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Aang was an Air Nomad through and through. He was a vegetarian, a devoted pacifist, and kept his personal possessions to a minimum. He was light on his feet, moved like a leaf in the wind, and dodged attacks in the flick of a lemur’s tail. And of course, he valued freedom—especially the freedom to wander, just as many nomads before him had done. To him, the world was just out there, waiting to be explored.
That being said, his concept of home had always shifted around. About a hundred years ago, he would have said his home was the sky. Sure, he grew up at the Southern Air Temple, but to his people, temples were merely stops to rest, organize, and train. For the younger ones, it was a place to grow up—sort of like a nest. Some Air Nomads stayed to help take care of the children, lead the council, or help run the temples, but Aang always knew he was happiest atop a bison, flying from place to place to meet new people and ride new animals. It upset him very much when he was asked to stay in the temples more often for extra training as the Avatar, and if it weren’t for Gyatso, he would probably have tried ditching training for the skies altogether.
This all changed when he ran away, of course. After getting freed from the iceberg and learning about the genocide, his perspective of home shifted to a sense of belonging, identity, and origin—a more Water Tribe perspective he had gained from Sokka and Katara. Suddenly, home was his people, Monk Gyatso and all the other monks who had trained him and laughed with him and grew with him. Home was playing air ball with all the other kids, and flinging fruit pies at unsuspecting elder monks. And now that they existed only in his memory, home had become every deserted temple, every Air Nomad artifact he could find. They were all mere echoes of what they used to be, but they were the closest reminders he had of the world he knew—the home he knew.
Home had turned into everything he missed.
In the years after the end of the war, he’d visit the temples every now and then, and it was the closest he would get to understanding the immense joy he saw in Katara and Sokka whenever they were at the Southern Water Tribe. He’d walk through the great halls of the temples, thinking of all the lemurs that used to fly in and out of the wide windows. He’d meditate in the garden ruins and wander the plazas where they used to hold festivals, trying to relive a lost sense of community. He’d look around for relics he could salvage, remembering how they were nothing but everyday items to him back then. He’d sit on the rooftops, reflecting on how much life used to fill the now abandoned temple, and how he really, truly was the last airbender left.
It was a slow process, but with time, it became clearer to him that his memories were of an era past. On this particular autumnal equinox visit, he had gazed at Monk Gyatso’s crumbling statue and realized grimly that dear as they were to him, the gloomy emptiness of the temples was not a place he could call home.
And so he sought comfort instead in the familiar and the constant.
Aang tugged at Appa’s reins, flying them up above a cloud. The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile—the sun was high, and they had made good distance from the Southern Air Temple since leaving earlier that morning. Until they got to the South Pole, it was going to be just him, Appa, and Momo soaring through the skies—the three of them, being at home in their element.
He felt a familiar rush as the cool wind rustled his robes, and he took in the beautiful azure surrounding him, interrupted only by what seemed to be the puffiest clouds. He gazed down at the seemingly endless blanket of ocean below them, sparkling like a bed of sapphire in the sun. It was admittedly the stuff airbenders’ dreams were made of, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that something felt … lacking.
He didn’t get it. The sky had always been home, hadn’t it? He and his friends had practically lived atop Appa for at least a year. Flying had always made him feel at ease, contented, and so free to be himself—so why was something different this time?
Maybe … maybe it was because of how he was distractedly wondering how much longer it would take to get to the Southern Water Tribe. Or how he kept reaching out to the empty space next to him, instinctively seeking the warmth of a body next to his, a head leaning on shoulder. Perhaps it was because he caught himself looking over at Appa’s saddle too many times, wishing he could see her dark hair whipping through the wind instead of just the reins he held in front of him.
“Katara,” he found himself murmuring. A warm feeling spread over him as he said her name, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. Of course, he thought, a smile coming to his lips. He didn’t often feel her absence as they were usually together when flying around the world, but this time, she had opted to stay at the South Pole to assist Pakku in teaching (“Apparently, his students want to learn how to fight and heal, and he can only do one of those,” she had said smugly.)
Appa gave a low roar, making Aang chuckle. “Can’t wait to see her either, huh, buddy?” He ruffled the bison’s fur. “She’s really something, isn’t she? You and I’ve loved the sky for as long as I can remember, but when it comes to her, we can’t wait to land.”
From behind him, Momo jumped up, purring as he settled down beside him. He gave the lemur a scratch behind the ears, amused. “I guess you can sit next to me for the meantime, Momo. It’ll be a few hours still.”
Dusk had already fallen when they were finally greeted by the familiar lights of the restored Southern Water Tribe, and Aang excitedly took this as a sign to start their descent. Slowly, a familiar silhouette came into view, and he couldn’t stop the grin that came to his face when he saw her waving.
They landed with a loud thump, and Aang smoothly airbent himself off the bison. Before he could do anything else, Katara ran over to him and threw herself at him in a tight hug.
“Katara!” he exclaimed, melting into her arms.
“Aang!” She pulled away to give him a peck on the cheek, to which the young Avatar flushed red. Years of dating hadn’t desensitized her to him at all. “How was your trip?” she asked, before turning around to rest a hand on Appa in greeting.
He paused for a moment, watching as Momo scurried over to Katara to demand the same attention. “… Meaningful,” he said.
She turned her attention back to him, curious with his choice of words. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes searching. “I can imagine it doesn’t get easier to see your home so different from what it was a hundred years ago.”
Aang regarded her thoughtfully. Sure, being faced with the harsh reality of the temples was hard, but home … home had turned into the beautiful, courageous girl who never turned her back on people who needed her. Home was in the blue eyes that reflected the same amount of love he had for her, the strong arms that held him together at his lowest points. Home was the way she had just reached for his hand and held it in hers.
Home used to be a place, then it had become an entire people. As he looked at his girlfriend, however, he knew that it had become a person.
The Air Nomads’ love for you has not left this world. It is still inside of your heart, and is reborn in the form of new love.
He had faced death more times than he could count, even almost succumbed to it, but he had always found his way back to her. And maybe that was what home was—something you’d come back to no matter how far you roamed.
Or in this case, someone.
“Aang?” Katara repeated, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Something on your mind?”
He shook his head, a laugh escaping him. Katara tilted her head in amused confusion, questioning what could make the airbender laugh. “You, of course,” he replied.
Aang admired the lovely pink tint that splashed across her cheeks. “Sounds like you missed me.”
“Of course. Having Momo sit next to me instead of you just isn’t the same,” he replied breezily, making her laugh in earnest as the lemur seemed to purr indignantly. “Anyway, how’s the waterbending training going?”
“Well, Pakku’s the same old grumpy guy. But it’s a good thing I stayed, because really, for all his being a waterbending master, he doesn’t have an ounce of a healing touch at all.”
Momo jumped back to sit on his shoulder. “Maybe he’s too much of a man for it,” he remarked dryly.
Katara smirked. “Is that true for you too, Mr. Avatar?”
“No. But not needing to learn healing is a perk that comes with dating the best waterbender and healer in the world,” he said, shrugging.
Katara was about to shoot back her response when she was cut off by a loud growl coming from Aang’s stomach. “I’ll tell you more over dinner. Come on, everyone will be glad to see you.”
“Sounds great!” Aang hesitated. “Um, what’s for dinner, by the way?”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I made some seaweed noodles especially for you, you picky Air Nomad. I know you don’t like sea prunes.”
He grinned at her, grateful and touched. “I love you,” he said, before giving her a chaste kiss on the lips.
“I love you, too,” she replied with a smile. “Now let’s get back before Sokka goes looking for us.”
He chuckled. “It’s good to be back,” he said, squeezing Katara’s hand. “It’s good to be home,” he added softly.
Katara turned to him, her expression colored with surprise before melting into a tender one. She leaned in a little closer to him.
Aang was an Air Nomad through and through, but even nomads tended to wander in groups, having found home not in a physical location but in the company of each other. And as they trudged through the ankle-deep snow back to the tribe, her gloved hand in his tattooed one, he knew that this—that she—was going to be his home for as long as he lived.