good as an order. He was obliged to assist her regardless of how much or how little information she was willing to share. But she didn’t necessarily know that, and he resolved to press that advantage to at least try to figure out what in Agni’s name was going on.

Toru leaned back and crossed his arms, looking down on her. “That’s quite an ask. You’ll have to forgive me if I require some information in exchange. What interest does Zaofu have with a Task Force internment camp?”

He raised an eyebrow in bemusement when Kuvira smiled bitterly. “I wouldn’t know. I was relieved of my post nearly a month ago, and I am no longer welcome in Zaofu. I’m sure Suyin would be more than happy to corroborate this should you contact her.” She spat the matriarch’s name with unexpected venom.

Toru’s eyes widened. Well, that certainly wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He wondered what could have caused such a rift between Suyin and her famous protégé. Still, it was something of a relief that Zaofu wasn’t involved, one less complication.

That did however leave the matter of who the ex-captain was working for. “I see. And the group you’re with now?”

“—is not something I can disclose at this time. Suffice it to say they have no ill intent towards the Fire Nation.” Kuvira answered evenly. Either she was telling the truth, or she was as good a liar as the former princess herself.

While it was less than he’d hoped for, it was still more than he’d expected. “And the Avatar, she is among them?”

Kuvira looked alarmed for a moment, before she relaxed and chuckled softly. “That phrase was more than just a password, wasn’t it? Yes, the Avatar is with us.”

“And our mutual friend?”

“She is with them as well, looking after her granddaughter.”

Now that was concerning. While Toru had the utmost confidence in Azula’s abilities, he could not discount the possibility that Asami was being used by this unnamed group as leverage against her.

He must have given away something in his expression, for Kuvira seemed to anticipate his concern, responding before he even had a chance to voice it. “Neither are being held hostage, I assure you.”

Toru’s look of skepticism did not go unnoticed, and Kuvira sighed in annoyance before continuing. “As you probably already know, Sato was badly injured by Tarrlok’s men. She is currently in no state to be moved, and our mutual friend wishes to remain by her side. The Avatar herself is seeing to her care. I suspect you’re already aware of what happened, or at least have an educated guess?”

Toru smiled as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Tarrlok finally succeeded, didn’t he? The girl he picked up was the Avatar, and Sato intervened on her behalf and was injured in the process.”

To say Kuvira looked impressed would probably have been an exaggeration, but at least she didn’t look disappointed. “Not bad.”

Toru continued, deciding to press his luck. “The Avatar feels responsible for the kidnappings, she intends to put a stop to them and release any girls Tarrlok still has imprisoned, exposing his activities to the public.”

“Two for two, will that be all?” Kuvira raised her eyebrow in evident irritation.

He refrained from saying what Azula presumably saw in this—the opportunity to discredit Tarrlok, reinvigorate his opposition, and drag the Avatar into the fray on their side, all with a single blow. It was clean and understated, maximizing reward while minimizing risk. A perfect combination of luck, manipulation, and cunning improvisation—it was so very Azula.

Toru gave her a smile, genuine this time. “I think that satisfies my questions.”

He nodded at the desk diagonal to them. “Junko will provide you with the documents you require. You are welcome to copy what you need, but none of the originals can leave this room.”

Junko gave them a small bow in acknowledgement, not bothering to hide that she’d overheard their entire conversation. Ever efficient, she rose and began pulling papers from the cabinet against the wall.

An hour and a half later, they had managed to find a full floor plan of the prison building as well as an incomplete list of prisoners and a guard schedule from several weeks prior.

Unit 14 had been hastily constructed, designed to deal with overflow from the Task Force’s holding cells below City Hall and keep certain less politically savory arrests out of the public eye. It sat on a small plain twelve or so lǐ to the north of the city, surrounded on all sides by dense forest.

The compound itself was unremarkable, guarded by a crude earthbent wall. Inside, barracks, the warden’s offices, and a garage sat next to the prison itself, which had been directly excavated into the earth. Two levels of cells ringed a sunken courtyard open to the sky, the top level still several chi underground. A watchtower in the center gave the guards within a clear view of every cell in the complex.

But what seemed to interest the former captain the most was a large subterranean chamber set off from the rest of the building, connected only by a narrow tunnel to the lowermost floor. The chamber’s interior was left blank, but the corner bore one small character, 铂. Platinum—if the girls were being held anywhere, it would be there.

Kuvira carefully copied the plans onto several blank sheets of paper. Toru had to admit he was impressed—with her speed and precision, she could’ve been a draughtsman.

Once she’d finished copying the plans along with the guard schedule and any other documents they could find, Kuvira gave him a sharply inquisitive look. “Is there anything else I should know about?”

Toru considered it for a moment, debating just how much he wanted to reveal about their intelligence-gathering capabilities. “It’s possible that there will be fewer guards on site than usual—Tarrlok recalled the majority of his forces back to the city following the attack on Sato and the Avatar.”

Toru leaned forward, thumbing the files on his desk. “But the forces you do encounter will have been selected from Tarrlok’s loyalists, many are skilled Northern waterbenders and former Dai Li agents. While it’s not impossible, I doubt you’ll encounter many metalbenders among the guards. With the RCPD’s lingering animosity towards the Task Force, it’s unlikely he’d reassign many of its officers there.”

Kuvira fixed him with a long stare before nodding in acknowledgement, seemingly satisfied with the information. She gave him a small bow in thanks and stood to arrange her papers.

Toru returned her bow with one of his own. “Regardless of the trust our mutual friend has placed in you, I would request that you not inform your other companions of what you have seen here. We would very much prefer that our assistance go unrecognized, especially given the potential… ramifications.”

“Naturally,” Kuvira replied, tilting her head. She understood his meaning, and the implicit warning that accompanied it.

Kuvira paused. “There is one last thing. Our friend requested that I pass along a message for Master Rui. She requests that you tell her their sapling is weak but remains very much alive, and that she should remember to water the fire lilies in her absence as it may be several weeks before she can return.”

Toru rolled his eyes and fought to hide a smile at his former mentor’s theatrics. “It shall be done.”

Kuvira merely nodded and tucked the papers into her cloak. She turned and gave him one final smirk over her shoulder. “I’ll show myself out.”

As soon as she was gone, Toru walked to the larger of the two safes and extracted a small unmarked pad from within. He ripped out the sheet containing a cypher marked with that day’s date and carried it to his desk along with several rolls of celluloid and a solvent brush. He quickly penned two messages, encrypting them with the sheet before incinerating it. The first carried Azula’s short message to her wife, and the second much longer missive was meant only for the eyes of the Fire Lord and the Central Committee.

When he finished, he called Kita back downstairs and passed her the letters, each now rolled and sealed in a small metal tube. Should the firebender be intercepted, only a single touch would be needed to heat the canisters and incinerate the celluloid sheets within.

“I need you to take these to the embassy immediately. Leave via the tunnel and take the path along the docks to Kyoshi Bridge before doubling back. I know I don’t need to explain this to you, but it is imperative that you are not followed and that these letters reach their destination. Am I clear?”

Kita nodded sharply. “Perfectly, chief.”

“Then go, now!”

She pulled the cabinet aside and darted down the narrow corridor beyond. Toru let out a long sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before turning to Junko. His second in command looked almost as weary as Toru felt. What he wouldn’t give for a long warm soak and a bowl of Liu Ren’s sobu right now.

“There’s a very good chance we’re about to be compromised. Have Ten Ten seal the entrance to the shop, then pack what you can and burn the rest. I’ll meet you at the safehouse in Dragon Flats tomorrow sixty degrees after sundown.”

Junko grumbled in exasperation, shaking her head. “We’re in for the shitshow of the century with this.”

Toru groaned. As much as he wished otherwise, he couldn’t disagree.

“Ohhh boy! Here comes the satoplane!”

The spoon wobbled in front of Tulugaq’s mouth, dripping porridge onto the floor. The guard holding it was looking back and forth from them to the spoon with some mix of pity and revulsion. Good. If these fuckers were going to insist on keeping Tulugaq’s hands locked in steel gloves and their ankles and neck chained to the wall, Tulugaq was damn well going to make it as outrageously awkward as they possibly could.

The balding guard sneered at them in disgust. “Shut up and eat, no tits.”

Rude! Truth be told, Tulugaq was a little self-conscious about their comparative lack of… assets, a situation that had not been helped by being chained to a wall and fed starvation rations for two weeks. But really, Tulugaq expected better from these guards. What happened to pride in one’s craft? If they were going to lob insults, they could at least be creative about it.

“Better titless than chinless.”

That earned them a slap. Tulugaq smiled and spat out the blood dribbling from a fresh split in their lip. “Tsk tsk, who knew Northerners had such thin skins?”

Baldy growled. “If you don’t shut your mouth I’ll shut it for you, permanently.”

How original. Did they have a phrasebook or something? Baldy moved forward into Tulugaq’s space and clenched his fists, trying to appear larger than he was. It probably would have been more effective if Tulugaq didn’t still best him by more than a head. All things considered, it was really rather pathetic.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to try that. How’s your buddy from the van?” Tulugaq smiled guilelessly, remembering the man’s look of pure horror when he saw his colleague’s motionless form.

Baldy’s eyes went wide with fear, and Tulugaq didn’t bother to hide their smirk. Even chained and manacled with their hands locked away in metal, Tulugaq still managed to intimidate the guards into keeping their distance. Killing three and putting one more in a coma will do that, Tulugaq supposed.

Baldy made the considerate choice and spat in Tulugaq’s face instead. “Fucking hut witch freak.”

Tulugaq just laughed. “Better a hut than Agna Qel'a. So, are you born with a stick up your ass in the North, or do you have to have it implanted?”

Another slap. Pity, he could have at least hit the other cheek.

“You—”

Whatever Baldy was about to say was cut off abruptly when the guard tower in the sunken courtyard beyond quite literally exploded. He dropped the bowl to the floor in surprise, splattering Tulugaq’s feet. The lukewarm mush dribbled in between their toes. Well, if that wasn’t just a lovely sensation.

Tulugaq was distracted by the sight of another guard jumping from the wreckage of the tower, screaming and on fire. Alright then.

Baldy gave Tulugaq one last look of pure loathing before rushing from the cell. He barely made it two steps before a flash of metal passed right through the back of his neck below his skull. Tulugaq watched in fascination as he slumped to the floor without another word. The shouting outside intensified, and Tulugaq saw two more metallic objects fly past the cell, followed immediately by the sound of two corresponding thumps just out of sight.

Not a moment later, a woman in green stepped into view on the walkway. She glanced into Tulugaq’s cell and scowled as she caught sight of its sole occupant. She wore steel armor in a complex pattern of overlapping plates, not unlike that of Republic City’s police metalbenders but clearly much lighter and more flexible. The cloth underneath was not the standard RCPD grey, but instead a deep forest green. So then, not one of Beifong’s, Tulugaq supposed. How curious.

To Tulugaq’s surprise, the woman then stepped inside. As she drew closer, Tulugaq could see that the right side of the metalbender’s face had been splattered in blood, though it was clearly not her own. It was a strange (and perhaps not altogether unappealing) contrast to the dispassionate expression she wore underneath. Calculating green eyes looked Tulugaq up and down, and the metalbender’s mouth turned upwards in the barest hint of a smirk.

The woman closed one fist and moved her arms in some kind of yanking motion, and the cuffs around Tulugaq’s neck and ankles dropped to the floor.

“Why do they have you in those?” She asked, pointing to the form-fitting steel gloves binding both of Tulugaq’s hands. Her voice was low, much lower than Tulugaq was expecting, and it was almost without inflection.

Tulugaq grinned at her. “Get me out of them and I’ll show you.”

Far from showing fear, the metalbender looked almost amused. She raised one eyebrow. “As you wish.”

She made a second pulling motion and Tulugaq’s hands were free for the first time in nearly two weeks. Tulugaq sighed in relief, wincing slightly as sensation slowly returned to their fingers.

Tulugaq shot her a look of gratitude. “Thanks for that. Tulugaq," they added. "It doesn’t seem we’ve met.”

“Kuvira. Are you coming or not?”

The woman—Kuvira—tilted her head in invitation before striding back out of the cell, ducking just in time to avoid a spear of ice passing overhead. A beat later and she was gone.

Tulugaq shrugged and followed, staggering out of the cell into absolute mayhem.

Every cell on the upper level had already been opened, and the prisoners—mostly Tulugaq’s fellow Kuro Hata by the looks of it—were quickly subduing the few remaining guards.

Down below, Tulugaq watched as a young woman in green tore open every single cell on the lower level with a single gesture. So, not only was there another metalbender, but one whose skin was as dark and eyes as blue as theirs, somehow dressed like a Gaoling serf. What in Koh’s name was going on?

There was a shout, then serf girl spun on her heel and shot a stream of fire at the guard attacking her from behind. Well, that answered one question by raising a dozen new ones, now didn't it?

Tulugaq had precious little time to ponder the miraculous reappearance of the Avatar as five more guards emerged from the access tunnel at the corner of the cell block. They rounded on Kuvira, now standing equidistant between Tulugaq and the guards at the end of the walkway.

Kuvira didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, leaping up onto the railing to dodge a flurry of ice before kicking off into a spin, tossing three strips of metal as she did so. They found their marks just as Kuvira landed in a crouch, now within striking distance of the two remaining guards.

The first threw a water whip that Kuvira dodged effortlessly, spinning on her palm as her foot shot out to knock the second guard off balance. He had no time to regain his footing before Kuvira twisted up and across to plant a metal spike squarely through the bottom of his jaw.

Tulugaq stood agog. They’d seen more than their fair share of fighting in their life, but never anything remotely like this. Kuvira effortlessly dodged and evaded every strike aimed at her, smiling as she retaliated with a fluidity and precision Tulugaq rare in most waterbenders, let alone an earthbender.

But add enough opponents and even the best fighter will be overwhelmed. Eight more guards approached along the walkway across from theirs, while another four emerged from the access tunnel, boxing Kuvira in.

Tulugaq snapped out of their haze, recalling the power once again at their fingertips. They could sense Yue’s presence overhead, listening as the moon amplified the gentle thrum of water in every living thing around them. Feeling the familiar push and pull, all Tulugaq had to do was reach out and take control of the tides within each body.

Tulugaq raised their hands towards the nearest cluster of guards, feeling for the blood flowing in the delicate vessels surrounding four separate hearts. They took control of it and clenched.

Four bodies crumpled to the steel floor. Tulugaq watched as the remaining eight guards scrambled back in terror.

Kuvira stood up and looked from Tulugaq to the quartet of now very dead guards with wide eyes. "How the fuck did you do that?"

Lightheaded from exertion, Tulugaq smiled at her and raised a hand that was already beginning to cramp. "Talented fingers."

"I'll say." Kuvira replied, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. The metalbender's cheeks were flushed in a way that Tulugaq made a point not to think about.

The moment was broken by the sound of boots clattering behind them along the steel walkway. Tulugaq spun around and nearly bowled over as a pair of strong, short arms wrapped around their waist.

“Yoshi!”

Tulugaq barely recognized their friend—his usual rotund frame had thinned, and his meticulous sideburns were now lost in a scruffy beard. The old man released Tulugaq with a laugh, smiling despite it all. “Knowing your talent for ending up on the wrong end of some jackboot’s heel, I can’t say I’m surprised they got you as well.”

Tulugaq’s relief was quickly tempered at the thought of their friends. “And the others? How many?”

“Seventy or so, the organizers and watch leaders mostly. We got ‘em all out, with a bit of help of course.” He said, nodding in Kuvira’s direction.

“Most of what's up top is wrecked, but there are still enough trucks in the garage to get the lot of us out of here. Kiko and Ren are working with Liu Ten to clear out the wounded. Turns out those Equalists aren’t too bad in a fight.”

Tulugaq didn’t have time to properly process that bit of information before a very familiar face emerged from the stairs behind Yoshi.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” The newcomer gave Yoshi a wry smile, and Tulugaq briefly wondered if they’d suffered a head injury without realizing.

“Chief Beifong?”

“Not a chief anymore, kid. Just call me Lin.” There was bitterness to her tone, but also something like relief. Tulugaq paused, trying to parse out what in the name of Yue and La was going on.

It was then that Tulugaq recalled that the last time they’d seen Lin was when they were locked in one of her holding cells nursing a black eye and a dozen other cuts and bruises, and decided that they really didn’t give a damn.

“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please after the beatdown your men gave me.” Tulugaq spat.

Yoshi put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Look, I’m not forgetting what she’s done either, but she’s the one who saved our asses back there.”

Lin’s grimaced. “For what little it’s worth, I’m sorry. It took me far too long to see that I’d become the thing I thought I was fighting against.”

Tulugaq spat at her feet. The arrogance, as if one apology meant anything against years of brutality. “Tell that to the rest of us you locked up.”

Lin looked away in obvious discomfort, and Tulugaq fists tightened. If they reached out, they could feel the low thrum within the former chief. How easy it would be to make it absolutely certain she’d never harm anyone again...

A gloved hand on their forearm made Tulugaq jolt. They turned to see Kuvira, looking at her with something almost like sympathy. Her tone was low and carried an undercurrent of warning as she leaned in and whispered, “believe me, I know. Later, not now.”

Tulugaq relaxed their arm and relief flashed across Kuvira’s face. She quietly released her grip and turned to Lin. “Korra and the others are taking too long, we need to go.”

Lin nodded in response, clearly thankful for the interruption. She turned to head back down the stairs, gesturing for Kuvira to follow.

Kuvira sighed before stepping towards the stairs. She gave Tulugaq a knowing grin, her eyes lingering for just a moment too long on the gap between their collarbone and neck.

Oh hell, Why not. Throwing caution to the wind, Tulugaq called after her. “If you live, come find me sometime!”

“Okay ladies, light’s out!”

Atka pressed her face against the bars, eyes searching out Umi’s in her cell across the room. She resisted the desire to stretch out her hand towards her. The last time she’d done that, she’d been rewarded with a bruised wrist.

Her chest ached at the thought of the other girl. This was their twenty second day in this spirits-forsaken hole. Twenty two days since they’d last held each other, since Atka had last felt Umi’s lips on her skin and the warmth of her chest against her back.

They’d been picked up together, the black-clad man making a joke about two fish for the price of one as he cuffed her lover to the steel grate of the van, backhanding her when she cried out. The guards had made a sadistic point to put them in cells as far from each other as possible—Atka could only just make out Umi’s face if she pressed herself flush against the bars, and even then only if Umi did the same.

The guard struck the bar above her head with his baton, causing her to stumble backwards onto the thin straw mat that covered most of her cell’s narrow floor. Her ears were still ringing as he laughed and walked on, muttering something to the reedy guardswoman with him about polar bear dogs in heat.

Atka’s face flushed in rage and humiliation as she stumbled back to her feet. “Open up this cage ashmaker, and I’ll show you my claws.”

A nasally voice intruded from the cell next to hers. “Pipe down, you’ll get us all in trouble again.”

Atka snapped back at her. “I swear on Yue and La, shut up Korra or I’ll beat you myself.”

She couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction as she saw the Northerner’s face wrinkle in distaste at the name. Nikka had been a thorn in her side since she’d arrived two weeks ago. Prissy and filled with unwarranted self-importance, the only Northerner among them had spent her first day pleading with the guards in a futile effort to convince them that they must’ve made some sort of mistake. She was a proper Northern Lady, and there was no way she could be mistaken for this sort of harbor trash.

Unsurprisingly, she’d also been the most resistant to adopting the name they now all shared.

Two days after Nikka arrived, Atka watched in horror as three guards mercilessly beat the girl in the cell across from hers, demanding that she confess to being the Avatar.

At a loss for what else to do, Atka screamed at them in a last-ditch attempt to divert their attention.

“How dare you, I’m Korra!”

It worked, perhaps too well—the guards released the girl and turned on her instead. But before they could enter her cell, Umi’s voice rang out.

“No, I’m Korra!”

Others soon followed, and the room was quickly filled with a chorus of outraged shouts.

“Liar! I’m Korra!”

“Imposter! Fraud! She's not Korra, I am!”

“How dare you! It's me, I'm the Avatar!”

The warden rewarded their petty act of insubordination by withholding food for three days. If anything, it only hardened their collective resolve—from then on, whenever they spoke to each other within earshot of a guard, they always referred to each other by the name of the girl whose face had landed them here in the first place.

Atka only hoped that wherever she was, the real Avatar would make their suffering worth it.

She’d almost drifted off to sleep when she heard a loud thump against the door at the end of the hall, followed shortly by the sharp click of the lock. The two guards with them scrambled at the switch to the light before taking combat stances—the twin looks of terror in their eyes filled Atka with a vicious sense of pleasure.

The door swung open with a bang and a flash of orange flame. A fireball hit the first guard in the face and he dropped to the ground, writhing in agony. His colleague summoned her own fire in response, only to have her flames parted effortlessly by the young woman striding into the room.

Atka had heard stories of the previous Avatar. Her mother had met him once, back when she was still a trainee in the healing huts. She described him to Atka as a sprightly old monk, gentle and kind with just a hint of mischief behind his eyes. The woman before her was none of those things. She was as solid and unflinching as the earth she stood upon, her arms muscular and ringed with tattoos. Dressed in the greens of the Earth Kingdom with her hair short and carelessly cropped, she radiated righteous fury. Atka was reminded of tales from her childhood in which Avatar Kyoshi ended Chin's reign of terror over the Earth Kingdom, her anger so terrible that it cleaved the continent in two and left the erstwhile conqueror to drown beneath the waves.

The Avatar passed the first guard's limp form without breaking stride, twisting her arm to strike the second with an ice dagger to the thigh. She walked up to the woman, now kneeling on the ground and glowering at her. The Avatar gazed down at her, seething with rage. She took her head between her hands and twisted. Atka had to look away as she heard a sickening crack.

The Avatar looked around her in disgust and horror before taking several deep breaths to steady herself. "My name is Korra. I’m the one Tarrlok’s been after, and I’m not leaving here without you.”

Her face darkened. “And I swear to you on all the Avatars before me that I will make him pay for this."

Atka heard a triumphant shout from down the row of cells.

"Korra!"

Others soon joined the chorus, and it grew to a deafening roar, echoing off the platinum walls of the cell block.

Only now did Atka notice the two people who had followed the Avatar into the room. The first was a goateed man, shirtless and heavily built. He was tattooed as well, though his were much more extensive, crossing his chest and back and snaking down his arms. With him was a freakishly tall woman wearing a severe expression and dressed entirely in red and black. Both now shot meaningful glances at Korra.

The Avatar looked almost sheepish as she raised her hands and the din subsided.

The tattooed man tossed her the keys taken off the dead guard. "Locks now, adulation later."

Korra jumped into motion, nearly colliding with the nearest cell in her haste. After several tense minutes, she finally got the door open and unlocked the shackles on the girl within. She moved on to the next but fumbled with the lock, unable to find the correct key out of the dozens on the ring.

Another blast from beyond the door let them know they had company.

The tall woman shouted. “Ghazan!”

The man nodded and dropped into an earthbending stance. A wall of earth surged upward outside, shielding them from attack but also blocking their only means of escape.

He gave the woman a dark look before turning back to Korra. “We don’t have time for this. Korra, you remember that superheating trick I taught you? Use it on the locks!”

Korra hesitated before nodding in acknowledgement. She pulled a fist-sized chunk of earth from her pocket, and Atka watched in awe as it floated between her hands and began to radiate heat. Korra’s brow furrowed in concentration as the lump liquefied, it’s deep red glow intensifying until it turned orange and then a blinding yellow-white.

She fed it into the lock on her cell, and Atka was forced to jump back as it liquefied the metal around it, causing it to drip and splash down onto the floor. Korra pulled open the door and hastily stomped out the smoldering bits of bedding ignited by the burning slag.

She drew the lava back out from the lock and approached, keeping it contained in a levitating ball between her hands.

Korra kicked away Atka’s bedding and looked her straight in the eye. “Hold out your hands and spread them as much as you can. It’s hard to control it when it’s this hot and I really don’t want to burn you!”

Atka did as she was told, flinching when the liquid rock ate through the chain binding her hands. Korra gave her a relieved look before she repeated the process with the chain between Atka’s feet. Korra then darted out, rushing to the next cell before a dazed Atka had the chance to thank her.

Korra and Ghazan made short work of the remaining cells. Atka was trying not to think too hard about how they were apparently bending lava when a cry distracted her. She barely had time to turn around before Umi barreled into her and smothered her with a kiss. Atka collapsed into her lover, only pulling away when her lungs began to burn. When she finally opened her eyes Umi was crying, her tears mingling with her own.

A sharp grinding sound caused them to jolt apart, and Atka turned in horror to see cracks spidering outwards through the barrier beyond the door.

Ghazan was sweating profusely, straining to hold the shield together. He shot a panicked look at the tall woman. “P’Li, we need a plan now!”

P’Li’s face hardened and she turned to Korra. “Get them together, and keep them back!”

Korra nodded and then shouted at the girls huddling in the narrow corridor. “You heard her! Everyone back against the far wall! Waterbenders in front, nonbenders behind!”

Atka clung to Umi’s hand, the shackle digging into her wrist as they pressed against each other. Korra took up a position in front of them, pulling all the water she could find into a defensive ball in front of her. “We’re clear!”

On either side of the door beyond them, Korra's two companions exchanged glances.

“Ba Sing Se ’45?” P'Li asked.

A slow grin crossed Ghazan’s face, and he nodded. “Ba Sing Se ’45.”

P’Li moved in front of the door and stood facing it, placing one foot behind her and leaning forward on the other, her hands loose at her sides. “On three.”

“One… two…”

The air seemed to still, and Atka watched as a cone of air materialized in front of the firebender, extending from her head to the center of the shield. Off to her right, Ghazan bent his knees and spread his feet wide.

“…three!”

What happened next took a matter of seconds. Atka heard a series of three sharp pops as Ghazan dropped the shield, revealing nearly a dozen guards taking positions in the tunnel beyond. Before their eyes could even widen in surprise, a pulse of energy shot out from the firebender’s forehead, leaving concentric shockwaves in the air. As the pulse made contact Ghazan wrenched up the shield again. They were plunged into darkness as the entire room shook with the force of an explosion.

Korra and P’Li lit flames in their palms, and Ghazan once more brought down the earthen barrier. Ash and dust flooded into the room, and Atka fought not to gag. She could just barely see the dim glow of Korra’s flames ahead of her, and she felt her arm constrict as Umi clung tighter to her side.

Guided by Korra’s shouts, the group slowly made their way out of the cell block and up the narrow corridor beyond. Several times, Atka felt something crunch beneath her feet. She willed herself not to imagine exactly what it was she was stepping on.

The passage opened out onto the main courtyard of the prison, and for the first time in over three weeks Atka saw the night sky and felt Yue’s presence overhead. Umi sobbed quietly next to her and buried her head in the crook of Atka’s neck.

The scene before them was one of near-total devastation. The guard tower in the center of the courtyard had collapsed in on itself and was now little more than smoldering wreckage, the cells on both floors around it had been ripped open and now lay empty. Dozens of guards lay dead around them, crushed by rubble or hanging from guardrails, lacerated or burnt.

Two women approached, both wearing forest green tunics under steel armor. As they got closer, Atka could make out the pink scars crossing the older woman’s cheek. Chief Beifong?

“Took you long enough.” She huffed.

(And yes, it definitely was Lin Beifong. What in the name of Yue was going on?)

“There were complications.” P’Li responded in a perfect deadpan.

Lin snorted. “And I take it the explosion we heard was you uncomplicating them?”

“Something like that.”

Lin just shook her head. “The other prisoners have already fled. Kuvira’s got a couple of trucks stashed in the woods outside the gate, we should all get out of here before reinforcements arrive.”

P’Li nodded and gestured for them to follow. They climbed up two flights of stairs littered with scorch marks and debris, emerging through a demolished door out onto the upper courtyard. It had taken even more damage than the prison below—the guards’ barracks and warden’s office both looked like they’d been sunk in lava. Come to think of it, they probably had.

Atka was shocked to see that the front part of the prison’s massive outer wall had been reduced almost entirely to rubble. The three earthbenders cleared them a path through, and they followed a dirt road until the younger metalbender gestured for them to stop. She dropped into a horse stance, and the earth split to reveal two trucks as they rose up from their hiding place beneath the ground.

Minutes later Atka was sitting in one of the trucks, a blanket over her shoulders and Umi tucked safely into her side. She watched with bitter satisfaction as Ghazan worked in unison with Korra to melt the outer walls, the orange glow engulfing what remained of their prison.

She thought of her flower shop, of the apartment above it and the girl whose heart now beat a steady pulse against her shoulder. She thought of a necklace hidden behind their headboard, and a future that was once again open before her.

Chapter Text

She was surrounded by fools.

Utter incompetents, the lot of them. Her Resplendent Majesty Hou-Ting, Fifty Third Sovereign of the Earth Kingdom, Sworn Protector of the Royal City of Ba Sing Se, Anointed of Oma and Shu yelped as the servant exfoliating her feet hit a particularly sensitive spot on her right heel.

She jerked her head up, causing one of the cucumber-melon slices covering her eyes to slip off and fall to the tile below with a wet plop. Hou-Ting fixed the girl now whimpering at her feet with a one-eyed scowl. She debated whether or not to give her a sharp kick, but ultimately thought better of it. While deserved, such crude violence would be beneath her.

“Guard! Take this worthless wretch from my sight and bring me someone competent!”

The nearer of her two guardsmen gripped the girl by the shoulder and shoved her roughly in the direction of the door. Eyes fearful, she dipped into a series of frantic bows as she scurried backwards out of sight.

Honestly, it was so difficult to find good help.

The servant winding curlers into her hair pulled roughly at her scalp, and Hou-Ting sneezed involuntarily. The other slice of cucumber-melon slid off the side of her face, and she blinked twice through reddened, blotchy eyes. She reached behind her and snatched the trembling woman’s sleeve to wipe away the snot dripping from her nose.

These damned allergies were simply intolerable. All thanks to a maid who had the temerity to sneak some unwashed beast into the palace. She’d had the thing skinned alive and its erstwhile owner banished for good measure. Let no one say she wasn’t merciful, she was well within her rights to execute the girl.

Hou-Ting startled again when the phone on the smaller of her two writing desks began ringing, shattering the silence of an already unpleasant morning. As if summoned from whatever dark hole he secreted off to whenever she wasn’t looking, Grand Secretariat Gun shuffled into the room and snatched the earpiece from its holder.

Gun nodded sharply, mouth twitching as his eyes flickered to her in obvious trepidation. “One moment, Councilman.”

The clay coating her face tugged unpleasantly and began to flake as she shot Gun a withering look. It was barely past six, whatever the dear councilman wanted, it had better be urgent enough to justify interrupting her morning routine.

Gun dragged the phone over to her vanity, holding the speaker to her ear as she snatched the mouthpiece with her free hand.

“Councillor! Tell me, what could possibly be so important as to warrant bothering me at this hour?”

“Your Majesty, I do apologize for the intrusion, but...”

Hou-Ting cut him off before he could offer whatever worthless excuse he had managed to concoct.

“Save it, Tarrlok. You are going to tell me that the reports I have received are inaccurate, because I simply cannot believe that any ally of mine could be so spectacularly incompetent.”

“Your Majesty, I assure you, I have things fully under control.”

“Fully under control? Fully under control!?” Hou-Ting screeched. She snapped her hand back from the servant applying a coat of red lacquer to her nails, causing the carefully arranged bottles on her vanity to clatter to the floor.

“The situation is in hand, I assure you. Whatever unrest was caused by the… incident last week at Unit 14 is only temporary, a purely local matter…”

Hou-Ting could practically smell the panic under the fake, silky smoothness of his tone. She was livid—that simpering, pathetic...

“I have riots in the Lower Ring, riots thanks to you! They’re calling her the People’s Avatar, they’re burning effigies of me in HER NAME!” Hou-Ting shouted, coating the receiver with flecks of clay and spittle.

“You’ve had weeks to deal with her, and now you’ve made your failure my problem! I do not like it when people make problems for me, Tarrlok…”

Tarrlok began jabbering into her ear, the tinny quality of the connection making his voice all the more unbearable.

“The Avatar was not alone, several of the prisoners we’ve recaptured and interrogated reported that she had the help of an Earth Kingdom terrorist group, along with an agent of Zaofu—Kuvira herself, if their statements are to be believed—so do not tell me that this is merely my problem!”

"Suyin," Hou-Ting spat under her breath, digging her nails into the chair. She should have wiped that metalbending harlot’s twisted little social experiment off the map years ago.

Hou-Ting paused in her ruminations, gathering herself. If the terrorists in question were who she suspected, Suyin’s errant ward would be the least of her problems. She moderated her voice and took one last deep, calming breath.

“And what do you know of this supposed group?” She asked sweetly.

The line went quiet for nearly half a minute before Tarrlok deigned to respond, only darkening her mood. The Earth Queen did not like to be kept waiting.

“They appear to be violent anarchists of some sort, a rogues’ gallery of thugs and murderers. Our reports indicate the presence of a female combustionbender in her thirties or fourties, along with a male earthbender who can—and the damage done to the compound corroborates this—bend lava. Does any of that sound familiar?”

Tarrlok’s tone was almost accusatory, and Hou-Ting didn’t like it one bit. She decided to hedge.

“You must be mistaken. The group you are alluding to hasn’t been active in decades... they’re presumed dead, in fact.”

“I can assure you, they are very much alive. And what’s even more concerning, the Sato girl appears to be working with them,” Tarrlok hesitated for a brief moment, “as well as our former police chief.”

Now that gave her pause. Two Red Lotus members, the Sato girl, Toph Beifong’s eldest, the guard captain from Zaofu... they all had one thing in common. Or rather, one person. Hou-Ting positively shook with rage, of course she was behind this.

More clay flaked away as Hou-Ting’s face twisted into an ugly mockery of a smile.

“Tell me Tarrlok, has there been any unusual firebender activity in the city this past month?” She asked, almost sweetly.

“There’s been a slight increase in chatter in and out of the embassy lately, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary. Why?”

Hou-Ting slammed down her fist triumphantly.

“I knew it! This is all the doing of that ash whore and her little gang of mirror polishers, it has to be.”

“Pardon, your Majesty?”

Hou-Ting sighed at Tarrlok’s seemingly genuine confusion. Must she explain everything?

“A terrorist group sponsored by Fire Nation intelligence, her counterpart in what's practically a Fire Nation protectorate, the female lover of her dead half-breed daughter, and her deviant granddaughter… do I really have to spell it out for you, or is your skull as thick as the ice in that wasteland you come from?”

“You can’t possibly be suggesting...”

“Yes, her, you absolute halfwit!” Hou-Ting spat. The sniveling bureaucrat was deeply trying her patience. “The bitch should have been hung like a common criminal for what she did to my city during the war, but our dearly departed Avatar was oh so soft.”

Even across the staticky line, Tarrlok’s frustration was transparent.

“I don’t have time for your paranoid conspiracy theories. Even if she is somehow behind this—which, I might add, there's absolutely no evidence of, let alone proof of direct involvement—what exactly would you have me do? Surely you aren’t… disgraced royalty or not, she’s still the head of the Kitsunebi, killing her would be tantamount to a declaration of war.”

Hou-Ting scowled, causing the servant behind her to flinch and drop yet another curler. “Of course I don’t mean kill her, you idiot, what sort of simpleton do you take me for? Locate her precious granddaughter and have your triad contacts use the girl’s head to send that conniving ashmaker a message. It worked well enough last time the bitch got impertinent.”

At first Hou-Ting thought there was a problem with the line, but no, the bastard was laughing.

“And that clearly had no consequences whatsoever... do you think I’m a fool? The last time we so much as laid a scratch on the Sato girl, the Equalists burned a dozen city blocks in retribution and then the Avatar herself went on a rampage that killed over seventy of my men! Go find someone else to carry out your little vendetta.”

Whatever hesitancy had been present in Tarrlok’s voice was gone now, replaced by something dangerously close to mockery. Hou-Ting had half a mind to slam the mouthpiece back in Gun’s face, but she valiantly held her temper.

“Why you impudent, ungrateful…” she held her breath, letting it out slowly.

Tarrlok cut her off.

“Blame me all you want, but as you yourself have so kindly pointed out, this Avatar is no longer only my concern. I am sick and tired of you, Grand Lotus Ho-Shen, and High Chief Unalaq all just sitting there with your hands up your sleeves while I work day and night to solve the actual problems here!”

Hou-Ting’s knuckles went white, she positively trembled with rage.

“Listen to me very carefully Tarrlok. I have been good to you, my Kingdom has been good to you. You will fix your mess, and you will do away with that troublesome little water peasant so that the Avatar Spirit can be reincarnated into someone worthy of the title. Do whatever it takes, call in your military if you have to, because if you fail, I will call in mine, and I will finally put an end to that disgraceful stain on Earth Kingdom soil you call a country!”

Seething, Hou-Ting slammed the mouthpiece into a trembling Gun who flinched and promptly dropped it, sending it crashing to the floor where it shattered in a small flurry of sparks.