Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Gentlemen.” Raiko's voice carried around the City Hall chamber. Asami shifted her seat, forcing her face to remain impassive. She could sense Pukiq sneering in her direction, but kept her eyes glued to the president. “It’s been three months since the spirit vines have occupied this city. I’m sorry it has taken me this long to call a Business Council meeting, but now that the threat of the Red Lotus terrorists has been quelled, we are finally able to get on with things.”

You still don't get it, thought Asami. Raiko continued, “Fortunately, my city planner has crafted a strategy for our infrastructure that will allow us to put Republic City back in ship-shape.”

“And it only took one full quarter of the fiscal year,” Ojas stage-whispered to Lau Gan-Lan. The owner of Cabbage Corp leaned away from the manufacturer, pretending not to have heard. Raiko cleared his throat. “Sarika, you may present now.”

The bespectacled boy in the seat to Raiko’s right stood and carefully unrolled a map onto the table in front of them. Asami put his age at twenty-two; despite his solid figure, there was a flustered look about Sarika that suggested inexperience. He had spent the better part of the meeting’s introductions fidgeting with the cuffs on his tan suit, as though wearing it was something new.

When Sarika spoke his voice was even, yet directed into the paper. “We’ve talked to the best benders in the city, and they all swear there is no way to clear these vines for good. Every attempt to do so has resulted in them lashing back or multiplying. Fortunately, Chief Beifong thinks that with the help of her metalbenders, we should be able to keep them contained. Our plan calls for her team to wrap parts of the larger vines in metal and affix them to building structures. This will clear the vines from the street and force them to grow along the sides of the buildings, where they will be less obstructive.”

This will never work, Asami thought. Korra always talked about the vines as if they have their own will. She held her tongue, all the same.

"We’ve already managed to get the city’s water flowing through the major areas by moving the pipes around the vines. The effort from the metalbenders should speed up the repairs to the rest of the plumbing infrastructure.” Sarika’s eyes flicked up at Raiko, as if for approval, but the President was busy studying everyone else’s face. He continued, seeming to talk faster than before, “However, the vines in the Spirit Wilds are simply too dense to manage. We may have to cut our losses and expand the city around it instead.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ojas glared at Raiko. “You make us wait months before formulating any sort of plan, and the best you’ve got is some boy telling us that we have to abandon part of our city?”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Lekh added in his even, cold voice. “I had many real estate holdings in that sector. ‘Cutting my losses’ would put my business in a precarious position.”

“My primary factory has a vine growing right through the assembly line!" Lau Gan-Lan sounded panicked, as always. "How is my Cabbage Corp supposed to produce anything? Even if the metalbenders can contain some of the vines, they can’t remove interior intrusions!” 

Given your workmanship, a tree in the middle of your line might be an improvement. Asami noticed sweat forming on Sarika’s brow.

“Everyone is struggling to deal with these vines. Losses are not exclusive to one company,” Raiko replied.

“I’ll say.” Pukiq’s oily voice set Asami’s teeth on edge. “Between the anarchy in the Earth Kingdom and the halting of production here, I’ve got nothing to ship. There’s only so much walrus-yak meat the world wants to buy, and I’ve got her royal Fire-Queen-the-all-mighty complaining to me about a lack of tradable goods. She’s got me bowing so deeply these days I think my back may break.” Ojas chuckled, Daruka sniffed audibly, and Asami struggled to not roll her eyes.

“Fire Lord Izumi’s frustrations aside, this plan is flawed for our city," Lekh offered, studying Raiko's face. "It focuses too much on public needs: cleared roads and running waters. Of course our businesses need those to operate as well, but somehow I do not see you thinking this plan would be acceptable if the hospital or Central City Station were in the Wilds.”

“If that were the case, we would have to rebuild them elsewhere,” Sarika said, tremulously. “There’s simply no way to cut through the wilds.”

“Well why don’t you have Beifong’s bunch use metal gates to push their way through the wilds?” Ojas asked. “I’m no bender, but that’s gotta do something!”

Pukiq laughed. “If the bitch will even help." Lekh turned to glare at him.

“If you can coil and constrain them away from the roads, then you can do that anywhere!” the Cabbage vendor shouted. "That should be made available as compensation for the damages we've sustained."

“It’s a matter of resources,” Raiko began, but the room had already dissolved into chaos, everyone rising to their feet. Lau was now panicking in the direction of Lekh, who was determinedly scribbling notes on the paper in front of him. Daruka was failing to quiet Ojas, yelling about his upcoming shareholder meeting. Pukiq was making loud, bawdy jokes to no one in particular. Out of the corner of her eye Asami saw Samir grab the collar of Iluq. If I had known it would come to blows, I would have brought my glove.

Raiko was shouting for order, but Asami paid him no more mind than anyone else. Instead, she rose, pushing her chair away from the table, and walked to where Sarika was cowering, the map still in front of him. “Do you have a pen?” His eyes widened at her sudden presence, but he drew one out of his coat pocket without question. Asami leaned over the map and made a few quick lines. “You can’t constrain the vines, at least not with metal. Eventually, they'll break free,” she said quietly. Sarika rose and leaned over her shoulder to watch her draw. “We do have to work around them, but fortunately there’s a logic to their growth. If we had more curved roadways that allowed for them to become intertwined—”

There was an audible crash from the other side of the room, causing Asami to stop her work. Sarika pointed to a line she had just drawn. “Wouldn’t this be too high in materials costs?” His voice was low, but she couldn’t help but notice how much more mature he sounded than he had just moments before.

“Not if we build vertically rather than the roundabout weaving you had proposed. It’s the same thing that should be happening with the pipes.” After a few more marks, she finished and straightened up. Raiko was still waving his hands and calling for order.

“Mr. President!” Asami called, hoping her voice would carry. He didn’t hear her, but Pukiq did. Of course, she thought. “Hey Raiko! Miss Sato is talking to you! You know it’s impolite to ignore a woman!” She refused to let any anger show, though she could feel heat rushing to her face. Pukiq was disgusting, but at least his voice carried. All eyes were suddenly on her.

“Mr. President." Asami turned towards Raiko, who was looking startled. “I'm sorry, but this plan won’t work. The vines cannot be cleared out of the road and held back with metal. They have a will of their own and grow no matter what we do. We need a plan that works with them—that doesn’t treat their existence as a nuisance.”

“So what, should we try and talk to the vines? Ask them how they’re feeling?” Ojas was smirking.

“Well, for one, you might want to consult with spiritual leaders about the spirit vines, not a team of metalbenders.”

Raiko frowned. “I would have liked to, but the Avatar is down at the South Pole, healing."

“Licking her wounds more like,” Pukiq put in. “I heard some outlaw nearly offed her.”

Asami's anger was on her before she could stop herself. “Korra’s saved this world three times, and that ‘outlaw’ is the reason the Earth Kingdom is in complete disarray right now. I’d be a little more thankful if I were you.” Pukiq opened his mouth, but she turned back towards the President before he could get any words out. “I meant Master Jinora.”

“Tenzin’s daughter? The eleven-year-old?”

Ojas guffawed. “This is shaping up to be one great plan, kiddo. You and Saruki would make a fine team.”

“It’s ‘Sarika’,” the planner offered feebly. Asami ignored both of them. “Jinora served as the spiritual guide to the Avatar and knows more about these matters than anyone in the city. Any plan should be run past her, though I suspect she’d tell you what I did: the vines cannot be constrained. Any metal coil will only temporarily hold them. We need a plan that works around them.”

“How do I work around a vine in the middle of my Cabbage Corp?”

“I suppose I’ll simply tell my tenants to make do without running water in the heart of the Spirit Wilds?” Lekh fixed his steely gaze on her.

“Why don’t you leave this to the professionals?” Pukiq ran his hand through his greasy hair. “You may have palled around with the Avatar, but you’re hardly qualified for this. Heck, after nearly selling out to Varrick I’m wondering what you are qualified for.”

His words stung, but she refused to take the bait. Asami pushed the map towards Raiko and pointed at it. “The easiest and least obtrusive solution is elevated roads. With the proper design and construction, they’ll be perfectly sturdy, but will have space for the vines to grow and thrive underneath.”

“I’ve had enough.” Ojas slammed a fist down onto the table. “You call us here with a half-baked plan months after harmonic convergence, and now we have to sit and listen to Daddy’s-spoiled-little-princess? When you have something substantial to say, call us back. Or better yet, hold a press conference. I should have known nothing good would come out of a meeting with you when there’s no photographers present.”

Raiko looked like a vein in his temple might burst. “I am doing the best I can here. I didn’t ask for the Spirit Portals to be opened! I can’t come up with a solution that benefits every single person in this city! I was hoping the world’s most influential business leaders would be a bit more reasonable and maybe understand that we all have to sacrifice something. But this meeting has made clear to me that you’d all rather behave like petulant children than work towards a solution. I want you all out!”

He’s overcompensating, Asami realized. Lekh seemed to share the thought. “Well, these histrionics were entertaining as usual, Raiko, but I do hope the next time there’s a meeting you have something actionable.” He collected his papers and turned towards the door. “When it comes time for campaign contributions, none of us will forget this.” With that, Lekh strode out of the room. Somehow this signaled to everyone else to do the same. There was a sudden flurry of activity as the businessmen began gathering their belongings.

Asami sighed and began to walk back to where her things lay, trying to tune out Pukiq’s loud parting words to Samir. “You stay, Miss Sato,” Raiko said quietly as she passed him.

She pretended to shuffle through her purse as the room cleared. She felt Pukiq’s gaze linger on her, but he was gone soon enough. Raiko sank into a chair and rested his head against his fist. “That could have gone better,” he muttered in Sarika’s direction. "You need to practice how you speak. It sounded like you hadn't prepared at all." Raiko turned his eyes towards Asami. “Please, sit. I want to apologize for Ojas and Pukiq’s behavior.”

“You don’t need to,” Asami said immediately. “I’ve come to expect it.” Does that make me sound weak?

“What you were starting to say intrigued me, Miss Sato. However, it was my hope to be able to clear the vines out of the roads. Are you certain this cannot be done?”

“When it comes to matters of the spirits, I don’t think any of us can be certain. But I am sure that the spirit vines have a will of their own.”

“Mr. President,” said Sarika, looking more animated now that the room was nearly empty. “Based on what the benders told me, I think the only person in the world who would have the ability to get rid of the vines is The Avatar. And even she couldn’t find a solution.”

Raiko gave a curt nod before looking back at Asami. “You are friends with Korra. Is there any word on her recovery?”

She felt her stomach twist. “I’m afraid I know as much as you do.” Even if there had been news, her answer to Raiko would have been the same. The president had a very limited understanding of the situation, viewing Korra’s fractured state as a nuisance rather than a cause for concern. But his question still served as a painful reminder that a month had passed since her departure without any word back.

“Then we’ll have to move on,” Raiko declared. “Our solution can’t rely on The Avatar’s potential to deal with this matter.”

Perhaps you shouldn't have banished her in the first place if you were so worried. "As I said, Mr. President," she continued, keeping her voice even, "Master Jinora may have some insight that could prove fruitful. But the way I see it, we should attempt to intertwine our city with the vines. It’s a major engineering challenge, but I think one that can be accomplished with the proper designs."

"You mentioned raised roads," Sarika said. Asami turned to meet his gaze. The city planner blushed and dropped his eyes to the map still on the table in front of him. “I’ve never heard of that being done anywhere else. How could we ensure stability while also allowing for the vine growth underneath, like you mentioned?”

“They couldn’t be elevated with solid ramps. We’d have to design roads supported by pillars or columns. If built correctly, some vines could even help stabilize their bases. We’d need to look into specialized concrete with enough porosity to—”

“Miss Sato,” Raiko cut in, “I hate to interrupt innovation, but I’m not concerned with these minor details. What I am concerned about is the Spirit Wilds. How can we rebuild our city when a full sector of it has been rendered useless by the vines? You yourself said they cannot be constrained, so what’s the technological solution to this problem?”

She looked from Raiko to Sarika. I can’t afford to upset him, she thought. But everything about his approach is wrong. “Mr. President, I am concerned...” Asami stopped and instinctively raised her hand to her chin as she thought how to word it. “These vines, they present an opportunity, one that I think we’d be smart to capitalize on. We’re in a new age. The Spirit Portals are open and the water tribes are seeing a sharp rise in tourism as a result. Yet here in Republic City, in the center of our world, we have spirits that harmoniously took up residence. This is potentially a huge attraction.”

Asami paused to look at Raiko, who was furrowing his brow. She could see Sarika’s widened eyes in her periphery. She continued, “Since her injury, along with Tenzin’s announcement of the nomadic airbenders’ return, Korra’s polling has been favorable. She was the one who decided our world’s spiritual fate. We should champion that decision, using her popularity as a springboard. Republic City is home to The Avatar, as well as the new airbenders. We can brand ourselves as the city of this new spiritual age. The vines are staying, as well as the spirits that moved in. And that happened when Korra fought the spirit of darkness on our doorstop. The sooner we learn to embrace spirits settling in our city, the better. We can even use the Earth Kingdom’s disarray as a call-to-action, to explain to our citizens why now is an important time to invest in our infrastructure and position ourselves as the unique and forward-thinking metropolis.” She felt heat in her face, though she knew neither man would understand why. She made sure to keep her gaze directed at the president.

Raiko sat down in his chair, thinking. Asami jumped slightly when Sarika’s voice broke the silence. “This still would mean the businesses and homes in the Spirit Wilds need to be abandoned, right?”

“Yes…” Asami contemplated that point for a second. “Though some could be repurposed, maybe turned into gift shops, for example. The city could offer to buy the buildings from their owners within the wilds, or allow the owners to invest and get a percentage of revenue earned from the new tourism. The increase in visitors would help local business owners anyway.”

“This is a bold plan,” Raiko began. “I normally dislike that kind of risk, but I don’t see another path forward right now. And if we don’t try something soon...well...” he suddenly stopped talking, then gave a forced cough to fill the sudden silence. If you don’t propose something your polling will be so low there will be talks of impeachment, Asami completed in her mind. Raiko continued. “It seems clear to me that this is a major undertaking. Miss Sato, how would you feel in helping us with the redesign? My office could offer Future Industries an exclusive contract to work on the infrastructure. You would be working closely with Sarika, as well as Chief Beifong to develop an actionable plan.”

Asami could almost hear her father’s words in her head. “City planners are small men with smaller minds, too in love with their own red tape to see the real potential.” She felt a smile creep up the corners of her lips. If only you could see me now, dad. Doing exactly what you wouldn’t. “I’d be honored.”

Chapter Text

It all comes back to the obstructions in the Financial District. Asami’s mind was wandering back to her morning meeting with Sarika, as it had been for the past few hours. She would have loved nothing more than to lock the door to her office and focus on the maps, but her back-to-back meetings denied her that luxury. Asami managed to give her CFO, Shoji, enough of her attention in the previous hour. Yet now she was finding the PR meeting less captivating. We might have to split lanes in the heart of it, but what if someone heading westbound needs to turn left? As she pictured the roads in her mind, Asami was only dimly aware of her new publicist sitting on the other side of the desk.

Ginni was a year older than Asami, cousins to a former school friend. She proved to be a sharp interviewee, offering a few solid suggestions for Future Industries’ marketing strategy. She had begun last week, but this was their first strategizing session. At the start of the meeting, Asami had offered all the pleasantries required, but as soon as the publicist began talking about advertising theory, Asami’s mind had drifted far away. Would a roundabout work?

Ginni’s voice cut through. “…so then with Pukiq as your partner, that would enable us to—“

“Wait, what?” It had taken a couple of seconds for Asami’s brain to register the words. “I will never partner with Pukiq.”

 “Ah, so you can hear me. I was starting to worry,” Ginni responded, dryly.

 “I’m sorry. I’m…distracted. I know there has to be some way for me to figure out this one road, it’s just...” Asami’s voice trailed off.

 “A roadblock?” The publicist arched an eyebrow over her wire-rimmed glasses. Her short, brown hair was neatly kept, stylishly flipping out at the bottom, and she wore a freshly pressed navy suit. Yet her continual smirk clashed with her austere attire. You can tell there’s always something going on behind those eyes, Asami thought. It was one of the main reasons she had offered Ginni the job. 

“I am sorry," Asami said earnestly. "It’s this infrastructure project.”

Ginni held up a hand. “I know, I know, and it’s a darn good thing you landed it. I can use that.” She leaned back in her seat, crossing her left leg over her right. “As your CFO just finished telling you, this contract, plus your airship and mech-suit sales, make Future Industries fiscally solvent for the short-term. Great. But it’s the long-term that worries me. I know this stuff isn’t so stimulating for that brilliant engineering mind of yours, Miss Sato, but I need you to hear me out. Or at the very least reprimand me for my horrible puns.”

 “'Asami' is fine. You have my attention, I promise.” Asami held back her ‘roadblock’ rejoinder.

“Well that’s a relief.” Ginni adjusted her glasses. “To be blunt, the problem is still your father.”

Asami felt her throat tighten. She absentmindedly fidgeted with a pen on her desk. “My father hasn’t been in control of this company for a year now.” Has it only been a year ?

Ginni interrupted her mental calculations. “Yes, and yet ‘Future Industries’ is still associated with ‘that guy who backed that bloodbending terrorist.’” She provided air-quotes as she spoke. 

Also ‘that guy who attacked his daughter.’ After hiding everything. Asami felt the anger bubbling inside of her. “Did everyone happen to miss the news of his arrest?” She asked, stiffly.

The publicist considered Asami, slightly cocking her head to one side. “It’s well-known you’re running the company now,” she began slowly. “The trouble is, no one knows what that means. Since Hiroshi's imprisonment, people have been scared off of Future Industries’ consumer goods. So you've turned to your military tech to keep your company afloat.” If you can’t make money off of war, you just flat out cannot make money. Ginni continued, “Then you briefly partnered with another industrialist who was arrested for trying to kidnap the president.”

“I did what I had to do,” Asami objected. “I’m not proud of the deal I made with Varrick, but if it hadn’t been for his capital and arrangement of sales, there would be no Future Industries now.”

“…yes, you did. And I understand that. But you can see how this looks to the public, right?” Ginni didn’t wait for a response. "It's not all bad. You sold some airships and biplanes overseas, and you managed to persuade the city to buy your mecha-tanks, which are in demand due to the destruction that dark spirity guy caused.”

Asami nodded. “Unalaq. Or I guess Unavaatu when he came here.”

“Right, so you’ve had that as a solid source of income, plus some extra mecha-tank sales, thanks to the instability in the Earth Kingdom.”

Asami furrowed her brow. “The local leaders are dealing with bandits now. The technology is in demand. And Cabbage Corp no longer has a monopoly there.” She couldn’t help but feel guilty about benefiting from the Earth Queen’s demise. But not selling her products wouldn’t help the situation either. If the reports from the airbenders were to be believed, the Earth Kingdom was in dire need of any supplies. 

Ginni nodded. “Mhm, so that’s the thing. You’ve been keeping your company afloat almost entirely with military technology. Yeah, you have the luxury airships and cars that a handful of wealthy citizens buy. But they’re mostly collectors; in other words, few and far between. We don’t want your brand to seem elitist.”

Asami bristled at the word. “I’m not elitist! People haven’t wanted to buy standard Satomobiles since my dad was exposed, so I’ve made the sales I can.”

“I know that.” Ginni placed a hand on the desk in between them, her palm facing the ceiling. “I’m not trying to say you did anything wrong. I’m trying to explain how these decisions have influenced public perception, and why you haven’t been able to shake of the stigma of Hiroshi.”

A silence fell. Asami sat back, suddenly feeling drained. All I wanted to do today was draw the maps, not reflect on more ways Dad managed to ruin everything. She sighed. “All things being equal, I’d rather not be making money off of mostly military tech either. I’ve even been tinkering with designs on the cars again. I think I might be able to separate the suspension system so the front wheels are independent of each other, which—“

“I have no idea what any of that means,” Ginni interrupted, picking her hand up and waving it. “But that’s great. Really, it is. You’re definitely going to need to continually innovate those new consumer goods. Between quality products and the about-face I'm going to give to your company's image, anything made by Future Industries will be flying off the shelves in no time.”

“An about-face? It's that bad?”

Ginni’s smirk almost looked like a genuine smile for a second. “Asami, there’s a lot going for you. Landing that infrastructure project was huge. We’re going to make it the cornerstone of this PR campaign. The problem isn’t that you’re like your father, it’s that people don’t know you. No one will buy Satomobiles because of past Equalist ties? Well you’ve spent the past year running around, helping the Avatar! And luckily for both of us she’s back in the public’s favor.”

Asami abruptly dropped the pen she was still holding, but Ginni continued, not noticing. “And now you’re working day and night to fix up Republic City? That is huge! Not to mention you’ve done this all by the age of 20. Your story needs to be told!” Ginni reached down and pulled a notebook out of her bag. She flipped open to page full of writing. “We need more photo-ops. Maybe something when you’re surveying the streets. Oh, and it wouldn’t hurt to show how Future Industries is committed to justice. We need to keep our ears to the ground for pro-bono opportunities. Maybe some kind of tech you can give to an Earth Kingdom state in need. My goal is to have your face plastered in every paper in this city. And it doesn’t hurt that your face is about as darn marketable as they come…that’ll play well…”

Asami’s eyes narrowed at the comment. “I’m fine with the idea of articles that focus on my work. And I’m happy to hold a press conference to explain the infrastructure project and Future Industry’s role. But I’d rather the focus wasn’t on my face.”

Ginni gave a half-hearted shrug. “You may not want to focus on that, but they will. Which actually leads me to my next point. The image of you that I’m trying to paint is of a very moral businesswoman, whose accomplishments are remarkable given her age.”

“Paint? You say that like it’s untrue,” Asami said, feeling oddly offended by Ginni’s tone.

“Asami, anyone who spends more than 2 seconds talking to you is going to see how impressive you are. Of course what I said is true. But public perception isn’t about truth.” Ginni stopped smirking, looking slightly hesitant. “And well…while you are quite the engineer who is also successful industrialist…I’m afraid your look conveys something else.”

Asami raised an eyebrow. “My look.”

Ginni gestured towards her. “Your suit gives off of a youthful vibe, especially coupled with your hair down. You seem...green.” Asami shifted in her seat, thinking of Ojas’s quip about ‘Daddy’s spoiled little princess.’ The publicist sat back slightly and continued, “I’m not saying you need to do anything drastic. Just tie the hair back; looks much more professional. Or maybe get shorter boots.”

“I can pick a lock with this hairclip.” Asami had been trying to lighten the mood, but Ginni simply looked flipped to another page in her notebook. More suggestions? Asami rolled her eyes. “I wonder if Lau Gan-Lan has to talk to his publicist about his look.”

Ginni gave her a searching look. “Of course not. And I’m sure at some point we’ll discuss the injustice of it all over sake. But until then—“

“Don't wear my hair down, fine,” Asami said, waving a hand. I tie it back in the shop anyway. 

“And don't forget about the pro-bono thing,” Ginni said, nodding. “Your PR campaign starts today. I’ll keep you briefed on your meetings with the press. In return, let me know about anything you see that could affect your image—for better or for worse. We need your name to be as well recognized as your company. Within a month, I want everyone in the city knowing that Asami Sato is nothing like the father.”

Chapter Text

“...and I know I speak for all of us when I say that things will be a little more somber without Bolin here. You’ll certainly be missed.” Tenzin raised his glass of lychee juice and everyone else followed suit. "To Bolin!"

The airbending master took his seat at the head of the long rectangular table, but all eyes were on the young earthbender and the other end. Bolin looked around, beaming. “Wow, just—thanks everyone! Especially Tenzin and Pema for hosting this, and inviting all my friends, and cooking all my favorite—” he quickly glanced around. “steamed...vegetables.” Asami suppressed a laugh. She glanced to her right to see the corners of Mako’s mouth twitching. “I’m going to miss everyone so much, but the opportunity to help out in the Earth Kingdom is too good to pass up.” Bolin looked to his left where Opal was pointedly staring at her lap. “Mako and I were in Ba Sing Se when it fell—“

“Bless the Earth Queen,” Grandma Lin called out.

“Grandma, Bolin’s saying stuff!” Tu corrected.

“No no, it’s okay Grandma. I just meant that after seeing all that destruction, and chaos, and people stealing radios...I feel like I have to fix it.” Opal folded her arms, her scowl, unmoving. Bolin let out a nervous chuckle and awkwardly continued. “It’ll be just like another Nuktuk adventure! Except this time instead of fighting Unalaq and a doomsday device, I’ll be fighting roving packs of bandits and desperate hungry people. Okay, maybe it’s nothing like that.”

“Oh no,” Mako murmured to Asami. “He’s starting to ramble.”

Bolin continued. “But of course, Varrick will be there so maybe he can get some footage.” Opal audibly coughed. “Oh, right. Yeah. Just thank you everyone. I’ll be sure to write as often as I can. And thank you Ikki, for volunteering to take care of Pabu while I’m gone.”

Ikki squealed and held up the fire ferret that had been comfortably resting in her lap moments before. Pabu, confused with the sudden movement, twisted out of her grip and hopped down onto the floor.

“Does that rat-thingy need to be at the table right now?” Grandma Yin asked, with a disapproving frown.

“I’ll get him back for you, sister!” Meelo shouted, leaping up. Pema laughed.

“Meelo sit down!" Tenzin exclaimed. "Pabu will come back when he wants to!” Asami heard Kai snicker on her left. Jinora let out an audible sigh.

“Bro, maybe you should wrap it up?” Mako called towards Bolin.

“Right right. We’ll say our goodbyes later, I’m sure. Let’s eat! Oh wait…Tenzin are you supposed to give that order?”

“Only you’re giving the orders today, Bolin,” Pema called, shifting Rohan from one arm to the other.

“Well the man said to eat!” Meelo shouted, reaching for the steamed buns. The room was suddenly full of the clatter of dishes.

Asami turned away from Kai, towards Mako, Opal, and Bolin. "So what's the plan?" she asked. "Are you heading straight for Ba Sing Se?"

Bolin choked down the large amount of food that had already found its way into his mouth. "I pfftnk so." Small chunks of carrots sprayed the table in front of him. "Well Kuvira's team is almost there. They got a head start out of Zaofu. I think the plan is that those of us coming from the United Republic and the Fire Nation are going to act as a second wave, or something like that."

Mako nodded. "Kuvira and the security force should have the situation mostly under control by then, from the sounds of it," he remarked. Opal gave an audible "humph" and slumped even further in her seat.

Asami tried to cut the tension. "What makes you say that, Mako?"

"When Bolin and I were there, it was mostly chaos and desperate looters. I think just having an authority figure may be enough end the worst of it. Someone who they know will hold them accountable."

Bolin gave Opal a worried look before saying "that makes sense I guess. I'm actually hoping I don't have to do too much fighting. That's not why I wanted to join."

"Under Kuvira that's no guarantee, apparently," Opal snapped.

Bolin looked from his brother to Asami in mute appeal. She was about to help him out when Mako tried. "Kuvira was the head of security for Zaofu. And she helped us against the Red Lotus. I'm sure she has good intentions."

"What good intentions could she have had when she turned everyone against my mom?!" Opal's eyes flashed dangerously.

Asami could feel Mako stiffen next to her. This could get ugly. "It sounds like it was insensitive on her part. But given how skilled Zaofu's security team is, maybe Raiko thought it would make sense for the metalbenders to join her ranks."

"That was all Kuvira!" Opal insisted. "She was already the captain of the guards; she gave the orders and they followed. Because of that, Zaofu’s wealthier citizens felt safer going with her. Kuvira even managed to get my brother on her side.” Angry tears were forming in Opal's eyes. "I've never seen my mom so upset before…she was devastated."

In a mind's eye Asami pictured just how "devastated" Suyin Beifong has seemed upon learning about Aiwei's betrayal: asking Korra to hunt him down so she could deal with him personally. This is the whole clan, though.

"Opal..." Bolin sounded like he was pleading now. "I don't like that either, but someone needs to be in Kuvira's role. I mean, if Korra was okay we'd all be heading to Ba Sing Se right now, wouldn't we?" Asami felt her heart rate quicken.

Opal stood up. "Korra has the authority! She's the Avatar and that's her role! Kuvira is just out for herself. And her treatment of my mom should have made that clear to you!" With that Opal turned and stormed out. It was only then that Asami became acutely aware of the quietness that had overtaken the room. Half the table was now staring at Bolin, and the other half at their food, awkwardly pretending not to have noticed the disturbance.

Asami rose. "Bolin, let me try talking to her." She rounded the table and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He nodded. “Thanks. I already have, but everything I say seems to upset her more.”

Tu’s voice rang out from the other side of the table. “You shoulda asked me, cuz! I have a way with the ladies.” Asami heard Mako groan. She chose to leave the room before Tu could offer any of his sage advice.

Opal was standing outside in the practice yard, staring at the water. She didn’t move at Asami’s approaching footsteps, but instead gave a stiff, "Bolin, I need a minute."

"It's just me," said Asami, quietly.

Opal turned, a sad expression on her face. "Oh no, did everyone hear?"

Asami hesitated. "Opal, we all know this isn't easy for you."

"I'm just so mad at her..." Opal closed her eyes for a moment. "It would have been one thing if Kuvira had simply accepted Raiko’s offer but she—she humiliated my mom."

Asam folded her arms and looked across the water towards the city. “None of us are happy with how this played out, Opal.” She glanced back to study the young airbender’s face. “I don’t know Kuvira, and I can’t speak for your family. But I do think at the core, everyone just wants what’s best for the Earth Kingdom—Bolin included.”

Opal nodded before speaking. “It’s just—if it weren’t for Baatar leaving too. I can’t believe him. And none of us saw it coming.”

Asami hadn’t seen much of Suyin’s firstborn in Zaofu. She vaguely recalled a hunched over boy in glasses, but hadnt paid him any mind. She couldn’t even remember if he had been at the table during Opal’s farewell dinner. It’s always the ones you don’t suspect. “That sounds difficult,” Asami began. “You may not have realized, but I know what it’s like to have a family member do something shocking…pick a side that you can never understand.”

Opal’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m sorry, I did know that. I hope you don’t think I was being rude...”

“No, of course not.” Asami looked away again. She heard herself continue to speak, but her voice sounded far off. “I’ll never understand what my father did. I don’t see how anyone could have agreed with the Equalists.” I am avenging her death!! Asami shook the thought from her mind. “But,” she started, choosing her words carefully. “I think I can at least see where your brother and Kuvira are coming from. I’m not saying what they did wasn’t hurtful or insensitive. But I do think they want to help...bring peace to the Earth Kingdom. And I know that’s what Bolin wants.”

“You’re right,” Opal said after a moment. “Or at least, I shouldn’t be giving Bolin a hard time about it. Not tonight, not when he’s leaving.” She smiled at Asami, but then suddenly looked past her. Asami turned around to see Pema emerging from the house.

“Hi girls,” she said, nonchalantly. “Just wanted to make sure everything was okay out here?”

Opal gave a feeble smile. “It’s fine. Sorry, I think—I think I need to apologize to Bolin.” She began to walk towards the door, when she called over her shoulder, “...thanks.”

The two nonbenders were left alone. “Well glad to see I was a big help,” Pema said dryly.  

Asami smiled. “I think Opal just needs some time to process the changes with her family.”

“Suyin runs a tight ship there,” Pema said with a shrug. “I couldn’t believe it when Tenzin told me what happened in Zaofu. With her turning down the offer, I mean. I always thought she seemed like someone who thrives as a leader.”

Asami considered that for a moment. “Well Suyin definitely prided herself on leading the metal clan. But she said that kings and queens were outdated. Maybe she’s just opposed to that much power.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. At least something is being done now.”

Asami nodded. “How are things going for you? It’s weird not to be living here anymore.”

With all the new airbenders, the island was a full to capacity. Though no one ever said anything to make her feel unwelcome, ever since Korra’s departure four months ago, it increasingly seemed as if Asami's continued presence was a nuisance. The now bustling temple also made it difficult for her to focus on work, causing Asami to spend longer and longer hours in her office. Two weeks prior, she made the decision to move back to her father’s mansion.

Pema sighed. “It’s busy as always,” she said. “Otaku’s missed you at breakfast; no one else is as content to talk about the news of the day with him.” Pema leaned in before continuing. “Truth be told, we’re a little bit overwhelmed. Since Tenzin announced that the airbenders would be serving all nations and no longer stay in temples, more and more new benders have become interested in receiving training. Some are even bringing their families!”

“That sounds stressful,” Asami commented.

“Well, the real stress is about silly little things: we don’t have enough trained bison, the new recruits are breaking gliders faster than the acolytes can replace them, and with the Earth Kingdom in disarray our food supplies tend to run low.”

Asami raised an eyebrow. “Those aren’t ‘little things,’” she pointed out.

Pema shrugged. “It’s no worse than what anyone’s dealing with now. Between you and me I hope Kuvira is darn effective, even if it’s uncomfortable for Opal.” She waved an arm. “Come on, let’s head back inside.”

Back in the dining hall, Asami took her seat beside Mako. She noticed that Bolin and Opal were holding hands. Good.

Mako turned towards Asami. “What did Pema want?”

“Just to check up on us.” Asami dropped her voice. “Actually, once Opal left, she talked to me about how stressful it is with all the new benders here. I guess there’s going to be a bit of an adjustment period for them. It must be weird to have gone from a family of five to an entire nation.”

Mako oddly squirmed in his seat and nodded curtly, before turning his attention back to his food.

“Asami!” Jinora was leaning across Kai to speak. “Has President Raiko come around at all since I presented?”

Two weeks before, Asami had asked Jinora to join her in a meeting with Sarika and Raiko to discuss the vines. The young airbender had reiterated Asami’s assertions about the inability to constrain them, even when Sarika proposed using flexible material. Still, Jinora had proven to be quite helpful, pointing out that the way the vines grew often mirrored trees. Both Asami and Sarika were thrilled with that information, eager to create better projection drawings. Raiko, however, had spent most of the meeting in a huff after hearing yet again that the vines couldn’t be cleared. Shortly after he left for Zaofu, but since his return a few days ago, it was clear that his mood had hardly improved.

Asami shook her head slightly. “Unfortunately the plan didn’t do too well in test polling. I think he’s a bit hesitant to talk to the public about it now.”

Kai looked up. “Who cares how it polls? All that matters is how it works,” he asked.

The whole table was now listening. Ikki piped up with, “but if it’s a good plan then shouldn’t it poll well?”

“Well Ikki,” Tenzin said, sagely stroking his beard. “Unfortunately it is difficult for people to support something that will be beneficial in the long-term, when it requires short-term sacrifices.”

“But it sounds like there’s no short-term solutions either,” Mako insisted. “What other choice does Raiko have?”

Jinora was looking upset now. “There is no other solution,” she said, solemnly. “The vines aren’t even a problem. We have to learn to live with them.”

Chow nodded, adding, “Then someone needs to tell the public that. The problem with the Queen was that we never knew what was going on.”

“Oh Chow!” Grandma Yin looked scandalized. “How can you speak ill of the dead?”

“Someone should tell the public,” Jinora agreed. “And I think it should be me.”

“Jinora, no!” Tenzin said, firmly.

“But Dad,” she protested. “The President needs to support this plan.” Jinora turned to Asami. “Wouldn’t it help you and Sarika if I spoke at a press conference?”

Yes, Asami thought. But before she could say anything Tenzin’s voice rang out, sterner than before. “I don’t want you speaking to the press. You don’t understand how they can be. Remember what happened to Korra?”

Meelo looked from his dad to Jinora. “What does that have to do with the press?”

Pema put a hand on Meelo’s arm and explained. “I think your dad means when Korra got tricked into joining that task force back at Tarrlok’s gala.”

Jinora sounded close to tears. “What task force is anyone going to be asking me to join? Dad, I can handle this. I am a master now.”

“Don’t worry, Jinora,” Ikki said. “Once Korra is healed she can speak to the press and everyone will listen to her!”

“Isn’t she in a wheelchair?” Grandma Yin called.

“Mom!” Chow was looking embarrassed. The room stilled.

Meelo cut the tension. “I need more juice!”

Asami stood quickly and felt a rush of blood to her head. “I’ll get it,” she offered. She noticed Mako made a motion as if to rise as well, but thought better of it. Bolin was speaking now, likely making a joke, but Asami wasn’t listening. She headed out of the hall feeling dizzy.

Once in the kitchen, she leaned against the sink. This is some farewell dinner . The pitcher of lychee juice sat on the counter. Asami realized she never even grabbed Meelo’s glass. She found a spare in the cabinet and slowly filled it. I need to get it together, she thought. She was just about to prepare herself to enter the dining hall again when Tenzin walked into the kitchen.

“Asami,” he said urgently. “I don’t want Jinora to speak at a press conference.”

“I know, Tenzin,” Asami said in a tired voice. “I don’t want her to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

He seemed slightly taken aback. “Well, it’s—it’s not that I’m uncomfortable. I just don’t want to see my daughter exploited. She doesn’t understand how these things can be.”

Asami remembered Korra’s dejected face after her last press conference. “That’s probably for the best,” she agreed. “The fact is, Kai was right. The polling shouldn't matter, and I do think Raiko knows that there’s no alternative.”

“Yes...well. Good. Perhaps if it would help, I could even speak to the president?”

He’s never listened to you before. “Thank you. I think Sarika and I have mostly convinced him for now though,” Asami said. “But we can talk about this some other time. Let’s try and keep tonight about Bolin.”

A hush fell over the kitchen. The airbender fidgeted with his robes before awkwardly saying, “so...shall we head back?”

Asami watched his cape slowly fall back into place, barely realizing a question had been raised. “I—what?” She looked up at Tenzin. “Actually, now that you’re here...outside, Pema told me you have a shortage of gliders?”

“A temporary hiccup,” he replied. “Once the new airbenders are fully trained, there should be fewer accidents.”

“But there might be more benders who come along,” Asami insisted. “Tenzin, the reason I ask is that I’ve been experimenting with fabrics the past couple of months. Originally I thought that maybe something other than metal could constrain the vines—something more flexible.” She glanced up to make sure Tenzin was still listening. “That didn’t work out, but I think I might be able to design some sort of glider that you could wear. Like…like a wingsuit of sorts.”

Tenzin’s hand flew automatically to his beard. “That is interesting—and it would be helpful if we didn’t need our staves.”

She nodded. “Right, you control the air currents around the glider wings right now. I don’t see why you couldn’t do that for some type of fabric that you wear.”

“That sounds wonderful, Asami,” he said. “But unfortunately I don’t think we can afford this right now. Our resources are low as it is."

“Oh, I’d do this for free,” Asami said at once. He looked surprised, so she continued. “After everything the airbenders do for the world, this would be a great way to give back.” And a great way to get Ginni off my back. The publicist had been hounding her to find pro-bono work since their first meeting three months ago, and to have something to silence her on the matter would be a relief. Asami chose not to mention this to Tenzin.

His face lit up. “I’m honored you feel that way.”

She felt a pang of guilt. You do mean it, even if it also helps your image. “Well we can talk about this later, too,” she said, gesturing with the juice towards the doorway.

They took two steps into the hall when Bolin found them. “Oh hi guys,” he said. “Uhh—I actually wanted to talk to Asami?”

Tenzin gave Bolin an inquisitive look. “I’ll take the juice to Meelo,” he said, taking the glass from her hands and heading towards the dining hall.

Asami arched an eyebrow at Bolin. “What is it?”

“Oh...I was just thinking about stuff,”  he said, awkwardly gesturing with his hands. For a split second Asami was reminded of Korra. “You know,” Bolin suddenly began talking in a strange accent. “—I’m leaving. You’ll be here. But like doing your things...in your business lady house, and—“

Asami put a hand on his shoulder. “Bolin, just tell me what’s going on.”

When he spoke again his voice was back to normal. “Well, with all the airbenders on the island now, it seems like my family is a big burden. It was okay with me staying here too, but...” he sighed. “It's just that they still haven’t really found jobs. It's hard for them, especially with the city still a mess. But they can't stay here forever. So we were thinking, well—you can say ‘no,’ of course. But would it be possible if...“

“...if your family comes to live at the mansion?” Asami finished. “Bolin, of course that’s okay.”

Bolin’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes.” It’s not like I’m comfortable there anyway. Asami hesitated for a minute, suddenly understanding. “Did Mako ask you to talk to me?”

“He might have...” Bolin avoided her eye contact.

“Well, don’t worry about it. They’re welcome. I’ll make sure to get them settled in sometime this week.”

Bolin pulled her into a crushing hug. “Thanks Asami! I knew you were the greatest!” When they broke a part, he suddenly looked sad. “I’m going to miss you. Are you going to be okay on your own?”

Asami gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’ve been on my own, Bolin.”

“No, but you know what I mean. You’re not on the island anymore, Mako’s always working, Korra’s not back yet.”

She looked away. “Then it’s a good thing I’ll have Grandma Yin to keep me company.” Asami forced herself to give a smile.

Bolin nodded. “Just be sure to write to me. I promise I write back.”

Their eyes met. “It’s only been a few months,” Asami said.

“I’m just getting really worried about her,” he insisted. “I know Tenzin is hearing from both his mom and Tonraq, so we’d know about anything really bad...but I can’t help it.”

“Me either.” She pictured Korra on the docks. I’ll only be gone a couple of weeks. Asami inhaled deeply. “Let’s head back, we need to give you a proper send-off. And break the good news to your family.” 

The next day, it was only Opal and Mako who escorted Bolin to the train station. Asami spent the morning tied up in meetings, doodling wingsuit designs on her papers. She would have liked to have seen her friend one last time, but it was okay. People leaving was nothing new to Asami, and at least Bolin would write back.

Chapter Text

Asami stood gazing up at the pale, white skyscraper, its top nowhere in sight. Even though her feet were firmly planted on the ground, she couldn’t help but feel slightly dizzy.

Lekh stood beside her, quietly detailing the specifics. “Eight hundred and fifty thousand square feet, forty-three stories, twelve with double-height ceilings ideal for mechanical research and development, base floors ideal for offices, heart of the financial sector, and most importantly...vine-free.” He couldn’t quite keep the acid out of his voice with the last two words. Asami turned to face the real estate mogul. Everything about Lekh was grey—his short, receding hair, his suit, his eyes. Together, it gave the effect that he was completely lacking in body heat.

He turned his head to consider Asami. After a moment he spoke again. “Miss Sato, I am happy to do business with anyone, and the recent revival of Satomobiles on the market has been notable. But are you certain this building is not...premature?”

Asami chose her words carefully. “I’m expanding. My CFO was comfortable with the asking price.” Shoji had given her a warning about providing specifics, not that she needed to hear it.

Lekh’s face remained indifferent. “If you say so.” he gestured toward the front door. “Let me show you the interior.”

They stepped inside to an impressive atrium. Even without the lamps switched on, there was ample light provided by the building’s many windows. Daruka will be pleased , she thought. Only a day earlier the lawyer agreed to become a subtenant in the tower’s lower floors, assuming Asami chose to buy.

“Will you be moving your personal office here, Miss Sato, or will you continue to use the one located in your downtown factory?”

“I was planning to move it here,” she said, almost at once. “If it’s suitable, of course.”

Even though her office in the main Future Industries factory held a few too many bad memories for comfort, Asami’s main issue with it was its increasing impracticality. Thanks to the infrastructure project becoming more complex by the day, after just one hour of work she could easily cover all available desk space with her drawings. Asami had lately taken to working on the floor as a solution, surrounding herself with papers. Ginni caught her doing that one day, and Asami could still hear the warning in her ears. “What if I was a fellow business man or an important client looking to make a deal? This is hardly the image we’re going for!”

Lekh’s steely tones cut the memory short. “A wise decision. While it may be befitting for Ojas to hold his meetings in the industrial sector of the city, your brand seems more...complex.” Does he mean that as a compliment or an insult ? He continued, “The best office space would probably be around the twenty-ninth story. High enough for prestige, but still under the floors designed for manufacturing.”

“No.” Asami interrupted. “I need to be able to actively prototype in my office. I was actually hoping to have a double-ceilinged level to myself. I can designate a space for more formal meetings.”

Lekh raised his eyebrows. “Forgive me, I was unaware you personally built any of your prototypes.” He paused, but when Asami offered no remark, continued. “The forty-second story may be to your liking then. It has a raised observation deck, which could be easily repurposed into a more formal office.”

“And the forty-third story? What we had talked about earlier?” Asami prodded.

He nodded. “Yes, we can happily adapt the top floor into a penthouse apartment. A very good call, having space for a COO, or perhaps CTO in your case, to be on-site at all times.”

Asami didn’t feel the need to correct him. “Perfect. Let’s take a look then.”

Lekh gestured towards an elevator. He pushed a button and the doors slid open, allowing them to both climb in. “This a gearless, traction elevator,” he remarked. “State of the art, though perhaps you understand the specifics better than I do. We’ll start with the forty-second story and visit the penthouse last.”

They lapsed into silence during the ride. Lekh stared at his papers, paying Asami no more mind than if she was part of the elevator itself. If everything checks out, we may be able to close this deal tomorrow . I could move in by next week .

Since returning to live in her father’s mansion over a month ago, Asami had barely slept. Being back on the estate had been a jarring experience her. She had kept her butler, Daisuke, in her employ. Asami knew he needed the job, and he kept place as tidy and well-run as ever. But even so, each room she entered managed to stir uncomfortable memories for her. She continually heard her father’s words in her head. Everything that had once seemed so innocent or funny suddenly had a dark cast to it. Even his Pai Sho advice about the value of slow and careful strategy now felt sinister. When Asami finally got up the nerve to enter his workshop, she almost burst into tears at the sight of the still exposed entrance to his underground warehouse and the memory of that day.

The one positive part of the mansion was her gym. It was a space that her father had never used. When Asami exercised, the world seemed to fall away. Sometimes when she was stuck on a particularly difficult design, she could think through the problem within the confines of the gym and leave with a clearer head. Yet there was only so much training Asami could do on her own, and leaving the room after a workout somehow managed to highlight the taint on the rest of the mansion.

Even in the rare moments where Asami was able to push the ghosts of her past from her mind, there was still Mako and Bolin’s family to contend with. Chow, Meng-Meng, and Big T had managed to find temporary jobs. But that only seemed to make the rest of the family even more comfortable loafing around all day. For the most part, they were considerate, though the small irritations such as the morning newspaper going missing or the hot water running out were beginning to add up.

To make matters worse, Grandma Yin insisted on taking over the kitchen, but didn’t know how any of the appliances worked. There had been more than a few accidents. She also developed the habit of yelling at Daisuke to continually check in with and make sure that no one was hungry. The poor butler was spending more and more of his time running around the mansion, trying to find every family member and often forgetting who he had already talked to. If Grandma Yin discovered someone had been overlooked, she would chastise Daisuke for the better part of an hour.

Compared to Tu though, Grandma Yin was well-behaved. Mako’s cousin didn’t like to be idle for long. Tu was continually pacing around the mansion, walking into random rooms or looking through the contents of desk drawers. Twice Asami had to speak to him about going into her dad’s old study, until she finally decided to lock it and hide the key. Yet all that was nothing compared to a week ago, when Tu had accidentally walked in on her changing. “I thought this was the library!” he insisted, even though Asami was fairly certain he couldn’t read. The next day she began looking for downtown real estate holdings.

The elevator lurched to a halt on the forty-second floor. The doors opened and Lekh motioned for Asami to step out. The space was everything she had hoped: large windows allowed for clear visibility across the room, and there was ample space for her work benches. The penthouse proved no less impressive. She told Lekh as much.

“We’ll have to reroute some of the plumbing,” he said. “We can put up walls in this corner to install a proper bathroom. I’m not sure much can be done about the exposed pipe work along the ceiling.”

“There’s no need to cover it.” Between the pipes, interior brick, and large windows, the penthouse almost looked like a factory floor.  I’ll feel right at home . These days it was only her engineering schematics that grounded her. And the best part about it, nothing here reminds me of my father .

Asami was sold on the tower, but she knew better than to agree to anything on the spot. Turning to Lekh, she said, “From what I can tell this space looks suitable for my needs. I’ll need to bring my CFO and attorney to review the papers, of course. Is there a time tomorrow when we could meet?”

Lekh fixed his hard eyes on Asami, sending a shiver down her spine. “Midday should be fine. I trust you know where my office is?” When she nodded, he made a mark on one of his papers and then shut the folder holding them. He looked up again, a guarded expression on his face. “Let me be frank, Miss Sato. I was disgusted by Hiroshi’s actions. It is a relief to know you do not share his...sentiments.”

For a mad second Asami fought the urge to defend her father. It’s just his tone . “I don’t see how anyone could share them,” she managed.

Lekh nodded curtly. “When you inherited the company and made the deal with Varrick Global, I was unimpressed. In my opinion you lucked out with his arrest and the judge’s ruling.”

Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe it. Asami forced her face to remain impassive. “I certainly am happier as the majority shareholder of my own company, but our partnership was necessary to keep Future Industries running at the time.”

Lekh’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So you say. I cannot speak to your bottom line. What I can say is that since then, you have demonstrated certain...skills. It looks like your company is making a comeback.” He stopped to gesture around him. “If this expansion is considered a sound investment by your CFO, then that is notable.”

Is this a negotiating strategy? “Thank you,” she answered, uncertainly.

He adjusted his tie, before saying, “The president, it would seem, has come to value you. Your infrastructure contract is unprecedented, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Asami found herself wishing he would look away. “I wasn’t quite aware of that, no. Then again, the spirit vines are unprecedented.”

“That much is true,” Lekh said, inclining his head slightly. “You have proven yourself to be a capable engineer, and I do not doubt you have the ability to work with the city planner on a solution. However, I am concerned if it is a solution that is agreeable to the business community at large.”

I should have known this was about the wilds . “I’m working on the only tenable solution I see,” she said, firmly.

“I am sure of that,” he agreed. “But my holdings in the spirit wilds are still unusable.”

Asami folded her arms. “That’s beyond the scope of my contract. I submitted a proposal that suggested spirit-tourism as a way to make the wilds profitable. But it’s up to Raiko and the city treasurer to make that decision. For now, my immediate task is to get our roadways and plumbing up and running in the habitable areas of the city.”

“This proposal—did it include a plan for compensation?”

Asami was liking his tone less and less by the second. “In broad terms. Financials are not my area of expertise.”

Lekh gave a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No, of course not. It was my hope, however, that you might be willing to...express the importance of this concern to the president. I am not alone in my frustration.”

Tell Raiko that he needs to make haste on a plan that will cost him money, what could go wrong ? “I’ll see what I can do,” she offered.

“Good.” He paused, then finally broke eye contact as he consulted a pocket-watch. “You must forgive me, I’m on a tight schedule today.”

The ride down the elevator was just as silent as the ride up had been, but once they reached the ground floor and stepped out, Lekh turned to face Asami. “I think we value the same things, Miss Sato.”

I sincerely doubt that. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Efficiency, logic, professionalism.” His grey eyes seemed to be gleaming suddenly. “I think it would be a shame if we did not value each other, as well.”

“I—think we do respect one another, sir,” Asami managed.

“For a certainty,” Lekh replied. “I meant that it may be beneficial for us to be allies. Look out for one another. The Business Council has a tendency to be a bit...unsavory at times. A friend can prove useful.”

Does this count as collusion? Asami wondered. She was unpleasantly reminded of her deal with the Triple Threats. “As long as we stick to our shared values, I—I don’t see a problem.”

Lekh nodded. “Good.” He turned toward the door. “Until tomorrow then, Miss Sato.”

Asami stayed in the atrium of what would be her new home for some time, pondering what (if anything) she had just agreed to. It’s just business. Nothing nefarious .

Chapter Text

Dear Korra, Asami silently concocted in her head, trying desperately to drown out the pompous babble spewing out of the man across the desk from her. Today I had to interview potential sales directors. The lot of them are enough to make Varrick seem like the picture of humility. She made herself focus back on Katsu.

The rather hyper thirty year-old was still describing his previous successes. “…so I sat him down and said, ‘look here. I know this better than you. In a few months the gopher bears will be in hibernation, and let me tell you, there is no good way to sniff them out. The supply of furs will be down, and the demand will be up. So you can either buy this stock now and make a sound investment, or you can pass on it and I’ll find someone who appreciates its value.’” Katsu paused and glanced in Asami and Shoji’s direction. Out of her periphery she saw her CFO’s painted smile beginning to fade. The interviewee continued. “So that’s what I think it’s all about. Finding those pressure points--the innovative solutions. Anticipating the market needs.”

“Yes,” Asami began. “Your resume certainly speaks for itself. What concerns me is your lack of technical knowledge. I think it would be difficult to predict market needs without a strong understanding of what Future Industries has to offer.” Shoji nodded in agreement.

Katsu broke into a large smile. “No see, that’s great for me! I love a challenge. I hate to think there’s something I don’t understand, and I’m always eager to learn. Sales is a fast-paced environment anyway, so you need to be able to process new information like that.” He snapped his fingers. Asami struggled to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Katsu continued, “But also a slight outside perspective might help, too. I can step back and see the bigger picture without getting caught in all of the jargon, you know?”

My entire point was that the jargon might be necessary. Before she could formulate how to word her response, Shoji cut in. “Then tell us, Katsu. What would you consider to be your biggest weakness?”

His answer sounded practiced. “I guess it’s kind of along those lines. I hate not knowing something or thinking that there’s something I could be doing to secure a sale that I’m not. So sometimes I have a bit too much of a dogged commitment to the task at hand. I wouldn’t say I get tunnel-vision, it's just that it can be hard for me to let something go.” Katsu stopped and gestured towards Asami. “But at the end of the day I always defer to the CEO, of course.”

Asami glanced towards Shoji, who gave her a slight nod. She smiled at Katsu. “Well, I think that just about covers everything we wanted to know,” she said. “Did you have any questions for us?”

“Not really. I had some prepared, but you and Shoji were very specific about expectations earlier.” Katsu sat forward slightly. “I do just want to say though, that I would consider it an honor to work here. I’ve been following you in the papers, Miss Sato, and I’m in awe of how much you’ve accomplished, and at so young! When I heard about the job opening, I thought I must have been dreaming.” He let out a chuckle, and Shoji followed suit.

“Thank you, Katsu. It’s certainly been a pleasure meeting with you,” she said warmly, rising and offering her hand. “We’ll be making our decision in the next few days, so you’ll hear from us soon.”

Katsu shook her hand and then Shoji’s, offering his polite goodbyes. Once he was out of the room, Asami turned towards her CFO. “He probably tells all potential employers it would be an honor to work for them, right?”

Shoji cocked his head slightly. “Probably. Though there are few your age who could boast of similar accomplishments.”

Asami lowered herself back into her chair. “Maybe, but he was selling himself, keep in mind.”

“I think he did a good job of that. He has the right level of experience that we were looking for. And you could always be present for any overly-technical meeting.”

“That’s true. But there was something about his demeanor that was off-putting,” Asami said, frowning. “I can’t see myself ever wanting to make a deal with him.”

Shoji considered that for a minute. The middle-aged CFO was rarely one to speak without thinking. Though not the most innovative or proactive individual, his understanding of the books was unparalleled, and Asami found his grasp on the business sector invaluable.

Finally, he spoke. “I think it’s important to keep in mind that the types of individuals a director of sales will meet with are going to be people like Pukiq, not you. Katsu isn’t the kind of person I’m friends with either. But he’s a tiger-shark. His tenacity does speak for itself, and that energy is quite respected in the business community.”

Asami remembered how impressed Varrick had been with Bolin simply for pointing out that he hadn’t been levitating. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said. “And I think he probably would do well here. He’s definitely qualified. Still, I hope you don’t think less of me for wanting one of our other candidates to be suitable as well.”

Shoji gave a small chuckle. “That might be a sentiment we share. But sadly this is the nature of sales. If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom before our next interview.” He rose.

“Would you mind sending Anju in?” she called after him. Before long the secretary appeared in the doorway.

 “You asked for me?”

 “Yes, how many more interviews are there today?” Asami asked.

 “Your next interview is in ten minutes,” Anju began. “Then you have a three-thirty and a five-thirty.”

Will this day ever end? Asami had spent the better part of the morning with three interviewees. Over lunch she had managed to look over material data sheets for synthetic fabric, but Katsu’s interview cut that brainstorming session short. She always found days like this irksome. At least a director of sales will be able to take some meetings off of my hands.

She thanked the secretary and watched her retreat back into the reception area. Anju had worked for Future Industries for ten years. Asami still remembered first meeting her. She had been completely enamored of the sixteen-year-old. “Dad, can she be like a big sister?” Asami had asked her father. Hiroshi laughed at that. “Well Anju has a very important job to take care of,” he had answered. “She makes sure that this company runs smoothly and that I’m where I need to be every day. I wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, would I?”

The memory suddenly made Asami feel sick. She had never thought to ask why her dad had hired someone so young. After a decade at the company the secretary was certainly competent, but Asami couldn’t help but wonder if the appeal of Anju had been that she was too young to question her father’s unsavory actions. There was a large part of Asami that would have loved to fire her, but she didn’t feel that was fair to the woman.

Ginni had framed it in a darker light when Asami confided her concern. “Bad idea, firing a secretary,” the publicist had warned. “They’re the ones with company secrets. For all you know she was complicit with the Equalist dealings.”

“I doubt that,” Asami had said.

“I’m telling you,” Ginni insisted. “Secretaries know things. Heck, there’s even a chance she was with your father.”

“My father wouldn’t have done that!” Even as the words had come out of her mouth, Asami realized how foolish they sounded. Just like he wouldn’t have supported the Equalists.

Ginni had given her a pitying look, before offering her final warning. “I’m just saying, a young, attractive woman hired as a widow’s secretary...it doesn’t look good, Asami. I’m probably wrong about all of it, but it’s not worth the risk. You’re better off keeping her happy. As long as she does her job well, it’s best not to rock the boat.”

That night Asami had fought a sudden madness to drive to the prison and demand the truth. “But how could I ever believe anything he’d say?” she had thought.

She was jarred back to the present when Anju reappeared in the doorway, looking frazzled. "Is something wrong?" Asami asked.

"There's someone here from Raiko's office to see you...a 'Sarika'? He said it was important."

Asami nodded. "Send him in. Apologize to whoever's next. If this goes longer than a half an hour try and reschedule for me. And let Shoji know too."

Anju left once more, and after a short moment Sarika came in, looking harried and carrying several rolled papers under his arm. Wherever he had come from, he had left his suit jacket behind. "Sarika," Asami said, not unkindly. "I'm confused; don't we have a meeting tomorrow afternoon? I thought we had left off in a good place the other day."

"That was before my conversation with Ojas." Sarika hesitated, as if not sure whether to sit in the chair opposite the industrialist or not. Instead he unceremoniously dropped his papers on top of Asami's desk and pointed towards one of the rolls. "Take a look."

Uncoiled, the paper showed the 43rd street ramp the two had spent hours meticulously designing. There was writing all over it, both Sarika's familiar scrawl as well as large, bold script Asami assumed to be Ojas's doing. Even his handwriting is ostentatious. She scanned the notes and looked up at Sarika, who was still awkwardly hovering. "So because of the porosity of the cement required for the suspended road, the ramp's angle needs to be reduced to safeguard against crack propagation?" she asked.

Sarika nodded. "And construction begins tomorrow morning if everything stays on-schedule. That's why I needed to come today, though I am sorry for interrupting your work."

"I'm not upset," Asami replied. "I've just been interviewing salesman. This process almost makes a meeting with Ojas seem preferable." She looked up and made herself smile, giving a cue for Sarika to laugh. He's still so reserved. Asami continued, looking back at the drawing. "So it looks like you re-sketched this upper segment?"

"Yes," he said, gesturing vaguely at the paper. "I thought if we can reduce the angle if we added two pillars there, and--"

 Asami stopped squinting and looked up. "Can you point to what you’re talking about?" She made a beckoning gesture. "There's writing all over this."

"Oh," he replied, flushing. "I sketched a few options I suppose." Sarika clumsily rounded the table, banging his hip in the process. He stood over Asami's shoulder once on the other side and placed a finger on a particularly messy portion of the drawing, tracing a line. "If we have it take a slightly more indirect route, we can reduce the angle without disrupting the ramp's placement."

"So you mean placing more pillars here and here?" As she moved her hand to the map, Sarika quickly withdrew his. Asami chose to ignore this.

"Yes, exactly." He gave her a sideways glance, waiting for a response.

Asami picked up a pen and turned it idly, thinking. At last she said, "Well we could do that, but I'm concerned about its longevity. Because it's both wending and suspended, normal wear and tear would probably require repairs...almost every year. Especially if we get a cold winter. We may be better off expanding the base slightly." She made a few quick lines of her own.

Sarika shook his head. "I thought about that, but what about the vines underneath? I thought we had decided a larger foundation would impinge their growth."

"We did...but that was assuming the presence of the ramp wouldn't alter its course, which Jinora explained wasn't the case." Asami lifted up a corner of the drawing and looked around her desk. "All my projection maps are on my workbench." As she rose, Sarika jumped back. "Come on," she said, grabbing the paper off the desk. "It will let you see the rest of my office, anyway."

She led the way to the door. Sarika looked around as if suddenly aware that he was in an unfamiliar room. "Your office is two stories?"

Asami opened the door revealing the metal staircase and her workroom below. "I needed space to design and prototype," she explained as they descended. "Sitting behind a desk is still a bit foreign to me."

"You'd never know it," Sarika offered. Asami glanced over her shoulder at the city planner, but he quickly dropped his eyes.

They approached the nearest workbench, which was covered in half-drawn maps. "So now when I show up with twenty pages of mockups, you'll know that I was actually holding back," Asami joked, placing Sarika's drawing on the top of the pile.

Sarika smiled. "It doesn't bother me." He cleared his throat before quickly asking, "What's that on your other bench?"

"Oh just a motor." She moved aside a couple of maps and drew a chart of vines from underneath. "I've been making some adjustments. Nothing fruitful yet, I'm afraid. Anyway here's what we came down here for." Asami placed the chart next to the sketches of the ramp, and sat down on a nearby stool.

Sarika dragged a stool next to her and sat as well, keeping his eyes on the charts the entire time. "There," he said, suddenly, tapping a drawing of a vine. "This one matches."

"Right, so then if we add a solid base to its left..." The two hunched over the pages, sketching and calculating for over an hour.

When all was said and done, Sarika sat up straight and rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. "Well once again, you're right. Extending the base it is."

Asami let out a small laugh. "It's not about being right. We've both composed more vine projection charts than I care to remember. Besides you did half the calculations here."

He almost let himself look pleased. "Ojas wanted a final look, but I doubt he'll take issue. He just provided the material properties anyway."

"Do you mind handling him alone again?" Asami knew meetings weren't Sarika’s strong suit. Yet when the two learned they'd need to meet with the manufacturer, she had more than prodded him to go without her. Ojas will never respect me. And who knows what comments he'd make if we both went together.

"No, I'll be fine." Sarika hesitated, looking suddenly nervous. "Actually, I'd prefer it. I didn't like how he was talking before...he was quite rude at that council meeting."

"He was rude to both of us," she pointed out.

Sarika half-shrugged. "Even so." Their eyes met.

He has a good face, Asami decided. If only it were as easy as recognizing that.

A loud bang by the top of the stairwell caused them both to jump. "Asami!" Tu's voice rang out clearly. The boy raced down the stairs, and stopped suddenly at the bottom, just noticing Sarika. "Woaahh, sorry there," Tu said.

Anju appeared at the top of the stairs, looking hassled. "Sir, as I said, Miss Sato is in a meeting and cannot be interrupted."

"But we're practically family!" Tu folded his arms. "Well I mean, I am living in her house."

Asami felt Sarika's questioning stare. "Anju, it's alright, we were just finishing up. What’s the status of the interviewees?"

Anju moved her eyes from Tu to Asami. "I rescheduled your 2pm as requested. But even so, your next appointment is in in a half an hour."

"That's fine, thank you," Asami replied. The secretary nodded and left the room. "Tu," she began. He was beginning to wander the room, which Asami knew was a dangerous game. "What are you doing here?"

Sarika rose. "Should I leave?"

You don't hav—" Asami began, but Tu interrupted.

"This was a business meeting?" He picked up a screwdriver lying near him and began twirling it around.

"This is the city planner," she responded, irritably.

"I'm Sarika," he said, offering a hand.

Tu strode forward but didn't shake. "I'm Tu. I'm Mako's cousin."

"Who?" Sarika looked to Asami.

"A friend." She shook her head. "Look, thank you for taking care of Ojas today. I’ll see you at our meeting tomorrow, right?" she asked, rolling up the now completed drawing. Sarika took it, looking slightly hurt.

"Right, of course," he replied. "Um. I'll see you tomorrow then." Sarika inclined his head slightly at Tu and made his way back up the stairs.

The door had barely closed before Tu asked, "is that your boyfriend?”

"No." Asami felt her anger rising. "Tu, you can't just come bursting into my office in the middle of the day." Tu walked towards Asami, pausing to leaf through a couple pages on the table. She rolled her eyes. "Please don't touch those. I have them in a specific order. And give me my screwdriver.”

He sullenly handed the tool over. "Well you two looked familiar with each other."

"What we looked like is none of your concern. And that happens to be my partner for the city's infrastructure project." Asami rose and gestured around her. "Tu, this is my work. I run one of the largest companies in the world, and have meetings every day. I can't have you coming in here without warning."

Tu looked slightly guilty. "Well you never come by the mansion anymore...how am I supposed to talk to you?"

"Well for one, you could listen to my secretary." Tu's saddened expression reminded her so much of Bolin that Asami softened her tone despite herself. "So, why are you here?"

"Oh, I need a job," he said. "Grandma says I'm becoming a wastrel."

Asami forced herself not to snicker. "The problem is most of my jobs require either experience, or some kind of skill--like metalbending." 

"What are those interviews for that you and your secretary were talking about?" Tu asked.

"I need a director of sales."

Tu flexed. "Well I'm the best salesman there is! Just ask anyone who ever watched me work the fruit stand!"

Now Asami allowed herself to laugh. "I'm sure of that Tu. I'm afraid this position may be a little more...nuanced than you’re used to, though." She put a hand on his shoulder. "I can't think of anything off the top of my head for you, but I'll ask around, okay? I know most of the major business owners in town. Someone is bound to have an opportunity."

"Really?" Tu beamed. "Thanks!"

He left soon after, but Asami remained in the middle of her workspace, screwdriver still in hand. She knew she had to prepare herself for more interviews, but as she idly fingered the tool, she heard her father’s voice in her mind. “What do you think of my little operation here?”

Asami wondered what Hiroshi would have thought of her “little operation” today: putting off interviews with bold salesmen to spend an hour designing a road around a spirit vine, only to then be interrupted by a refugee living in the Sato family mansion. Part of her was tempted once again to drive to the prison, where she could throw it all in his face and gain a sick satisfaction from his reaction. But a larger part of her felt disgusted for caring what he might think, even if for a fraction of a second.

Asami put the screwdriver on the table and headed upstairs. It’s best not to rock the boat. Whatever information or closure a visit with her father could offer, Asami had managed so far without it. She had bigger problems to attend to: the interviews, the ramp construction, and finding anyone in town who would be willing to offer Tu a job.

Chapter Text

Asami raised a hand to shield her eyes as she squinted towards the sky, trying to track the movements of the young airbender. Meelo was soaring above the practice yard on his glider, moving in rapid loops. He circled the temple’s tower once before cutting his motion to run along its wall. Asami was so focused on the movements that she jumped when Tenzin’s voice boomed on her left. “Meelo get down here! You are not supposed to be showing off, and the temple is NOT to be used to practice airbending against!”

Asami managed to make a few quick notes before Meelo abruptly landed beside her. Grinning up, he asked “So were you able to handle all of that?”

Before Asami could answer, Ikki rounded on him. “You didn’t even do what she asked!”

“I did too!” Meelo shot back.

“That’s enough fighting out of the both of you,” Tenzin said sternly.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” Ikki protest.

Asami did her best not to roll her eyes. Being caught in the middle of their family fights had been awkward at first, but after an hour of it, she had become accustomed to the dynamic. “Meelo,” Asami said, keeping her voice pleasant. “You did do what I asked, but I’m afraid you may have done the move too quickly for me to track. I needed to observe just your roll.”

“Which one is that again?” the seven-year-old asked.

“For flight dynamics there are three angles, or movements that I need to understand,” Asami explained, for what must have been the tenth time that afternoon. “There is roll,” she held her hand out, palm down and rocked it back and forth. “Pitch,” keeping her wrist steady, Asami raised and lowered her hand. “And yaw,” with her palm remaining parallel to the ground, she moved her hand from left to right. “You certainly did roll, and often, in your last flight, but you were moving so fast and also moving along the other two angles, that I couldn’t quite see the distinct movement.”

Asami was met with silence. I’m not sure how to simplify it more than this , she thought. It had been her hope to work with Jinora or even Kai. Though Tenzin’s detailed two-hour description of glider-construction she had received earlier had been quite informative, she couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed at his insistence to oversee the flights. All Asami wanted to do was observe the glider in action, and Jinora would have been the perfect subject to study: task focused and happy to follow orders, yet also perceptive enough to be able to provide her own insight. However Tenzin and all his micromanagement insisted on being a part of it, and sent his elder daughter off to run the airbenders’ early afternoon training session. Asami was left with Ikki and Meelo.

“Can I try it again!” Ikki was staring up at Asami expectantly.

“Of course you can,” she said smiling. Yet once Ikki was in the air, Asami’s smile quickly faded. She could tell the Ikki was trying to simply roll her glider, but was doing a quick, truncated version of the movement four or five times before circling and trying again. Rather than noting anything useful about the flight patterns, Asami only managed to think about how it looked like the airbender had consumed a glass of sake before attempting it.

She landed next to Asami. “I banked, did you see?”

“You barely banked, sister,” Meelo chided.

He’s right ¸ thought Asami, though she dared not vocalize it. “That was good,” she said, trying to sound sincere. “But your movement was a little short, so it was hard for me to draw anything. Do you think you can describe how you airbent when you went to roll?”

Ikki put a finger on her lip thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I just dropped my shoulder a little bit.”

“So you didn’t actively bend any air?” Asami prodded.

“No, you always have to be bending!” Ikki said, excitably.

“Can you explain what that felt like, then?”

“Well, it kind of feels like the air is a big pillow that you have to pat down at night. It’s going to be so uncomfortable if you pat it too hard.” Ikki began hopping around as she spoke.

Asami raised an eyebrow. “A big pillow? So you...are you saying you make a motion with your hand to actively ‘pat’ the air currents?” she asked.

“No, that would be silly!” Meelo cut in.

Tenzin frowned slightly. “Meelo, let your sister answer.”

Ikki stuck her tongue out at her brother before continuing. “You don't do  that! You just have to find a way to make the air stay fluffy, not lumpy! You just kind of push it around a little.”

Asami glanced at Tenzin, who to her aggravation was nodding sagely. She pretended to make a note in her book before saying, “Would you mind doing that test just once more, but this time really focus on what you’re physically doing when you interact with the air?” She wasn’t sure if her words made any sense at all, but Ikki nodded all the same and took off again.

She had barely been in the air a minute when Meelo cried out, “That’s not right!” Before anyone could object, he took off in his glider, heading straight towards his sister. When he reached her, the two began looping rapidly, sending air currents at one another with their feet.

“You both get down here immediately!” Tenzin yelled.

This is a lost cause . The young airbenders were certainly competent, but between Meelo’s short attention span and Ikki’s flowerly language, there was little concrete information to be gleaned. More troubling was that despite Asami explaining exactly what needed to be adjusted after each run, neither Ikki nor Meelo changed their behavior, or even seemed to realize they were making the same mistakes.

Appealing to Tenzin for help had proven disastrous too. The airbending master would simply reiterate what Asami wanted in a louder voice, and was often met with protests from his children. Asami would have asked Tenzin to fly on a glider himself, but she needed a smaller body so that she could observe as large a section of the wings as possible. More than once during the process she found herself wishing Korra was there. She always knew just what to say to them . The thought alone made her feel an odd combination of sadness and guilt though, so Asami had just done her best to ignore it and explain aerospace engineering to two children.

“Ikki! Meelo! You get down here right now or else no steamed buns for you tonight!” Tenzin’s yell echoed across the yard, but the airbenders showed no sign of hearing it.

Asami closed her notebook, and stood. “It’s okay, Tenzin. I think I have more than enough to keep me busy.” She bent down to pick up the airbender staff he had agreed to loan her. “Finding a suitable material alone is going to be a challenge.”

The airbending master turned towards her. “The material we use to build the gliders won’t work?” he asked.

“No. I’ll need something that’s just as flexible, but strong enough where it won’t require the brass rods for support anymore.” Or maybe there’s a way to still include a support rod? Asami shook her head slightly.  “This might take some time.”

Tenzin stroked his beard, ignoring his children who were now diving towards treetops, only to pull up at the last possible second. “I wish I could have been more helpful explaining the rationale for the gliders' design,” he said at last. “The acolytes can build them, but I’m afraid these staves have been around for centuries. My father might have known a little bit about their development, but that knowledge is...well. It’s long gone.”

She studied his face. Is he resentful? He was speaking so fondly of her this morning . When Asami had arrived on Air Temple Island around mid-morning, Pema had insisted on her having a cup of tea with the family. Asami found the gesture alone heartwarming enough, but that feeling intensified when Tenzin, unprompted, mentioned getting a letter from Katara.

“Korra has regained some mobility,” Tenzin had explained, with a slight catch in his voice. “But my mother says that progress is slow. I only wish I could be down there for her…”

No, he loves her. That much is clear whenever he talks about her. He could no more resent her for losing the connection to Aang than I could for her exposing my father . Still, it was a loss that Asami wondered if Tenzin ever truly took the time to mourn. She looked at the staff in her hand. “I can make do for now studying this,” she said, holding it up slightly. “But wingsuits are far from a simple task. And we’ll need testing every step of the way.”

He frowned slightly. “If you think it’s too much to take on, we’ll all understand. Even offering was incredibly generous of you.”

“No, I’m confident I’ll be able to develop something,” Asami assured him. “But we might be looking at a year, maybe even two of research and development.”

“That’s perfectly fine.” Tenzin said with a smile. “Thanks to Korra, we airbenders aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

***

“What a shame, you’ll have to scrap it,” Ginni said dispassionately, popping a bean curd puff into her mouth. Asami had just finished telling her about the wingsuit project over take-out; the two women rarely had enough time to eat meals out of the office. 

“You can’t be serious,” Asami said, staring incredulously. Part of her wished it was a joke, but when Ginni’s face remain unmoved, she shook her head. “Why would I do that?”

“Pro-bono work is supposed to be easy-peasy. Especially for a technology company. You donate some of your products already developed...whoever gets it is thankful...photo-op!” Ginni paused to pick up a pau bun with her chopsticks. “Years of research and development is another story. This isn’t going to be worth it.”

Asami pushed her container of pan-fried noodles to a corner of her desk, too irritated to continue eating. “Isn’t that for me to worry about?”

The publicist forced herself to swallow before saying, “Do you want me to call Shoji in here and see who he agrees with? We’re talking major resource requirements here.”

She’s not wrong . “I’m not going to go back on my word. I made a promise that I would help the airbenders.”

“To who, Tenzin?” Asami dropped her eyes at the question, but Ginni continued. “He doesn’t seem like the type who would go to the press about it. Come to think of it he doesn’t seem like the type who would go to the press at all.”

“He’s not,” Asami answered. “But that doesn’t change anything. I’m going to design these wingsuits.”

“I can only hope whoever you share a cell with in debtor’s jail is as noble as you.”

“Debtor’s jail?” Asami instinctively flinched at the mention of prison, but forced herself to remain focused Ginni’s words. “Perhaps we should call in Shoji. It might be a long-term pro-bono project, but it’s hardly going to run us out of business. Fabric is pretty inexpensive these days.”

Ginni pushed her own food container out of the way as well and wiped her hands together. “The cost is really your time.”

“Then I’ll work longer hours.”

“Well I see there’s no talking you out of it, but for the record I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.” Ginni paused and scanned Asami’s face. “Unfortunately we really need something in the shorter term. Some other charitable action.”

Asami considered that for a moment. “I could always donate a few Satomobiles to an Earth Kingdom province.” Her last letter from Bolin talked of towns that didn’t even have running water, let alone vehicles. A Satomobile could mean the ability to drive another town and trade goods.

The publicist nodded. “We’ll do that, that’s fine, but...darn-it. The wingsuits would have been perfect.” She reached down for her handbag and placed in on her lap, rifling through. “I wasn’t going to tell you this unless I had to, but you’re in need of some good press, and soon .” Ginni pulled out a folded newspaper and placed it on the desk.

Asami picked it up and quickly scanned the top story. “Vine on My Line! Cabbage Corp Feels Like Ravaged Corp After A Year Without Spirit Solution! " She read, rolling her eyes. "This headline is terrible.”

"I know," Ginni said with a smirk. “I tried to sell them on ‘Vine Whining: Lao Gan-Lan Still Won't Adapt One Year After Spiritual Renaissance,’ but somehow they didn't seem interested.”

Asami felt absurdly touched by the quip. "It’s not even been a full year!” And only seven months since I started working on the infrastructure. “I'm assuming my contract is mentioned in here?" she asked, placing the newspaper down on the table between them.

"In less than glowing terms."

"What do people expect?” Asami sighed. “These problems can’t be fixed overnight, and as it is, water’s running again and most of the major roadways are passable.”

Ginni reached out to where Asami’s hand was resting on top of the newspaper and gave it a small squeeze. “Believe me, I’m the last person you need to say that to.” Asami pulled her hand back, trying to read Ginni’s expression, but the publicist continued as if nothing had happened. “But you know how impatient people are. Besides, this was a calculated move, I guarantee it. Lao is still struggling because he’s not adapting to the changing marketplace, so instead he’s trying to throw Raiko under the bus, which just so happens does the same for you. If I worked for him, I’d have suggested this ages ago.”

“Do you think it will be effective?”

“Not if we act fast,” Ginni replied. “But we’re going to need to be bigger than the donation of a couple of Satomobiles.”

“Well,” Asami began. “I’m trying to design a new type of engine, which would be a much bigger help to the Earth Kingdom towns. It’s going to have an upstream rotating compressor coupled to—“

“Spare me your technical details,” Ginni cut in. “When do you think it could be ready?”

“It’s the combustion chamber that still needs work, but it could be in the line in just a few months.” Asami offered.

“That’s not going to do it then. We need something now.” Ginni shifted in her seat before saying, almost hesitantly, “I think we’re going to need to use our secret weapon.”

“Secret weapon?” Asami arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I was aware we had one.”

“We’ve been sitting on it for a while, actually. I’m going to need you to give an interview.”

“I’ve given plenty of interviews,” Asami said, bemused. “I just had to talk to the press the other day about the new suspension system in this line of Satomobiles.”

Ginni shook her head. “I mean a personal interview. Talk about when you fought alongside the Avatar.”

Asami felt her stomach clench. “No.”

“Asami, you took time away from this company to go out there and help save the world. That’s worthy of a story.”

“It’s not. It’s—“ Asami struggled for the words. Korra’s the one who saved the world, and now the world’s content to forget that. “It’s not my story to tell.”

Ginni stared. “You helped bring down a terrorist organization that threatened to destroy the airbenders!”

Asami bristled at her wording. “I flew a bison,” she snapped.

“Why wouldn’t you want to talk about this? I mean heck, nothing distances you from your father more! What’s the point of you palling around with Korra if you can’t use it?”

The point? Asami looked away. “I didn’t pick the lock on Tenzin’s handcuffs as lava came closer and closer because I thought I would look good in the papers.”

Ginni sighed audibly. “You know what I meant. What you did is admirable—and apparently a lot more than flying a bison by the sounds of it. And there’s no reason not to talk about it.”

Asami sat back and folded her arms. “I won’t use it like that.”

“Asami...” Ginni paused and contemplated her. “You’re going to take a hit with this,” she said, gesturing towards the newspaper. “And any public-facing charitable action either won’t be big enough or soon enough. An interview would help .”

Their eyes met. Is she confused or concerned? “I don’t care. Maybe we’ll take a hit, but what’s the point of having a successful company if I’m not comfortable with how we got there?” When Ginni offered no answer, she continued. “All the article does is point out what people already know about the vines. Things are getting better every day with the infrastructure. Maybe we can just wait this out.”

Ginni suddenly looked thoughtful. “Or...there might be one other option. The problem is that even though there’s a clear plan for the city, people don’t know it.”

“That’s because the plan didn’t test well,” Asami explained. “Telling people they’d still have to wait on major construction, or that the spirit wilds are staying wasn’t popular. Raiko’s tried to keep everything as opaque as possible.”

“It didn’t test well because when you boil it down to those terms, it doesn’t sound attractive. But that’s not the kind of press conference I’m thinking of.” Ginni gave a wicked grin. “We’ll hold a press conference, but instead of talking about the plan in broad generalizations, talk about each decision in highly technical specifics.”

Now it was Asami’s turn to stare. “Why would we do that? That sounds horribly boring, even to me.”

“Exactly!” Ginni stood up, and began pacing by her chair as she spoke. “Oh this is perfect. We can have Raiko highly publicize this press event, so there will be lead-up stories for it. That means the reporters will have to write something about its outcome.”

“I don’t see them writing about technical details...”

“That’s the point!” Ginni stopped pacing and turned directly to Asami. “They won’t be able to follow a word you’re saying!”

She almost sounds like Varrick , Asami thought, uncomfortably. “So it’s a good thing because they’ll just assume the plan makes sense?”

“Sort of,” Ginni said. She said back down in her chair and tapped the desk in excitement. “You’ll definitely be able to defend all the choices you made when you developed the plan. You can explain it again, but this time use your science-y knowledge to back it up.”

“That is what backs it up,” Asami noted.

“Of course, of course,” Ginni waved her hand impatiently. “Actually, you know what? Bring that city planner. Have him be the one to lay out most of the boring details, and then every once in a while you can cut in and offer clarification on something incredibly technical. That way he seems like the one who’s devoid of personality, leaving you to seem amazingly impressive and intelligent. I can work with that!”

“But, that doesn’t really seem fair to Sarika,” Asami objected. “He does tend to ramble about his work, but he’s hardly a boring person.”

“Sarika doesn’t have stakeholders to worry about.”

That is true, and it’s better than profiting off of Korra’s injuries , Asami thought. Even so, it didn’t sit right with her. “You really think we’d be able to get Raiko on board with this?”

“Of course we will!” Ginni answered. “It’s going to serve to take the heat off of him even more than you. The press will have no clue what you’re talking about, but you’ll be so poised up there, and Sarika so detailed, that they’ll have no choice except  to trust what you two are saying. Then I’ll feed them some punchier prepared statements of ours, and before long we’ll have headlines reading ‘Raiko Alleviates Anxiety About Spirit Plan with the Help of Future Industries CEO.’”

“There’s not nearly enough puns in that,” Asami said dryly. “I guess I’ll just have to ask Sarika to play ‘boring cop’? I wish it wouldn’t come to that.”

“As if he wouldn’t do anything you asked him?” Ginni said, raising an eyebrow. So it’s not just obvious to me? The publicist continued. “I know it sounds unsavory, but you’d just be up there telling everyone the truth about your plan.”

“In a misleading way.”

“No, in a straight-forward way that you know they’ll find incomprehensible. There’s a difference,” Ginni insisted. “This is business.”

 Asami nodded. “Nothing nefarious,” she replied reflexively. The difference was there, the trick was just in seeing it.

Chapter Text

Asami walked up the marble steps, the imposing building in front of her. Although she needed to crane her neck to see it, she could almost sense the statue of Toph Beifong watching her...somehow equipped with the sight its honoree lacked. As a child, Asami had been enamored of the statue—how high up it was. “She’s looks so powerful!” Asami remembered saying one day, just a few years after her mother’s death. “I bet she stopped every crime!”

Her father had chuckled. “There are some things even powerful benders cannot stop,” he had answered.

Asami stepped into the atrium and headed for the door to the police department, shifting her bag to her left shoulder as she walked. I wonder if Lin will even be able to help.  When’s the last time she’s done any patrolling? Asami didn’t know what Lin Beifong thought of her. They had fought alongside each other enough times where there had to be respect by now, not that the police chief ever deigned to show it. She’ll want to help for the sake of the city . All the same, Asami was glad she had convinced Sarika not to come with her. One look at that passive boy and Lin would be convinced neither of us should be working on the infrastructure.

Asami inclined her head slightly at the desk officer in the lobby and continued to the double doors at the other end. The officer nodded back, but made no attempt to address her. Ginni’s right; if you carry yourself as a professional no one will question it .

When she pushed open the doors, Asami was surprised to see a mostly empty room. She spotted only two officers sitting at their desk: one reading a newspaper and the other idly bending the coffee out of his cup. She headed towards the nearer of the two when a voice to her right made her stop.

“Asami?” Mako straightened up from a metal filing cabinet in the corner. He looked thinner and paler than when she had seen him last: months ago at Bolin’s farewell dinner. The Red Monsoon case must have really taken a toll on him .

“Mako!” Asami walked towards him. They gave each other a perfunctory hug and broke apart quickly. “It’s good to see you! It’s been a bit. Sometimes I almost forget we’re in the same city.” Asami meant it lightly, but Mako’s mouth tightened slightly.

“We’re both, busy I suppose.” Why is he still so tense ?

Asami could feel the two other officers looking at them. The one had set down his newspaper. “How are you?” she tried.

“I’ve been well. I’m finally done with the stakeout, so it feels good being back to sleeping at night and working during the day.” Asami forced herself to chuckle, though there was nothing particularly funny about his statement. “You here to see Beifong?” he asked.

“Yes. I was hoping she could look over the plan for the expressway.” It was the last major road in need of renovation, and of course the most complicated. For months now, Asami and Sarika been working on a solution, constantly finding new details that made them go back to the drawing board. If approved by Lin, construction would begin in a matter of weeks, and the two could finally start focusing their attention on the residential areas and more generalized city planning.

Mako frowned slightly. “The Chief’s not in. There was some kind of emergency in the Spirit Wilds, so she and the metalbenders are taking care of it.”

That explains the empty room . Asami considered Mako for a minute. “Maybe you can help me.” She reached into her bag and withdrew a folder. “You’re likely to know the streets just as well as Lin. Do you mind taking a look?” When Mako shook his head, Asami drew a folder out of her bag. She walked over to the nearest desk and laid out several pieces of paper on top of it. Mako followed silently.

Asami gestured at the pages. “The intersection near 14 ^th has been completely blocked by a vine. Even though construction has made Papaya passable again, we’ve had traffic chocking up every block until 16 ^th . And 12 ^th connects with Broad, meaning backups there tie up the traffic both exiting the city and heading to the harbor.” She glanced at Mako, who nodded curtly, and continued. “I’m not sure there’s a way to make this work, unless we create two different roads. One will be a raised street, with no exit until it intersects back with Arch up here.” Asami tapped a portion of the map, and traced with her finger as she spoke. “And the other would be a more meandering route along the outskirts of the financial district. Our planner thinks it’s feasible, but we need the police perspective to see if this would drastically hamper your patrolling abilities?”

Mako frowned slightly as he thought. “Well…it’s never ideal to split roads like that, but I can’t think of  how else to do this...” He bent over the sheets of paper, as if getting closer would give him an answer. Out of her peripheral vision, Asami saw the two officers gesturing towards one another. She did her best to ignore them. Mako finally sighed and straightened up. “It’s really hard for me to answer this. I can’t picture these streets off the top of my head.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him admit he can’t do something before , Asami thought. “That’s okay, I wouldn’t be able to either if I hadn’t just been surveying the area earlier this week.” It was a lie, but Mako didn’t need to know that. “Can you possibly come take a look? I can drive us there.”

Mako’s eyes widened and flicked in the direction of the two officers. He can’t be misinterpreting this as romantic, can he?  “I...suppose I could. I mean...this is official police work, right?”

“Yes.” Asami didn’t hesitate. “I need your department’s approval on whatever plan we go with. And I’m sure Lin will feel comfortable with your recommendation.” Is he worried about the other officers thinking he’s slacking off? She fought the urge to raise an eyebrow as she studied her friend. He’s probably still sleeping under his desk; no one could accuse him of that .

“Well then…Yes. Uh…Miss Sato.”

If he salutes again I’m going to laugh in his face . That thought sent a pang through Asami’s chest, as she briefly thought of Korra. It had enough of a sobering influence for Asami give a sincere, “whenever you’re ready, Officer” in answer.

Once the two stepped out into the sunlight, some of the tension seemed to go out of Mako’s shoulders. “I’m parked over this way,” Asami said, gesturing.  “Thank you for doing this, Mako.”

He shrugged. “Sure. I mean, it’s police business.”

Asami couldn’t think of a way to answer that without a joke, so instead they walked silently towards her sports car and climbed in. I hope no press spots us , she thought, turning the key. Ginni would be sure to chastise her for not sporting the new roadster model. “I feel ridiculous in a roadster. They’re all flash. The sports models are far more practical,” Asami had told her. “Besides, aren’t you always warning me against seeming elitist?”

“We want you to seem elite...it’s desirable. Just not the Future Industries brand. People buy Satomobiles they can afford. But they want to see Asami Sato in the newest luxury models. It’s free advertising!” Ginni had gestured so wildly she sent some papers on Asami’s desk fluttering. Including the letter Asami had been so painstakingly writing—

“Is this new?” Mako’s voice jarred Asami back to the present, where she found herself instinctively driving towards the Future Industries Tower.

“What?” Asami made a left. If I take the next left we’ll be heading in the proper direction, and Mako probably won’t have noticed a thing .

Mako cleared his throat with an awkward cough and gestured towards the dashboard. “The car...I mean.”

“Oh. Kind of. I replaced the suspension system and made adjustments to the hydraulic breaks, but the exterior is the same. It’s the standard upgrades in new line of Satomobiles features.” She glanced in Mako’s direction.

“Oh, okay.” He nervously fidgeted in his seat. “I just thought...there’s no police scanner in this car.”

Asami thought for a minute until she realized what he meant. “You mean the car we used to back when we fought the Equalists?” My father’s car? “That got destroyed, remember?”

Mako looked thoughtful. “Oh right, when we saved Tenzin. I forgot we took out that first mecha tank out with it.” The memory seemed to relax him. “So when did you get this one, then?”

I built it . “Not too long after Amon was defeated. Once we were back in the city, of course. It does look the same as my old car, though. I tried to rebuild the sports model in hopes of finding room for improvement because it was right around when I realized the company was sinking.” She caught the expression on Mako’s face. “It’s all fine now. Things seem to be moving in the right direction for my company.” she said, reassuringly. She had no interest in Officer Mako offering his usual platitudes.

He frowned slightly. “I guess I was distracted around then, getting a new job and all.” And dating Korra . Mako continued, oblivious. “But from what I hear, things are more than ‘fine’ for you these days. Well, at least you’re in the papers a lot.”

“That’s my publicist’s doing,” Asami said with a shrug. “She’s always trying to promote something.”

“Wasn’t there a big press conference a couple weeks ago? Lin had to attend, I remember.”

That was nearly a month ago , she thought, but didn’t correct him. “Yes, it was to alleviate some concerns about the infrastructure’s slow progress.”

“Well what do people expect?” Mako asked. “From what I’ve seen, things are getting a little more orderly each day.”

Asami smiled to herself. If nothing else, Mako could be counted to appreciate the increasing efficiency of the city. “Not everyone seems to have taken notice,” she answered. “You know, I would never say this in public, but I wish things were moving a bit faster as well. I’m so happy to have gotten the contract, but truthfully, I much prefer building machines to drawing maps.”

“Aren’t you doing both?”

“Yes,” she said. “But the infrastructure is taking a lot of priority. There’s a few projects I wish I could spend more time on, like my engine or the wingsuits for the airbenders.”

Mako looked in her direction, surprised. “Wingsuits?” he asked.

“Tenzin was talking to me about the lack of gliders back at Bolin’s farewell dinner. I think I can design something airbenders could wear in place of a glider, but I need to experiment with different materials” Asami turned onto Papaya. Only a few more blocks .

“The testing process should be interesting.”

“You have no idea. I was at Air Temple Island not too long ago to study glider movements and barely anything got accomplished because Tenzin insisted that Ikki and Meelo act as the test-subjects.” She slowed the car, searching for the vine in question. “Once I finally have a prototype for them, I’m going to be so worried about the possibility of someone getting hurt. The last thing I need is Meelo being the one to try it out. I’m sure he’d try to fly off the island.”  

Mako chuckled. “Well at least he seems indifferent to pain. Maybe he should be the one to test them.” They both laughed at that.

Finally spotting the obstructing spirit vine, she pulled the car to the side of the road. Mako climbed out and looked all around, scanning the area, while Asami reached into the backseat of her car to fetch the folder out of her bag. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a motorcycle rapidly approaching. The driver made a b-line for her car. Asami stopped reaching for the folder and stepped out. When she turned, she realized the motorcycle was a police bike. It stopped inches from her rear bumper. “Mako...,” Asami called, uncertainly. Mako wheeled around and paled.

A portly officer climbed off the bike and removed his helmet, revealing greasy hair plastered to his forehead. “Officer Mako! Thought I spotted you,” he said with a sneer. His voice reminded Asami of rusted gears.

“Officer Gopan.” Mako walked up beside Asami. She noticed his jaw was clenched.

Gopan turned towards her and bowed his head. “Miss Sato! I believe I saw your pretty face in my paper this morning. Very impressive.”

Asami folded her arms. “Lovely to meet you,” she said, flatly.

If her refusal to offer a hand offended him, Gopan didn’t show it. Instead he turned back to Mako. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t I on patrol duty for this district right now?”

“You are.” Asami could tell Mako was straining to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “As you may recall from your newspaper, Miss Sato is working for President Raiko on our road system and needed our office’s approval on a proposal.”

Gopan’s eyes darted back and forth between them. “Shouldn’t there be a city planner to do that?”

“I’m working in a partnership with Sarika, Raiko’s planner,” Asami explained.

“I’d think this would be his purview then, no offense of course,” he said, inclining his head towards her.

Mako made a move as if to say something but Asami put a hand on his forearm. “We’re both quite capable of assessing the infrastructure.” Mako flinched away from her. What is he worried about ?

Gopan let out a derisive snort. “Well good thing you have Officer Mako on the case.” He put his helmet back on and turned slightly, as if to leave. “Just figured I’d check and see that you were doing your... duty , rookie,” he said, buckling the strap.

“Of course, sir.”

“I’m sure you two kids will have fun assessing something.” With that, Gopan straddled his bike, started the ignition, and drove off.

Asami glanced over at Mako. His jaw was still clenched, but he was pointedly looking away. “What was that?” she asked.

He exhaled sharply, and Asami felt a wave of heat rush past her. “That...was Gopan. We’re technically the same rank, but has been miserable ever since I led the strike against the Monsoons. I think he was hoping he could catch me doing something wrong.”

Asami arched an eyebrow. “What wrongdoing could we have been up to in the middle of a road?”

Mako met her eyes for a minute. “Well...with you here...he saw, you know. Me and a girl.” His voice trailed off.

It was almost too enjoyable to watch Mako’s embarrassment, but Asami decided to help him out. “I’ll be happy to set the record straight if need be.” She hesitated before asking, “Is that why you seemed tense back at the police headquarters? Are those other officers resentful too?”

“No. It’s just that...I have a bit—a bit of a reputation in the department, that’s all.” Mako looked away again.

For what exactly? “A reputation?”

She saw Mako’s ears turning red. “Well, you know—when Korra and I broke up?”

“Which time?” Asami flinched at her own words that she asked without thinking. She had meant the question in earnest, but as the words came out of her mouth, they sounded combative.

“The first,” Mako said. She saw his eyes flash for a moment, but he continued. “I don’t know if she mentioned—but she. We fought at the office. She kicked my desk across the room.”

Asami struggled not to laugh at his phrasing. It was so fitting for the two of them. In her mind’s eye she could almost see Korra barging into the room—but that vision was quickly replaced with another. Korra hunched over in her chair, staring at her hands. “That must have been embarrassing,” she heard herself say.

Mako looked slightly relieved. “Yeah, well the worst part is Lu and Gang were there for that and for when Korra got back with her—“ he abruptly stopped talking, as if suddenly remembering how those events had unfolded.

“I guess that explains your reputation.” She turned back towards the car to retrieve the folder again. This is why we agreed in Zaofu never to talk about it again.

“I just thought that they might have made a certain assumption about us," Mako offered.

Whether that assumption was still of interest to him could not have mattered less to Asami. It was true that their time together had been pleasant, at times even serving as a relatively satisfying distraction. But that was before Zaheer. Sometimes Asami felt as though she was now living a different life, suddenly awakened to a reality that had been eluding her. She turned back towards Mako, papers in hand. “I wouldn’t worry.” She gestured towards the vine. “Let’s just focus on the task at the hand.”

Mako did his job without complaint, observing the traffic flow silently, at times asking about a certain road curvature on her proposed maps. He was slow and methodical, but Asami knew better than to push him. After the better part of an hour, Mako finally gave the answer she had been searching for.

“Well, I don’t love that airships can’t access these two blocks here where the roads split,” he said, gesturing at a sheet of paper, “but there really is no other way. Working around that would cause too many issues with traffic flow, and this seems to have least about of disruption.” Mako caught her eyes. “You came up with it?” he asked, sounding slightly impressed.

“It was a joint effort with the city planner,” Asami replied, feeling awkward at the compliment. “It’s just one intersection. We still have the entire residential sector to redesign.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there soon enough,” Mako replied, smiling faintly.

Asami considered her friend for a minute. “Well, it looks like our work is done then. Come on, I’ll drive you back.”

They climbed back into the car as Asami wracked her brains for the next conversation piece. Luckily, Mako spoke first. “So...has my family been driving you completely nuts?”

Asami paused before putting the key in the ignition. She turned to look at Mako. “When’s the last time you visited?” She saw him flush slightly.

“It’s been a bit.”

“No—that’s fine. I just meant...I moved out a few months ago. I thought they might have mentioned.” Asami started the car and pulled away from the vine, for lack of anything else to do.

“I’ve been buried lately. Sometimes Tu likes to stop by but he only talks about his workout regimen in your gym. I also—I didn’t want to intrude.” Mako drummed his fingers nervously on the side of the car.

Asami nodded. “You wouldn’t have been. But I recently bought real estate downtown—a new skyscraper to house sales and Research and Development. I have an apartment on the top floor.”

“Future Industries Tower, right? I remember reading something about that, but I didn’t realize you lived there.”

“I moved my office there too. It’s more efficient.”

He nodded, but said nothing. I hope I didn’t make him feel guilty. Asami glanced sideways and saw that Mako was very intently staring at the passing scenery. The silence seemed to grow louder. Well at least I’ll have plenty to write about to Korra today—unless...should I leave this out?

“Mako...” she heard herself say. He turned back towards her. Just ask it, he won’t think anything of it . Asami swallowed. “I was actually wondering...have y—have you heard from Korra at all?”

Mako’s eyes widened in surprise. “I was thinking about asking the same thing. She hasn’t written to you either?”

Asami tried not to react to his words. So it’s not  just me . “No, nothing,” she made herself say. What’s wrong with you? This means Korra’s clearly not doing well at all .

“I know she’s dealing with a lot, but I have written her several times.” Mako’s voice sounded far away. Tenzin just told me about the progress she’s making. She can’t have gotten worse, right? Asami almost overlooked the vine in the middle of the road, but swerved just in time.

“Several times?” she asked, absentmindedly. When’s the next time I’m seeing Tenzin? Maybe there’s news.

“Yeah, I told her all about my stakeout and everything. It’s technically classified, but I figured she’s not going to tell anyone.”

Mako’s words suddenly brought Asami back to the moment. “You wrote to her about your job?”

“Of course. There’s not much else to say.”

Asami’s left hand tightened on the steering wheel. She forced herself to speak evenly. “Do you worry that that might make Korra a bit...sad? I mean, we know that she prides herself on her fighting and now she’s wheelchair bound. It could seem like a reminder of what she’s missing.” I have no right to tell him how to talk to her , Asami thought. Still, how can anyone be this obtuse?

“Oh I didn’t think about that. I just thought she’d find it interesting.”

Mako’s voice had an edge to it, but Asami was in no mood to deal with his insecurities. “I’m sure she does,” she answered flatly. No need to belabor the point. “Anyway, your brother has been more than responsive. He sent me some drawings last week.” She saw the relief on Mako’s face.

The conversation about Bolin carried them back to headquarters, but Asami barely took in a word of it. Her mind was already on the afternoon: on telling Sarika about the police-approved plans, on the warehouse walk-through with her facilities manager that evening, and on the letter she needed to compose.

Chapter Text

“Do you think it’s a good or a bad sign that their meeting is going overtime?” Sarika and Asami were sitting on a wooden bench outside of the meeting room. Aside from the two young adults, the building’s entrance hall was entirely deserted.

Asami considered the planner’s question. “I’m not sure. But we all have the same goals at least.” The ongoing meeting was between Kuvira, Varrick, and The United Republic’s Defense Minister. Raiko’s own diplomatic trip to the Fire Nation had been unexpectedly prolonged, forcing him to send Gyan in his place. Asami and Sarika were supposed to discuss the developing infrastructure in the Earth Kingdom and its technological needs with them, yet the political meeting was now twenty minutes overtime.

Sarika nodded and awkwardly drummed his fingers on the bench. “Is that a Fire Nation crest?” he asked suddenly, gesturing towards a faded tapestry in the corner.

As Asami turned to see where her colleague was pointing, a sharp pain shot through her side. I shouldn’t have asked Tej to stay over time. “Probably. This was a colony once, after all,” she said, rubbing the aching spot. Asami had recently hired a personal trainer. Between the ongoing infrastructure work and her side projects, an entire week could pass where she barely left Future Industries Tower. Her daily sessions with Tej in the gym of her father’s mansion forced her away from the work. Since they had begun, Asami had felt more productive, being able to think through projects as she exercised. Yet Tej showed her no mercy, and her sore body was proof of that.

“It’s weird to think about,” Sarika said. “The colonies I mean. This town feels like the Fire Nation, yet it’s one of the first Kuvira stabilized.” He glanced at Asami.

Sarika wasn’t wrong. Though it had been nearly three quarters of a century since the colonies were disbanded, the small Earth Kingdom town selected for the meeting still bore every sign of the Fire Nation. The architecture reminded Asami of Capital City, which she and her father visited when she was ten. And even the local who offered directions insisted that they should come back during the Fire Days Festival. The only thing that stood out of place were the green banners bearing a silver seal: Kuvira’s banners. “People here have a connection to their roots,” Asami said, with a shrug. “They can still be perfectly content as Earth Kingdom citizens, but they’ll carry on the traditions of the Fire Nation.”

“I’m just surprised they stayed, Sarika remarked. “The Fire Nation colonists were mostly the upper class, right? I’d just think after the towns were liberated again, the majority of the citizens wouldn’t want to continue those traditions.”

“The Satos were among the first colonists,” she replied.

Sarika’s eyes widened. “Oh! I didn’t mean to offend you...I was just—“

“You didn’t,” Asami said quickly. “I meant that I don’t think it was just the wealthy who colonized. At least, my father didn’t come from wealth.” Or so he said. “I think a lot of the colonists saw it as an opportunity to begin a new life. To settle somewhere outside of the main islands and make a name for themselves.” She caught the look on Sarika’s face. “It’s true they represented the conquering nation. But especially for colonies established early on, they had a hundred years of considering themselves part of the Fire Nation. That’s not something undone so easily.”

Before Sarika could reply, the door to the meeting room suddenly banged open. Both he and Asami jumped up. Gyan stepped out of the room, looking harried. Once spotting them, the Minister turned and gave a gruff nod. “They’re ready for you.” He quickly glanced around before dropping voice and continuing, “Kuvira’s not in there. Just her second in command. You two remember Raiko’s instructions?”

Asami and Sarika nodded in unison. That United Republic isn’t in a position to spend more money. He only told us half a hundred times. “We have it under control,” she assured Gyan.

“Thank you. I’m heading back to our airship to see if I can radio Raiko. I’ll wait for you both there.”

“Yes sir,” Sarika said. Once Gyan walked out of earshot he turned towards Asami. “Why wouldn’t Kuvira be here? Wasn’t the reason we met in Earth Kingdom territory for her convenience?”

Asami shook her head. “I’m not sure, but it doesn’t change anything for us. We should head in.”

Sarika pushed the door open for her, immediately revealing Varrick’s face. He was sitting at a small, round table, his seat facing the door. As usual, he wore a bit of a smirk, making his new military uniform look out of place. She felt her hand curl automatically into a fist, but before she could spit out a grudging “Hello,” another person was on her. “Asami!!”

It wasn’t until after she had been pulled into a bone-crushing embrace that she realized who it was. “Bolin!” she exclaimed, hugging back tightly and ignoring her now-screaming muscles. “I didn’t know you would be here!”

The two let go of each other and she saw his beaming face. He too wore an Earth Kingdom military jacket, though it suited him better, even with his suspiciously neat-looking hair. "We thought a friendly face might be a good idea—" The sudden clearing of a throat made Bolin stop speaking.

Asami looked around for the source of the noise. Baatar Jr. Though she had not thought of the eldest Beifong child as much more than a quiet boy in Zaofu, the figure standing before her was no doubt a man grown. He even looked broader than Asami had remembered, and something about how he held himself exuded the confidence he had so clearly lacked just a year prior.

“Miss Sato,” he said. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The same to you, Bataar Jr.”

He flinched slightly, but held out his hand all the same, offering a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “‘Baatar’ will do,” he corrected. His grip was a touch too firm.

“Where are my manners? This,” Asami said, turning, “is Sarika, our city planner.” Sarika and Baatar shook hands quickly, before she added, “and Bolin, a good friend of mine.”

“And I suppose I’m the man that needs no introduction,” Varrick called.  He was still sitting, now with his feet resting on the table.

Asami met his eyes and gave a curt nod, while Sarika offered, “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Varrick.”

“Kuvira apologizes for her absence,” Baatar said. “With everything she has to do, she simply cannot take the time for meetings such as this.”

Asami found something about his tone incredibly off-putting. “I imagine she must be handling quite a lot if she has to cancel on the Defense Minister.” She had kept her inflection light, but she could feel Bolin’s questioning gaze.

Baatar’s face remained impassive. “It’s the cost of bringing stability to the Earth Kingdom,” he replied.

“We’ve got the Red Lotus to thank for that!” Varrick swung his feet off the table and began twirling a pen around on the desk, clearly bored by the proceedings. Irritated, Asami glanced at Bolin, who offered her a weak smile. At least someone here understands for a change.

“Hopefully the situation is calming down?” Sarika inquired.

Bolin nodded but Baatar jumped in before he could speak. “It’s going well, but complicated. As of now we need to focus on one state at a time.”

“But we’re helping people all along the way!” Bolin offered. “It’s great! I mean sure, we have to fight off bandits here and there. But with order in Ba Sing Se again, we can offer supplies to towns that need it.”

Bolin's happy infliction nearly brought tears to Asami’s eyes. She forced herself to focus back on Baatar. “Well it’s certainly encouraging for us to hear that things are moving in the right direction. Kuvira seems more than up to the task.”

“Oh she certainly is,” Baatar said, swelling with pride. “Though I hear things are going well for you too,” he gestured at Asami. “I just read about your new biplane models. I have great respect for your work. You may not have remembered, but I’m an engineer myself.”

“I do remember; your mother told us,” Asami said serenely. She saw a flash of anger in Baatar’s eyes.

“Good ol’ Suyin,” she heard Varrick call out to no one in particular.

Sarika looked around the room in confusion. “Perhaps we should get started.”

“A fine idea,” Baatar said, regaining his composure. Bolin looked over at Asami with a worried expression. She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze as they headed towards the table, where she herself in between him and Sarika.

They had barely taken their seats when Varrick leaned forward to say, “You know, Asami, I’ve been making some adjustments to your mecha tanks for Kuvira here...” 

“My father’s mecha tanks."

“That your company is still selling,” Baatar pointed out.

“Yes.” What’s his point? “But I wasn’t the one who developed the technology.”

"But the technology is there, all the same. Why shy away from your ownership of it?” Baatar looked towards Varrick for support.

“Ol’ Asami here has a few hang-ups about military wares. Could be that I had something to do with that.”

Asami could feel her nails digging into her palms. She was about to speak when Sarika made a sudden movement, as if to touch her arm but thought better of it. Instead he awkwardly adjusted his glasses while saying “Weren’t there maps that we were supposed to be looking at? Something about the rail line.”

“Wow, this one is all work and no play.” Varrick leaned back in his chair. “I liked your old tiger-shark better, Asami," he added, winking in Bolin’s direction.

“Sarika doesn’t work for me.” Asami said evenly.

“I guess that makes Raiko the lucky one.” He turned towards Sarika. “Look, kid, you put three engineers in a room together and they’re going to compare the size of their wrenches.”

Baatar shot Varrick a look. Bolin let out a nervous chuckle, and flashed yet another weak smile in Asami’s direction. Why would Kuvira let Varrick meet with anyone, let alone the Defense Minister? Asami stretched her arm underneath the table to prevent herself from rolling her eyes.

“Maybe I should get the maps, sir,” an unfamiliar voice broke the silence. Asami jumped at the sound and scanned the room, before realizing that it belonged to Zhu Li. She had been standing so quietly in a corner that Asami had overlooked her completely.  

Sarika was caught off-guard as well. He half-rose out of his chair before stopping himself. “I’m um...I’m not sure we’ve met,” he said, uncomfortably.

“That’s just Zhu Li, my assistant,” Varrick said with a dismissive wave of his hand. If she was offended by his words, she didn’t show it. Instead, Zhu Li picked up two coiled up pieces of paper from her corner and placed them on the desk next to Baatar.

He slid them across the table towards Sarika and Asami. “Kuvira wishes to make an efficient and comprehensive train system a priority for the Earth Kingdom,” he said. Sarika and Asami both unrolled them, revealing two pieces of a map. They silently slid the papers together while Baatar continued to speak. “We envision a train running between each of the planned hubs at least once an hour.”

This is too ambitious, Asami thought. “This plan suggests the need for major renovations to Republic City’s terminal,” she said. “We don’t even have half the tracks that would be required.” She glanced to her left and saw Sarika pouring over the maps, a slightly bemused look on his face.

Baatar nodded. “Yes, the connectivity between the United Republic and the Earth Kingdom is crucial for its stability.”

“But this is a major expense,” Sarika said, adjusting his glasses as he looked up. “The renovations in the United Republic alone would require resources we don’t have.” He paused and placed his finger on part of the map, even though Baatar was too far away to see it. “We’d need to build bridges, clear cut sections of forests...and that’s not even touching the labor costs.”

“The Earth Kingdom needs to be stabilized,” Baatar replied. “We will have to spend resources as well to build the tracks within our territories.”

“It’s the Earth Kingdom that has most of the ore,” Asami pointed out. “And you have a team of highly skilled metalbenders that could lay these tracks quickly. Most of the cost would fall onto the United Republic, especially because the more complex infrastructure work needed is within the city.”

“Forgive me, Miss Sato, but is this you purview?” Baatar asked coldly. “I understand you consult with the President’s office, but surely the private sector doesn’t have that much of a strangle-hold on the capital?”

Asami’s retort was ready on her tongue, but to her surprise, Sarika cut in. “Miss Sato’s purview is the same as mine, per her contract: anything that touches the city’s infrastructure. And in this case we’re of the same mind.” His eyes flicked in her direction for a moment before he continued. “This plan is simply too ambitious and costly for the city to handle right now. At least as it is.”

“What did I tell ya?” Varrick stage-whispered to Bolin.  “A real tiger-shark!” Bolin looked uncomfortably toward Asami, who shook her head slightly.

Baatar frowned. “That’s unacceptable,” he said, barely keeping the venom out of his voice. “These train lines are a key component of Kuvira’s vision and crucial to providing stability.”

“I know,” Sarika said. “I do think we can work with it, just not in full right now. We should pick tracks to prioritize. A lot of these proposed lines lead to territories that Kuvira hasn’t even brought into the fold yet.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” Baatar insisted, sounding increasingly defensive. “And if we prioritize tracks then some towns will be left out. We can’t allow parts of the Earth Kingdom to fall back into the dark ages.”

“No,” Sarika said evenly, “but it’s better to start with a plan we know we can manage rather than one where we'd overextend ourselves. We can always expand as states are stabilized and more travel is needed.”

Asami smiled in his direction. If only he’d assert himself more; he makes good points. “Along that line of thought,” she added, “if we only have trains run on the lines every two hours or three hours, it would reduce the number of tracks needed at the major terminals. Once the other lines are implemented, then we can look to increase the frequency of the trains.”

Baatar looked thoughtful. “I suppose there’s a logic to that,” he said slowly. “But this plan...“ He paused, an odd expression on his face. “We can agree to it as the long-term vision?”

He doesn’t want Kuvira to think he failed, Asami realized. Sarika began slowly, “We’ll have to see what our resources look like—“

Asami cut him off. “This plan is certainly the vision I think we all share: increased connectivity between the countries.” She forced herself to smile at Baatar, and saw his face relax. She continued, “Still, the costs are going to be an issue for us. Even starting with a paired down plan requires more work in the United Republic than the Earth Kingdom.”

Sarika didn’t hesitate. “Perhaps if you would be able to provide the ore as well as two or three skilled metalbenders to serve as construction managers?” Asami smiled to herself. These were the terms they had talked about ahead of time, though Sarika had managed to make it sound natural.

Baatar nodded. “Kuvira will need to approve, of course,” he said. “But it sounds reasonable. Should we go ahead and discuss the lines and routes that make the most sense?”

“I’m not here for that!” Varrick exclaimed, hopping to his feet. He leaned forward and put both his hands on the table. “You two can talk tracks. I need to talk trains with Asami here.”

“I think I should be privy to that as well,” Baatar said, scowling.

“Trains?” Asami asked. Is this level of in-fighting normal?

“Varrick is working on redesigns for modernized trains,” Baatar explained.

Asami couldn’t help herself. “Like the ones your mother has in Zaofu?” she asked, innocently. She could see his scowl deepen, but it was Varrick who answered her.

“Even better, Asami! We’re talking long-distance here!” Varrick hopped backwards onto his seat and crouched down, waving his hands around as he spoke. “Between magnets and metalbenders, we can design trains of the future! These bad boys will be efficient, fast, and luxurious. Heck, Kuvira even plans on living in one once we get it up and running...Zhu Li! Do the thing!” Varrick snapped his fingers, and Zhu Li rushed to fetch another sheet of paper, which she quickly uncoiled in front of Asami. It revealed blueprints for a lavish train.

Sarika craned is neck to glance at the drawing too, even though Asami knew it meant little to him. “This is quite the design,” she said, after a brief moment. “The windows are a nice touch.”

“Well don’t think about stealing it when you redesign the Republic City trains!” Varrick said, hopping up again and beginning to pace. “You’ll need new ones too to go the longer distance, won’t you?” he asked.

“That sounds right to me,” Asami replied. “But we may just try to make upgrades to what we already have. Your design will be safe. Why did you want me to review this though? It looks sound enough.”

“It’s the engine!” Varrick said. “You’ve been working on one, haven’t you?

She nodded. “It’s a combustion turbine that’s smaller than anything on the market. It will have continuous flow, so the pressure in the chamber is controlled while the combustion changes the volume.” Asami glanced up. Varrick was nodding, with a gleam in his eyes, but Baatar looked like he was doing mental calculations. “It’s testing at twice the efficiency of the standard engines now,” she said.

“Great!” Varrick stopped pacing and grinned in her direction.  “When will it be ready?”

“It’s in the final testing stages. If things continue in to go well, it will be on the market in two months.”

Baatar furrowed his brow. “Cabbage Corp has a newer engine model that was just released a few months ago, don’t they?”

Asami rolled her eyes. If you can call that ‘newer.’ “Cabbage Corp’s poor workmanship is the reason I nearly lost my life in the Si Wong Desert,” she answered.

“Wait,” Bolin had been looking confused since the meeting began, but his face now bore only curiosity. “Wasn’t a lot of that Korra’s doing?”

Asami shot him a warning look, but Varrick cut in. “Nah kid,” he said to Baatar, “Asami has the right of it. Future Industries’ quality speaks for itself. It’s the best on the market, and Varrick Industries, International won’t work with anything but the best.”

“Varrick Industries, International?” Asami asked derisively. She could hear her blood pumping in her ears. “You have a company again?”

“Of course I do! I’ve got to protect my innovations, don’t I?” he answered, beaming.

Asami glared back. “But Varrick Global’s assets were liquidated. And I thought you were pardoned on the condition that you would be working for the Earth Kingdom restoration effort.”

“And part of my condition to go with Kuvira was that I needed my own company again.”

“How could Raiko have agreed to that?” she asked incredulously. “You tried to start a war by kidnapping him!”

Varrick leaned back onto the table. “Allegedly. Look, we both know the war was already underway. And I didn’t hear you complaining when I told you I could get you mecha tank sales.”

The words stung. Asami could feel Sarika’s questioning gaze, but she was too agitated to stop. “What about when you robbed my warehouse to trick me into signing over my company?” She asked. “You’ve proven what kind of businessman you are.”

Baatar interrupted. “It wasn’t without conditions. Varrick Industries, International can’t earn profit for ten years.”

“That’s right!” Varrick said, folding his arms. “Anything in the black goes directly to the restoration campaign.” A meaningless penalty, Asami thought. Anything can be written off as a business expense. Varrick continued, “Look it’s for everyone’s protection,” he said. “We can’t have these innovations be public goods, not with the inconsistency in leadership. If anything fell into the wrong hands...”

Sarika spoke up. “What are you planning on designing where that’s a concern?”

A loud crash made everyone jump. Asami looked to her right to see Bolin stirring on the ground. “Oh, ooh, sorry,” he said, standing and picking up his fallen chair. “I was just leaning back, and then I didn’t realize how far back it was...” he looked apologetically around the room. Asami had nearly forgotten about him. His embarrassed face made her realize how much she had missed him, and she could feel all her anger from the moments before drain away. Baatar’s voice forced her attention back.

“This is irrelevant. It sounds like you want to wait and purchase the Future Industries engines when they’re ready?” Baatar turned towards Varrick.

“Sure I do!” Varrick said. “If, of course, Asami’s willing to sell.”

She felt all eyes on her. “Anything to aid the Earth Kingdom,” she made herself say. At least the trains will help people.

“Very good then,” Baatar replied, dispassionately. “We’ll have to work out the pricing details later. I’m assuming you’ll accept ore as payment too?”

Asami folded her arms. “That should be fine, depending on the concentration of metals that can be extracted.”

Baatar nodded. “We may also need select airship parts, especially if we're waiting two months on the engines. Can your CFO draft up a request for payment?”

“It will be on its way by the end of the business day tomorrow,” she answered.

“Well if that matter’s settled,” Baatar said, “then we can redraw the rail lines.”

Varrick plopped himself back into his seat. “While you do that,” he said, “I want Asami to also take a look at the upgrade I’m working on to her mecha tanks.”

“Her father’s mecha tanks, right?” Baatar put in.

“I don’t consult for free,” Asami said irritably, ignoring Baatar’s snide remark. Not for you. Not on this.

“Come on, it’s for the Earth Kingdom,” Varrick prodded.

“Even if 'Varrick Industries, International' isn’t profitable right now, you’re still a competitor,” she replied. “You know how this works.”

Varrick threw a hand into the air. “Fine, I’ll give you...what? Five shares of my company for a half hour of consulting work. You know they’ll be worth having in the future.”

“That’s Kuvira’s decision,” Baatar said sharply. “Your company’s assets belong to her right right now.”

Sarika shifted in his seat. “I thought Kuvira’s position was solely military,” he said.

“Kuvira is the interim leader of the Earth Kingdom,” Baatar insisted.

Sarika and Asami glanced at one another. That’s not how it was announced in the papers. Varrick interrupted the silence. “Well for the sake of the Earth Kingdom, I need Asami to look over what I’m doing. So tell Kuvira to sell my shares, or,” he turned to Asami, “have your CFO draw up a bill. Can we stop talking about paperwork and start talking tanks?”

Baatar looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded instead. “Fine. You and Miss Sato can look at the designs while I work with Sarika on the maps.”

It ended up taking closer to an hour to look over Varrick's new designs. At first Asami begrudged him every minute, pointedly keeping her chair closer to Bolin and trying not to engage with Varrick's antics. However, once he began explaining his attempts to make bipedal mecha suits, the intrigue won Asami over. Varrick remained surprisingly task focused. The only minor irritation was that the terms he used to describe the engineering weren't any with which Asami was familiar, most sounding like they had been entirely made up. But Zhu Li was always there, hovering over Varrick's chair, to provide the expression that brought the schematics into the concrete. Eventually they fell into a productive rhythm.

It was the control system that was giving Varrick the most grief. The challenge of how to design the suits so that a driver would be able to seamlessly control both legs for all movements ranging from walking to pushing the mecha suit off the ground proved exceedingly difficult. Fortunately, it was evocative of when Asami had repurposed her father's design to create mecha suits tailored to Republic City's cleanup efforts shortly after Harmonic Convergence.

Once completing a circuit diagram, Asami laid her pencil down. "Well," she said, "Ba Sing Se wasn't built in a day, but I think this should be sufficient to get you over your hiccup." She heard Bolin breathe a sigh of relief; he had been sitting and trying not to fidget the entire time. 

"This is great!" Varrick exclaimed. He coiled up the schematics and handed them to Zhu Li. "Zhu Li, get these to R&D right away!"

"You are R&D, sir," Zhu Li replied in her usual cool tones.

"Oh right! Keep forgetting I'm running a start-up." He turned back towards Asami. "Well thanks! Just like old times for us, right?"

Asami didn't even crack a smile. "I don't remember ever designing anything with you. Just making misguided deals."

"All's well that ends well," he shrugged. "Your company's almost doing better than when Hiroshi was running it!"

Asami's stomach lurched, though she did her best to keep her face expressionless. "We’re profitable. And we're projecting growth, especially if we can get the engines to the line on schedule."

Bolin flashed a smile. "That's great! I always knew you were the best at business lady things." The earnest look in his eyes made Asami want to hug him. I guess you didn't realize how close I came to losing it all.

Varrick seemed to read her mind. "Well I always knew you had it in ya, kid. Else I wouldn't have gone to such lengths to try and take over Future Industries." He flashed a smile.

"Just because things are going well now doesn't make what you did okay," Asami said, stony-faced. Can't we stop talking about this? In truth, Asami didn't know which made her more uneasy: how foolish she had been to trust him, or how it really had been Varrick that saved Future Industries from bankruptcy.

Varrick waved a hand. "It's old news. Besides I can make it up to you. Now that I'm pardoned, I'm back in contact with some important people in Republic City. That includes those making movers, even though Kuvira won't let that be part of my business model for now."

Asami folded her arms. "I'm still confused why that's her jurisdiction. Isn't her position military?"

"Semantics," Varrick said dismissively. "Anyway, are you back with Mako?"

The abruptness of the question threw her. "What?"

"Mako. Did you two crazy kids work it out?"

"No," Asami answered, wondering how anyone could ever classify Mako as 'crazy'. She could see Bolin's confusion out of the corner of her eye. "There was nothing to work out. We've been done for some time. We're friends."

"Shame," Varrick said. "I always liked you two together." So you could manipulate us. "There's a reason I ask. You know Sheil?"

Asami felt torn between her desire to punch him and her desire to understand what he was possibly talking about. "Republic City's biggest mover star? Yes, I've seen mentions," she said, dryly.

"Well his agent and I are in contact," Varrick explained. "Apparently the screaming fans are getting to him, so he's looking to find someone. Not that it ever bothered our earthbender over here."

"Sheil leads a difficult life," she said rolling her eyes in Bolin's direction.

"I could set you up with him," Varrick offered.

"No," she said reflexively.

He looked surprised. "Why the heck not?"

Asami felt heat rushing to her face as she searched for an answer. "I—I prefer to focus on work right now." She could feel Bolin's gaze on her but didn't meet it.

"What, you with your tiger-shark or something?"

"No!" she said more adamantly, glancing over in Sarika's direction to make sure he hadn't heard. He and Baatar still seemed engrossed in the maps. "I'm just not interested in dating a complete stranger, that's all."

Asami was afraid he'd press the point more, but Varrick simply shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you change your mind, you know where I work." He shoved his chair back and hopped up. "Zhu Li! To our airship!" he cried, raising an arm in the air.

He and Zhu Li were halfway out the door before Baatar noticed. "We're almost done here," he called after Varrick's retreating figure. "Then we'll take off immediately for Kuvira." Baatar looked towards Bolin to make sure he had heard that as well, who nodded in his direction. 

Asami turned towards her friend. "Let's head outside. We can catch up for a little bit, at least." Standing caused her muscles to seize again, but she couldn’t stay in the room another minute. As the two walked out the doors as well, she nodded towards Sarika, who returned the gesture. Asami felt guilty for not staying and reviewing the maps with him, but she knew he had a better grasp on the United Republic's economics, and that the two would likely be spending the better part of the flight home redrawing everything anyway.

She and Bolin stepped outside into the town square. There was a fountain in the center, which Asami gestured to. They sat down on its stone rim. After a moment of silence, Bolin spoke first. "Asami, why was everyone so angry in there? Aren't we all on the same side?"

She idly picked at a loose rock. "Varrick and I have a history—you know that."

"But he's changing. He's trying to help, working for Kuvira."

"Bolin," she began slowly, turning away from the rock to look her friend in the eyes. "He probably sees this as an opportunity to get pardoned and begin a business again. And given how he ran his company last time, I can't just forget about it."

"I know," Bolin said, a sad look in his eyes. "And I don't think you should have to forget. But we are doing a lot of good."

"Are you? Some airbenders are beginning to give worrying reports about the state of the Earth Kingdom. There's talk of forced labor."

"No!" he answered, shaking his head. "I don't know what they're looking at, unless it's the areas still overrun with bandits. I'm seeing first-hand just how much we're helping. Once states agree to join Kuvira, we give out supplies and food."

"So you don't deplete towns of their own resources?"

Bolin's eyes widened. "Of course not! We make take some supplies, but then that goes to the states that need our help even more!"

Even though Bolin's words sounded comforting, they did little to ease the nagging feeling in Asami's stomach. "Is Baatar usually so combative?" she asked. If anyone truly knows what Kuvira's doing, it's him.

He shook his head. "This was the first meeting he took on his own. I think he was nervous. He wanted Kuvira to come, or, at least that's what it sounded like before we left. I heard him ask her."

"Kuvira could have come today?" Asami stared.

"Oh! I don't know. Probably not, or else she would have, right? I didn't overhear the whole conversation."

Something's off about all of this. She could see the worry in Bolin's eyes, which brought a pang to her chest. "I'm sure she had a reason," she said, waving her hand. "How are things otherwise? Have you heard from Opal?"

The relief at the subject change was plain on Bolin’s face. “Oh yeah...we write a lot! Well, you know Opal.”

Asami nodded. It was rare to see the young airbender without a book. “And things are going well with you two?” she asked. It had been clear from the start this his girlfriend didn't approve of his job, but that had been months ago.

“I think so. It seems like she’s forgiven me a bit, but...well, it’s hard to tell from letters.” Bolin shook his head slightly. “Even with you, it’s hard to tell.”

“What do you mean?” Asami asked.

“Well we write a lot and everything, but you...you seemed tense today.”

She looked away from her friend, up towards the rooftops of the colonial village’s ornate buildings. “It was a stressful meeting.”

“I guess,” Bolin said, sounding unconvinced. “But you only ever write to me about work.”

“That’s all I do.”

He laughed slightly at that. “You sound like Mako. I just get worried, that’s all. I feel like you need people in your life outside of your job.”

Asami turned back to look at him. “Who, Sheil?” she asked dryly.

Bolin shrugged. “No. That was weird of Varrick, huh?” Asami rolled her eyes as he continued. “I just mean someone to talk to. I know how Mako can be, but at least you’re in the same city as him.”

She sighed. “Mako and I are both excellent at not reaching out to each other. I’ll try and have lunch with him soon. And if it makes you feel any better, I’ve started training in my gym again, which means I see your family nearly every day.

Bolin grinned at that. “Good! Your last letter had me laughing when you told me about Tu’s job.” Asami had found Tu a position in Daruka’s mailroom, one of the lower floors of Future Industries Towers. Even though the lawyer had no complaints, Tu had made it a habit to pop in to Asami’s office every few days. Just a week prior, Anju had been forced to physically restrain him while Asami and Katsu were finishing up a meeting with a prospective supplier. Bolin continued, “I know it’s not the same as your own family, but hopefully you like being around them?”

“Of course." Asami felt a lump rise to her throat. In truth, Bolin’s family was still a handful, and Asami spent most of her time after her workouts comforting Daisuke. But she hadn’t heard anyone express such earnest concern for her in a long time. “Between them and my trips to Air Temple Island, I’m getting my fill of family time, I promise.”  She made herself smile, though an odd, empty feeling was spreading inside of her. My father had been the only family I ever needed, she thought. And he took that away. Even though Asami loved her time with the airbenders, it often made her feel lonelier when she’d return to her office, surrounded by the ghosts of her father’s past innovations.

“Oh hey,” Bolin was saying. “You probably would have mentioned this in your letters, but have you heard from Korra at all?” 

When others asked, Asami usually felt on edge, but Bolin’s question made her feel comforted. “No,” she said. “Just the updates from Tenzin that I’ve been writing to you.”

“I figured,” he said glumly. “I still write her plenty, even though I don’t expect anything back.”

“Do you tell her all about Kuvira and the campaign?” Asami asked apprehensively.

Bolin just shrugged. “Not really. I mean I’ll mention things here and there, but mostly I send drawings, or write something funny. I just hope it makes her laugh.”

She felt a rush of affection toward her friend. “I’m sure it does,” she said, warmly.

“Maybe. I’m still worried. It’s been almost a year.” Bolin shook his head sadly. “You should visit her.”

The suggestion caught Asami off-guard. “I—" She searched for the words. “I don’t think she wants me to, Bolin.”

“I’m sure she does; she just wouldn’t ask.”

It would make her feel too vulnerable. “Any visit needs to be on her terms."

“I think it would make her happy though,” Bolin insisted.

She paused before carefully saying, “I'm not sure Korra’s in a place where she's even thinking about her own happiness.”

"Well what about you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, studying his face. She couldn't believe that Bolin would suspect anything, and yet...

"I mean, are you thinking about your happiness?"

Asami was unsure if it was a question she did not want to answer or could not answer.

Chapter Text

“Dear Korra.” The two words flowed out of Asami’s pen by habit. She paused, staring at the blank page. I can’t ask how she’s feeling again. And I just told her I missed her two letters ago. She shook her head and left some space at the top for a proper introduction before writing, “I had a meeting about my supply chain risk this morning. I know; please try to keep your excitement in check. But I actually found it interesting that the supplies considered the least variable are those coming out of Harbor City. It sounds like things are running well down there.” Asami stared at the words on the page. This is horrible, she thought, hopelessly. But it can’t be worse than that letter where I explained what a modulus of elasticity was.

Asami sighed and was about to reach inside a drawer for a fresh piece of paper when the door to her office opened with a bang. Ginni rushed in, looking windswept. “Is it true?” she demanded, before reaching the desk.

Asami wracked her brains. Is this about Shoji’s supplier recommendations? Did Katsu fill her in on the engine deal? None of this seemed like it would concern Ginni. “Is what true?”

Ginni reached into her bag and withdrew a photograph, which she hastily slapped down on the desk in front of Asami. The publicist gestured at it. “Is it true?”

The picture was of Asami and Bolin hugging as they said their goodbyes in a town square. “Yes...” Asami began. “This was taken about a month ago. It was when I had that meeting in the Earth Kingdom about their train system.” She looked up. “Why?”

Ginni’s eyes widened. “Were you planning on telling me?”

"About the trip? You knew. You told me not to wear anything green because it might appear ‘culturally insensitive.’"

“Are you trying to be funny?” Ginni asked, irritably.

Asami raised an eyebrow. “Not at the moment, no,” she replied, bemused.

“Asami,” Ginni leaned over, placing her hands on the desk for support. “You’re dating one of the most recognizable bachelors in the world and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Oh,” Asami said, beginning to laugh. She could feel Ginni’s questioning gaze. “I’m not dating Bolin. We’re friends.”

“Do you hug all your friends like that?”

“The ones I haven’t seen in half a year, yes.” She met Ginni’s gaze. “I promise, we’re not together. Bolin can just be a bit...enthusiastic with his hugs.”

Ginni clapped a hand over her chest and sank into the chair opposite Asami. “Good. You’re giving me a heart attack here. We would have needed some serious damage control.”

Any amusement Asami felt from the situation suddenly faded. “Why? What would have been the problem?”

“Well, it’s Bolin,” Ginni answered, gesturing towards the picture once more.

Asami narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean he’s well-liked, don’t get me wrong. But he’s also got a reputation for being not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

"Bolin’s smart!" Asami protested. “He just sometimes...needs a little guidance.” She looked down at the photograph again, which was partially obscuring her letter to Korra. He’s at least smarter than his cousin.

Ginni gave Asami a skeptical look. “When he was asked in an interview why he became an actor, he said, ‘because all of my friends were busy.’” She held up her hands to make the block quotes.

“Bolin’s not great with words sometimes,” Asami conceded. “But what does it matter? He’s one of the best people I know.”

“I’m sure he’s great,” Ginni said. “But your brand is all about sophistication. I’ve been working to paint you as a highly capable, but opaque figure. That’s what your info-dump press conference was all about.” She paused to make sure Asami was following. “People have confidence in you; the little that we’ve allowed them to know is damn impressive. So yeah, your products are more expensive than your competitors, but when we assert that they’re higher quality, people believe us because they’ve come to trust in your brand.”

“You mean the Future Industries brand?”

“Well yes, but also your personal one. You are Future Industries, and thanks to your exposure from the infrastructure project, people know it. We can’t separate the two. But the point is, if the public were to see you dating Bolin, then any sort of refinement they have come to associate with you would be gone.” Ginni caught the expression on Asami’s face and offered, “It wouldn’t have been a death sentence by any means, but I would have had to try and figure out how to spin it.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Asami couldn’t place exactly what was angering her. “I understand how my personal image affects the company. We’ve talked about that plenty. But who I date doesn’t affect my capabilities.”

“I swear,” Ginni said, shaking her head, “I’m going to print out posters that say ‘public perception isn’t about truth’ and hang them all over your office until you understand that. If people don’t see Bolin as a confidence-inspiring partner for you, that’s the way of it.”

“It isn't fair. He’s out there with Kuvira risking his neck every day.”

Ginni narrowed her eyes. “I told you he’s well-liked, it isn’t about that.” She paused, an odd expression crossing her face. “Do you want to date him? I mean, it would give me a heads up, so—”

“No!” Asami said sharply. “He’s like a brother to me. And dating Opal Beifong.”

“Ooh good, I can feed the press that. It will definitely stop any rumors about this photo before they start again.”

Asami rolled her eyes. “Yes the truth is often helpful,” she said irritably. “My point was that if my brand is hurt by someone who’s trying to help stabilize the Earth Kingdom—”

“That’s the other thing,” Ginni interrupted. “This Kuvira-situation...we don’t know how it’s going to play out yet.”

The statement caught Asami off-guard. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s murmurings. No one really knows what’s going on in the Earth Kingdom. I mean, it’s nothing that’s hit the papers yet.” Ginni leaned forward. “Actually, there’s been rumors that a couple of reporters were bought off. And supposedly a good amount of Earth Kingdom citizens are trying to move to the United Republic.”

“Probably because of the bandits, I’d imagine,” Asami offered.

Ginni gave a doubtful look. “In part, maybe. Still, some people are seeing Kuvira’s campaign as nothing more than a growing military. I don’t know, did you get a sense of any of this during your meeting?”

Asami shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Both she and Sarika had shared their concerns on the flight home. Between Kuvira’s absence and the way Baatar had talked about her role, everything had just seemed...off. And that wasn’t even touching the airbender reports that Tenzin had told her in confidence. They don’t have confirmation Kuvira forcing anyone to work for her, but why else would reporters need to be bribed? She chose her words carefully. “It was hard to get a clear understanding from just one meeting. But I do think the rail lines will help. If nothing else it will increase communication, and hopefully lay these rumors to rest.”

“If they can be,” Ginni said darkly.

“So...what then?” Asami asked. “I’ve made sales with Kuvira’s campaign, as well as donated Satomobiles to Earth Kingdom towns. Are you saying I shouldn’t be doing that?”

Ginni shook her head. “For the time being you’re fine. All of that can be marketed as ‘trying to help.’”

“It is trying to help,” Asami insisted.

“And it helps your bottom line too, I’m aware,” Ginni said, rolling her eyes.

"Is there an alternative?" Asami asked, though the words felt hollow. If you can't make money off war... She tried to push the thought away.

Ginni gave a small shrug. “Not really. Look, if something is truly off, then that means Kuvira pulled the wool over multiple sets of eyes. It’s a low reputational risk for you. Though a much higher one for our esteemed president." She gave a small smile, as if to mitigate the ominous message. “But all the same, dating a higher-up in her ranks is not the best idea. And avoid making any declarative statements about her campaign.”

I couldn’t even if I wanted to.  “I understand. I guess it’s lucky for Opal that she doesn’t have to worry about reputational risk,” Asami said dryly.

“No, it’s lucky for us that this photograph gave us a heads up.” Ginni snatched the picture and held it up. The sudden movement sent the letter underneath flying off the desk.

Without thought, Asami quickly ducked down to retrieve it and hastily put it in her opened drawer. She could feel Ginni’s eyes on her. “A heads up about what? This is a non-story,” she said, sitting upright and trying to act natural.

If Ginni had found anything suspicious, she didn’t show it. “You might not be with Bolin, but this is an area of your life that we’ve been ignoring. And one that can have pretty serious consequences for your image.” She dropped the photograph into her purse and extracted a pen and notebook. “So,” she said, flipping to a fresh page and looking up. “Are you dating anyone?”

Even though she saw it coming, the question still made Asami’s stomach give an unpleasant lurch. “No,” she said, trying to keep her tone indifferent.

“Anyone on the horizon?”

“What, I’m going to have to run every potential date past you?” Asami deflected, surprised by the harshness of her own voice.

Ginni seemed unphased. “If you were smart.” She gave a wry smile. “Look I’m not saying you can’t date who you want—of course you can. It’s just that it doesn’t take much for something to become news, especially if it’s about sex. All those late nights with Sarika...if that’s something you’re even considering,” she paused. “Well, let’s just say it’s a very short road to reading about Raiko’s unethical contracting practices in the papers.”

Asami fought the urge to curl her hand into a fist. “That’s ridiculous. And there’s nothing between us.”

“Really?” Ginni asked dubiously. “I mean, it’s not like it takes the city’s best detective to notice the rabaroo eyes he’s always giving you.”

“Fortunately his eyes aren’t your concern,” Asami answered coldly. Why am I taking this out on her?

Ginni sighed and tossed her notebook onto the desk. When she looked back at Asami, all hint of irony was gone from her face. “Look. I know this conversation is invasive. And of course you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But given how hard you’ve worked to get where you are, and how fickle public approval can be, I recommend that you do. The last thing I want to see is your company’s reputation decline because you allow yourself a date.” 

Asami could feel the publicist’s searching gaze. She forced herself to nod. “I know.”

Ginni continued. “The fact is, you’re of a certain age, you’re highly successful, and...you’re gorgeous. People are going to be curious about your dating life. As much as I love painting you as an enigmatic genius, it’s only going to be a matter of time before more and more questions about this come up.” 

Something about Ginni’s expression made Asami wish she would look away. “You’re right.” Asami reached absentmindedly for the pen on her desk. “Actually, Varrick asked me if I was single at our meeting. He wanted to set me up with Sheil.” She looked up from the pen and saw Ginni’s eyes widen.

“The mover star?” Plain shock showed on the publicist’s face, but after a brief moment she shook her head and leaned forward, putting both her hands on the desk. “That’s amazing!”

“Wait, you just were telling me how dating a mover star would be a disaster,” Asami pointed out.

“Right, Bolin would be. But this is Sheil,” Ginni said. “He’s well-spoken. He gives interviews about the cultural impact of movers. And he’s a do-gooder. He started that charity to donate food to suffering Earth Kingdom towns that Kuvira hasn’t gotten to yet.”

“But Bolin’s the one out there actually helping,” Asami objected. “Sheil’s charity ignores that the major issue with food supply right now is the large number of bandits raiding farms. The Earth Kingdom grows most of our world’s food, so donating it is like trading back their own goods.”

Ginni raised an eyebrow. “Do me a favor and don't say that to the press? Anti-charity is never a good stance. Even though I’m sure you’re right.” Asami sighed, but Ginni continued. “My point is that Sheil’s public image is about as good as it can get. And the two of you will be sure to make the front page.”

“Well, I’m not going.”

“What?” Ginni asked, incredulously.

“I turned down Varrick’s offer,” Asami explained.

A closed expression flickered across Ginni’s face. “Why would you do that?”

Asami folded her arms. “I—I just didn’t want to go, that’s all.”

“Asami, Sheil is the most eligible bachelor in the city. Heck, in the world. Am I missing something?”

Yes. “I’ve got a lot on my plate,” Asami said vaguely. “Besides, he’s...not my type.” She dropped her gaze.

“Well that makes sense,” Ginni said, sardonically. “Actually while we’re on that subject, it reminds me: do you have any skeletons in your dating closet? Any vindictive exes?”

“No,” Asami replied, relieved for the subject change. “Mako and I are on good terms.”

Ginni cocked her head. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Asami thought for a moment. “He’s Bolin’s brother? Used to be a famous pro-bender? And he was on ‘Team Avatar’ also; I’m sure I’ve mentioned him.”

“No, you haven’t...” Ginni took her glasses off and cleaned them on her shirt, deep in thought. “Wait, Team Avatar, that’s it!” She put her glasses back on and gave Asami an urgent look. “Isn’t he that cop who was with the Avatar? It was in all the papers.”

“Yes, he and Korra dated for a bit.” Asami dropped her eyes back to the pen still in her hand.

Ginni let out an exasperated sigh. “And just when I thought there’d be no more damage control. Please tell me you didn’t swoop in and date him after her she had to go back home?”

“What?” Asami’s eyes snapped up. “Of course not,” she said sharply. “Mako and I dated before they did.”

“And is there a chance you two might date again? Because that could look like you were profiting off of her injury.”

“That’s disgusting! I would never do that to h—“ Asami stopped herself, suddenly remembering Korra’s bout of amnesia. She made herself exhale before speaking again, trying to ignore the guilt in the pit of her stomach. “Mako and I are done. I can promise you that.”

Ginni gave her a skeptical look. “But you’re on good terms?”

“We’re friends, yes. He even helped me out with the infrastructure project a couple of months ago.”

“Well,” Ginni began, surprisingly softly, “just be careful with that.” She stopped and cleared her throat. When she spoke again her voice was laced with her usual cynical tones. “I mean, if people see you and Hot Cop together on the streets, they might be tempted to leap to conclusions.”

“Please don’t call him that,” Asami said, wearily.

“Because you still won’t give interviews, people are dying for information about you,” Ginni continued, ignoring Asami’s remark. “So they’ll sensationalize anything that they think sheds insight. Just trust me, okay? The last thing you want is a newspaper headline that reads: ‘Future Industries CEO Sato as Ruthless in Life as in Business: Steals the Avatar’s Man?’” Ginni blocked out the words with her hand as she spoke. “Look, I know I’m not great with puns on the spot,” she added, playfully.

Asami was in no mood. She looked down at the letter lying in her still-open drawer, before focusing back on the publicist. “Ginni,” she began quietly, “in your professional opinion, do you really think that something like that would make the papers?”

Ginni shrugged. “I really think it’s not worth the risk. I doubt it would make the front page, but if it’s a slow news cycle? I could easily see that getting printed. And if it does, then by midday you’ll have all of Republic City thinking twice before buying your products.”

And news would reach Harbor City by evening, Asami thought.

Chapter Text

Asami sat at her desk, her mind far away from the expense report Shoji had given her. It wasn’t until there was a knock on her office door that she realized she had covered the margins of the first page with doodles of a steering linkage system. She guiltily dropped her pen. “Come in.”

Anju’s familiar face poked into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Miss Sato. There’s a ‘Mako’ to see you?” The secretary’s tone was one of bemusement.

Asami nodded. “Send him in,” she said, opening the top drawer of her desk. Inside lay three identical sets of keys.

Half a moment later her friend walked into the room, looking as stiff as ever. He gave a small smile and nodded his head. “Asami, hello.”

“Mako, it’s good to see you.” Asami rose out of instinct, but regretted her choice almost immediately. Should I hug him? Instead, she snatched up the keys and awkwardly held her hand out. “Just like you asked,” she said, trying to fill the silence as he approached her.

Mako accepted them, remaining firmly on the opposite side of the desk. “Thank you. And...sorry about this.”

“It’s not a problem,” she said without hesitation. And it’s hardly his fault. Though for the most part Mako’s family had been relatively careful about locking the mansion as they came and went, Grandma Yin had gotten in the bad habit of losing keys. It had taken three instances of her turning back up at the front door empty-handed, the last of which took place after a trip to the market, for Daisuke to finally tell Asami what had happened. She promptly ordered the locks changed, but decided the transition might go over best if Mako were the one to hand out the new keys. Only Chow and Meng-Meng would get them. “I made you an extra set,” Asami said, gesturing towards Mako’s hand. “So that you can visit any time you’d like.”

“Oh—thanks.” Mako said, considering the keys in his hand.

He knows I’m talking about visiting his family, right? Asami studied his face, but it remained a mask, as always. The silence seemed to grow. “Well, I know they’d love to see you,” she offered, putting a hand on her hip.

Mako looked back up. “Right, I’ll try to stop by more.” He fidgeted with the keys once more before shoving them into his pocket. “I guess you don’t see much of them? Living here I mean?”

“Actually, I started training sessions in my gym again, so I’m there pretty regularly.” Is that going to make him feel better or worse? “Everyone seems to be doing well.”

“Good, good.” Mako shifted uncomfortably. “How are you doing?”

Asami gestured around her office. “The same. Lots of work, as always.”

He nodded. “I know the feeling. Actually, I’ve been meaning to apologize. For canceling our lunch a couple of weeks ago, I mean.”

It was closer to a couple of months. Asami had told Bolin at their meeting that she would reach out to his brother more, and after getting back to Republic City she had tried to make good on that promise. Yet once Mako had to back out of the day they had chosen, the urgency to reschedule somehow vanished as well. “It’s okay; we’re both busy.”

“I know this is last minute, but I’m free for lunch today. I’m actually off the clock all day,” Mako said. “I was going to stop in and do some paperwork—you know, just to stay ahead—but I can always push that to the afternoon.”

Asami hesitated, Ginni’s words of warning filling her head. “Well, I have a meeting at noon over at City Hall...” she said, slowly. Ginni would kill me if I’m spotted with him. But when she looked at her friend’s face, a pang of guilt shot through her. “But that should only last an hour. And then the rest of my afternoon is blocked off for shop work. So yes, I’m free if a little after one works for you?”

Mako nodded, looking visibly relieved. “If you want, we could pick a restaurant nearby. The police headquarters are in that area anyway.”

“How about Capital City Kitchen?” Asami suggested. “It’s right around the corner from my meeting. I can stop in on my way and set a reservation.”

“Alright, that sounds good. I’ll—uh—I’ll see you then.” He made a gesture that was half in between a wave and a salute, and promptly rushed out of the office.

Mako hadn’t been gone a minute before Asami’s doubts filled her head. ‘If people see you and Hot Cop together on the streets, they might be tempted to leap to conclusions ,’ she heard Ginni say. But I can’t very well cancel on him now, she thought miserably.

The rest of the morning passed slowly while Asami tried unsuccessfully to push PR concerns from her mind. As she drove towards City Hall, the same internal conversation continued. Let people think what they want, I’m allowed to have a friend, she thought defiantly. Yet no sooner would that cross her mind than she would picture a stack of newspapers with a sensationalized headline, making their way south by boat.

Asami was just as distracted in her meeting with Sarika, though resigned to her fate. Korra wouldn’t believe it anyway, she told herself. Yet the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise. For a mad second she considered asking Sarika how seriously he took the newspapers, but thought better of it. Asami tapped her pen nervously and glanced up at the clock. To her horror, only ten minutes remained.

“No, Asami,” Sarika was saying, his voice sounding far away. “I think this is a vine type forty-seven B. I know it branches like type twelve, but its base doesn’t look right.”

“Right,” Asami responded reflexively. I could always explain any headline to her in my letters.

“Are—are you okay? Did you hear what I said?”

She could feel the planner’s eyes on her. Asami snapped her head back to the chart. “You-think-it’s-a-vine-forty-seven-B-because...” she spit the words back, only just then hearing them for the first time. “No,” she said slowly. “The base could be at a different depth than the type-twelve drawing. I see what you’re saying, but forty-seven types don’t have this spiral.”

“Maybe it’s a new type?” Sarika asked. “I can get to sketching if so.”

Not another, Asami thought. Though the complexity of the infrastructure project was a stimulating challenge, some days its enormity only served to tire her. “Let me run this by Jinora,” she said. “I’ll be stopping over to the island tomorrow anyway with fabric samples.” Her eyes instinctively moved to the clock once more.

Sarika nodded. “That sounds fine.” He adjusted his glasses. “Do you need to be somewhere? You’ve seemed a little bit distracted.”

Asami dropped her eyes to his face. “Sorry—no. I mean...I’m meeting a friend for lunch in a few minutes. I don’t want to be late.”

“Well, with this vine mystery we’re at as decent stopping place as any we’re likely to get. We can just pick this up next time.” He gave a small smile.

“Thank you,” Asami said, considering him.

“Where are you going?” Sarika asked congenially as he rolled up the papers on the desk.

“Oh, just Capital’s.” With their numerous meetings, many of which extended into the night, Asami and Sarika would frequent the restaurant for takeout at least once a week. “You should come too.” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Sarika balked, eyes widening. “Oh...well...I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

I can’t take it back now, she thought, irritated with herself. “You wouldn’t be. It’s just my friend Mako. I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you.” Asami had no clue whether or not it would make Mako happy in the slightest, but she tried to take comfort in the fact that Sarika’s presence would solve her PR problem.

“Well then, I’d love to,” he said in a voice that couldn’t quite match the enthusiasm of his words.

How bad can it be? The two finished packing up the materials and walked over to the restaurant, idly chit-chatting on the way.

After a year of working with Sarika, Asami felt completely at ease in his presence. Though she was relatively certain he had feelings for her, she knew it was never an envelope he’d push, which gave her an odd feeling of comfort and guilt at the same time. Still, in many ways, the planner was the closest thing she had to a friend these days. Asami had almost come to desire their small moments away from the paperwork. Sarika had a sharp tongue, when he was willing to use it, and had a talent for turning mundane events into entertaining tales.

Today, it was a story about his roommate that carried them to the restaurant. Sarika barely knew the man, but he had needed someone to occupy his second bedroom of his apartment ever since his original roommate moved to the Fire Nation. The new one was polite and amiable, but had an odd habit of purchasing food that he would let spoil. “It’s getting so bad I may have to try and take up cooking again!” Sarika said, gesturing wildly with his arms.

“He wouldn’t mind if you used his food?” Asami asked, chuckling lightly.

“That’s the thing, he keeps buying more and just letting the older vegetables rot. And the weirdest part is that I actually never see him eat. It’s bizarre.” Sarika shook his head and pushed the door to the restaurant open.

“Sarika! Miss Sato!” The day-time hostess came rushing up to them. “Your table is ready right this way.”

“Actually Kame, we’ll be needing a table for three,” Asami said. “Is that available?”

“Anything for our best customers,” Kame responded with a smile. She led the way to a small booth in the corner of the restaurant and waited while Asami and Sarika took their seats. “Your server will be over shortly for drink orders.”

“Thank you,” Sarika said with a smile.

Asami flicked her eyes towards the door, but after seeing it was empty turned to the planner. “So you’ve tried to cook before?”

“If you can call it that,” he said, shrugging. “I tried my hand at a few dishes when I was in university. It was a miserable failure, but I got lucky when I started dating a girl who worked in a local café. She would give me free food.” Sarika suddenly looked away. “I mean—uh—we broke up though.” He cleared his throat. “Do you cook?”

Asami did her best to ignore the abrupt change in conversation. “I can make tea,” she said, dryly. A sudden movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. After realizing who it was, she rose and turned towards her approaching friend. “Mako,” she called.

Mako’s eyes flicked from Asami to Sarika as he neared the table. Sarika dutifully stood as well, and adjusted his glasses. To her surprise, Mako gave Asami a quick hug. “This is Sarika,” she said after they broke apart. The two men gripped each other’s hands. “He’s the city planner I’ve been partnering with. I hope you don’t mind that I brought him.” She forced her face to stay unassuming, though felt the guilt bubbling in her stomach.

“Of course not,” Mako replied graciously, nodding towards Sarika. The three squeezed into the booth, Asami sitting in the middle. Silence fell over the table almost immediately.

Sarika made to adjust his glasses once more, but stopped himself. “So...” he began, awkwardly. “You’re a cop, right? I think Asami’s mentioned.”

“Detective actually,” Mako said curtly.

“Mako was crucial in the Red Monsoon stakeout,” Asami offered, looking back and forth as she spoke.

Sarika nodded. “I think I read something about that in the papers.”

Mako inclined his head slightly and flipped his menu open, though it was clear he wasn’t reading it. Why did I think this was a good idea? Asami thought, desperately. “Mako also used to play for the Fire Ferrets,” she tried.

“That’s pro-bending, right?” Sarika asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yes, I was the firebender for the team,” Mako replied. “Do you follow the sport much?”

“No,” the planner said, sounding dejected. Asami prevented herself from rolling her eyes. It was hardly Sarika’s fault, but it would have been an easy subject to discuss. Sarika tried again. “Well I mean, a lot of people at Ba Sing Se University followed the radio coverage regularly, but I was a little bit more focused on my studies.”

"And your cooking," Asami teased. Sarika flushed and Mako dropped his eyes back to his menu, frowning slightly. 

A waiter appeared who Asami recognized as Yuu. “Flaming fire flakes for the table,” he said, placing the bowl down in the middle, along with three glasses of water. May I take your drink orders? Miss Sato, we have a fine new sake available, recently imported from Ember Island.”

“Just tea for everyone, I think,” she asked, giving a quick glance around the table.

“Very well then,” Yuu said with a small bow.

Asami could feel Mako’s questioning gaze on her. “Sarika and I have a lot of business lunches here,” she explained, almost apologetically. The last thing I need is for Mako to think I have a drinking problem.

He nodded and looked towards Sarika. “So, you attended Ba Sing Se University?” he asked. “Does that mean you were there when the city fell too?”

“No, fortunately not,” Sarika responded. “I graduated shortly after President Raiko’s election, and began working for him almost immediately when he filled up his office.”

He must have been the top of his class to get that kind of offer with no experience. “So then you were in Republic City during Harmonic Convergence,” Asami said. “You saw the vines get created.”

“Yeah, what was that like?” Mako asked, leaning forward. Asami couldn’t tell if he was earnestly interested or simply glad for something to talk about.

Sarika’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them. “Well I was inside for a lot of it,” he began slowly. “But—weren’t you there as well?”

Mako didn’t hesitate. “We were at the South Pole with Korra.”

“Why?”

The firebender cast a sideways glance at Asami. “For Team Avatar...Asami, you didn’t mention?”

Asami saved herself from responding by quickly eating a sizable handful of fire flakes. She stifled a cough at the almost instantaneous burn, refusing to show any outward sign of discomfort.  Instead she gestured towards her full mouth, feeling tears from the heat creeping towards her eyes.

Sarika gave her an inquisitive look of his own before answering. “No, she hasn’t talked much about that. I mean I know you guys fought alongside the Avatar for a little, but she’s never mentioned specifics.”

Asami made herself swallow. “It didn’t come up,” she said roughly, reaching for her water. It wasn’t completely a lie; Sarika never pressed a point with her, even when she would only give him short answers.

“Well,” Mako said looking back towards Sarika. “We were at the South Pole to help Korra get inside the southern portal, and then to fight with her while she tried to stop Unalaq and Vaatu.”

Sarika’s eyes widened. “You did that?” He asked Asami, sounding impressed.

“Not exactly,” she said, setting her glass down. “Mako was the one inside the Spirit World with her, protecting her body. I was just helping out the injured.”

“After organizing the aerial strike,” Mako pointed out.

“Which failed.” Asami looked towards him with a warning look, hoping he’d take the hint to drop the subject.

Sarika, unfortunately, wasn’t so willing. “You were in the Spirit World?” he said in disbelief. “I heard stories about the Avatar being a giant blue spirit herself. Did you see that? Was it scary?”

“I don’t—” Asami began, but Mako cut her off.

“It was a little intimidating,” he confessed. “But mostly it was hopeful. We thought the battle had been lost, but then Korra went to meditate and the next thing we knew—“

“Mako,” Asmai interrupted, “maybe we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding defensive.

She hesitated, acutely aware of Sarika’s eyes on her. “Given Korra’s condition, I don’t know that she would appreciate the story.”

Mako furrowed his brow. “This is about how she saved the world,” he protested.

And now she feels guilty that she can’t, Asami thought. "I just think..." she glanced towards Sarika as she searched for the words. “She might not necessarily want tales about her powers to be a focal point. Not now.”

 “But—“ Mako started.

Her patience had suddenly worn away. “Mako, she’s barely walking around again,” Asami snapped. She closed her eyes, regretting her words instantly. An uncomfortable silence fell over the table once more.

Sarika cleared his throat. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he said slowly, sliding out of the booth. “If the waiter comes—just—you know what I like,” he said to Asami.

She took another drink of water as she watched Sarika hurry away. Mako turned a page on his menu, but she could feel his quiet anger next to her. “Mako, I’m sorry,” she said, putting a hand on his forearm. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s only...the way Korra was talking about her injury before she left...I just get uncomfortable reveling in how awesome her astral projection was when she still isn’t even in a place to communicate.”

Mako clenched his jaw, but gave a short nod. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.

“I know you didn't,” Asami answered, wondering if Mako had any idea why she really snapped.

He suddenly looked up from his menu. “Why isn’t she writing back though? To anyone, that is. A few months I understand, but it’s been over a year.”

“Here’s your tea!” Yuu’s sudden appearance made Asami jump. She made herself smile as the waiter set down the pot and cups, slightly relieved for the interruption. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mako hastily scanning the menu once more. He probably wants this lunch over as much as I do. “I’ll come back for your order,” Yuu said.

“No, I think we’re ready now,” Asami said. “I can order for Sarika.”

“Ah, very good,” the waiter said, leaning in.

“We’ll split the Komodo chicken and the Fire Fountain noodles,” she said.

“I’ll have the noodles too,” Mako said, clearly not having read the other options. Yuu collected the menus, gave a short bow, and hurried away. “So, you know Sarika pretty well then?” Mako asked.

Asami poured out tea for herself and Mako, more so she didn’t have to look at him directly than anything else. “We’ve been working together on the infrastructure for about a year,” she said evenly. “Why?”

“I just think it’s strange that you share food with him, but he didn’t know your whereabouts during Harmonic Convergence.”

That’s the detective in him speaking. “I prefer to keep things professional,” she lied.

Mako frowned slightly. “You know,” he started slowly, “Bolin wrote to me after you saw him—” he stopped and looked up suddenly. Asami turned her head and saw Sarika walking back towards the table.

He smiled as he squeezed back into the booth. “Sorry about that. Did the waiter come?”

“I ordered our usual,” Asami said. Sarika nodded contentedly and helped himself to some tea. She turned back to study Mako. What would Bolin have said?

“How are the wingsuits coming?” Mako asked suddenly, apparently not willing to continue the conversation in front of Sarika.

Asami’s stomach gave an unpleasant turn at the question. “Not as well as I’d like,” she confessed.

“I thought you were going to Air Temple Island with fabrics tomorrow?” Sarika put in.

“I have a few different swaths of materials that I want them to airbend,” she replied nodding. “But even with that it will probably be another couple of months before I settle on one. And that’s not taking into account how long I’ll need to design the suit itself. It could easily be another year.” Asami took a more manageable amount of fire flakes, trying to avoid everyone’s eyes.

Sarika nodded, but Mako asked, Does research and development normally take this long?”

“It depends,” she said, neutralizing the spice with a small sip of tea. “For complicated projects, maybe. But the truth is I’m not able to prioritize the wingsuits. I have a lot of other production deadlines on top of the infrastructure work. And unfortunately the suits won’t earn profit, so I have to focus on my other projects first.”

“Oh,” Mako said, sounding skeptical. “It’s just that you seemed excited about the suits the last time we spoke.”

Help me save the airbenders. Asami squirmed in her seat. “I am,” she insisted. “I work on them in my free time. But I have to keep my company moving in the right direction.” Mako’s eyes seemed to bore into her. “It’s just business,” she offered, lamely, her throat suddenly feeling tight.

“The infrastructure work is incredibly demanding, too,” Sarika put in. “My entire job is devoted to it.”

Mako gave a small smile. “Well it’s paying off. The city’s steadily improving from the looks of it. How is it going on your end?”

“The residential sectors are still going to take some time,” Asami said, relieved for the change in subject.

Sarika seemed less so. “We probably should avoid specifics though,” he said, with a cautious glance in Asami’s direction. She met his gaze with a questioning one of her own, causing him to look away. “I just mean, it’s not information we’re making publicly available.”

“Oh—no,” she agreed. “You’re right I suppose.” She glanced apologetically towards Mako.

He tried a different approach. “Your meeting with Bolin—does that mean you’re working in the Earth Kingdom too?” 

Asami could see Sarika’s grip around his mug tighten, but she answered all the same. “In a matter of speaking. Kuvira wants the United Republic and Earth Kingdom connected with one another, so there’s going to be updates to the rail system.”

“Republic City takes priority, though,” Sarika put in.

“That makes sense when so much is in flux in the Earth Kingdom,” Mako said.

“Exactly,” Asami replied. “As soon as we have a better idea about the stability of the neighboring states, we’ll be able to announce the plan to the public. But for now, this is under wraps.” Sarika nodded in agreement, looking visibly relieved. It’s not as though Mako has anyone to tell, she thought, though the planner had no way of knowing that.

Mako inclined his head. “I understand. Did you meet Kuvira then? Bolin hasn’t given me the clearest description of her.”

Asami looked to Sarika, not wishing to say more than he was comfortable telling. He reflexively raised a hand to his glasses as he answered, “Kuvira was unable to attend. But it seems like things are moving in the right direction.”

Asami tried to catch his eye, but he was pointedly looking into his tea. She knew that Sarika shared her concerns about Baatar’s framing of the situation. She suddenly found herself wishing the planner would go to the bathroom again so she could speak freely. Asami gave a slight shake of her head as she determinedly ignored her frustration, and looked back towards Mako. “I actually made a sale from the meeting. It seems that the campaign is in need of advanced technology, which does seem like good indicator of increasing stability.”

“That’s encouraging,” Mako said slowly, “but my department’s constantly getting reports of immigrants from the Earth Kingdom squatting in dangerous areas—even the spirit wilds.”

“Unfortunately it’s the last sector of the city we’ll be able to tackle,” Asami said.

Sarika shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose it’s still preferable to dealing with the Earth Kingdom’s bandits.”

“I don’t know.” Asami dropped her voice. “My publicist thinks some of the migration is due to people who are unsure about Kuvira.”

“Chief Beifong’s said the same,” Mako agreed. But she’s biased against Kuvira, Asami thought. She kept it to herself all the same, as Mako continued. “I’m sure it’s a matter of security, but the lack of information is making Earth Kingdom citizens nervous.”

“I don’t like that either, but things have to be better overall now,” Sarika insisted. “My friends at the university wrote the most troubling letters, even a few months after the Earth Queen’s fall.”

“I’m sure it is better,” Asami said, glancing towards Mako who nodded. “It’s just that everything is so uncertain. Even if it’s about safety, it’s hard not to worry with Kuvira being so opaque.”

“I know I’d feel better if a known-entity was leading this campaign,” Mako said, solemnly. “Like Suyin, or even Fire Lord Izumi.”

Asami put a hand to her chin. “I doubt the Fire Nation would want to bring its military to the Earth Kingdom any time soon,” she said. “But it should have been Suyin. I tried talking to Opal about it, but she wouldn't have it. Frankly, I’m still confused why her mother rejected the President’s offer.”

“No,” Sarika said. “It should be the Avatar. The whole world wants her. I just hope she recovers soon. We could use the giant blue spirit again.”

Asami and Mako’s eyes met in silent agreement. Forget the papers; next time I’m having lunch with just him. Ginni would be livid, but Asami needed someone, just one person, who understood.

Chapter Text

“There’s just no way around it,” Asami said, hunching over the map. “Moon Flower Way has to go.”

“I don’t know...” Sarika was ruffling through charts as he answered. He extracted the one he was looking for and turned to quickly cross back to where Asami was standing, stumbling over a chair in the process.

She caught his arm, breaking his fall. “Are you okay?”

He jumped back quickly. “It’s just my shin.” Sarika adjusted his glasses before placing the chart on the table, just above the map. “I still say the vine on Maka'ole Street is more obtrusive.”

Asami leaned back over. “You won’t be saying that in a few years though,” she said, tapping a vine on the projection chart.

“But the vine is obscured by the curve on Maka'ole. We’ll need a speed hump in addition to the work around,” Sarika protested.

“We’ll almost certainly need a ramp on Moon Flower to accommodate the vine growth though.” Asami looked towards him. “I know your apartment is just off of Moon Flower—don’t think I don’t realize what you’re doing here,” she said playfully.

Sarika grinned, though kept his eyes on the map. “Well what is the point of being the city planner if you can’t get the occasional perk?”

Asami had a retort on her tongue when a loud bang made the two of them jump. “Miss Sato!” came a commanding voice, as the door to their meeting room swung open. President Raiko came storming in, looking angrier than she had ever seen him.

“Sir...?” she asked, fighting an instinct to ball her hand into a fist.

“What is the meaning of this?” Raiko marched straight towards their desk holding up what looked like a report in his right hand.

Asami could hear her heart hammering in her chest. She wracked her brains. “I—the meaning of what?” She felt Sarika’s tension just behind her, but didn’t dare turn away from the President to catch his eye.

“This.” Raiko slapped the papers down on the table, and stood glowering.

She glanced down at them, trying to quickly read. The top sheet appeared to be a letter, but only the words ‘legal notice’ registered. “I...don’t know what this is, sir,”

Raiko’s scowl deepened. “No? It’s a notice of a lawsuit.” Asami hesitated, wondering whether she dare ask for more clarification, but luckily he continued before she had the chance. “I just came out of a meeting with Lekh.”

What does Lekh have to do with it? Asami dropped her eyes back to the papers, hoping she could glean some useful information, but her mind was racing too much to focus. “And he’s suing you?”

“Miss Sato, I’m not interested in this act. As it is, I’m considering terminating your contract.”

Asami heard Sarika make a noise that sounded halfway between a word and squeak. “Mr. President,” she said, trying to remain calm, “I’m confused. This is the first I’ve heard of any lawsuit.”

“That’s not how Lekh presented it to me,” Raiko said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re telling me that you had no idea he wanted to sue my office for inaction over the spirit wilds?”

 “No,” she answered, without hesitation. I should have known.

“That’s odd.” Raiko flipped a few pages over on the desk until he found what he was looking for. “Then how do you explain this?” He shoved a sheet roughly towards her.

Asami picked it up, determined to read carefully, but it only took half a moment for her to realize what it was. “This is part of my proposal,” she said, bemused. “The one I submitted to your office over a year ago to secure this contract.” She looked up at the President’s face, trying to understand. “Why is it here?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. Lekh seems to have liked the section about compensating business owners with holdings in the wilds.” Raiko leaned forward menacingly, placing both hands on the desk. He was already an imposing figure, but this made him downright terrifying. “He has included it in his lawsuit to demonstrate that we had a viable plan that we sat on, to the harm of businesses.”

Lekh’s not wrong. Still, Asami knew her own proposal contained nothing more than rough suggestions lacking in financial details.

“Sir.” Sarika’s voice sounded uncertain. “I don’t understand how this is Asa—Miss Sato’s fault.”

A vein in Raiko’s temple throbbed. “This proposal is not publically available,” he said, fixing his stony stare on the young planner. “And it puts us in a precarious position, especially when Lekh indicated that he’s going to look for other business owners to sign on. This could turn this into a class action suit.”

“But Sir,” Asami said, holding her hands out in front of her, “I didn’t give him the proposal.”

“He told me that you two were on the same page.”

“I don’t know where he would have gotten that idea. I didn’t know about this lawsuit until just now.”

Raiko stood up straight again, his eyes boring into her. “So you’re not ‘allies’?” he asked.

Asami felt her blood freeze. “We’re...I...” She could feel Sarika looking at her, and suddenly wished that he would leave the room. “It’s not like that. Lekh sold me Future Industries Tower,” she began, in a voice much calmer than she felt. “After he showed me the space, he tried to talk to me about the Business Council. He suggested that we watch each other’s backs, but—“

“So you admit it then?”

“No! I was just trying to get the conversation to end. I never agreed to anything specific.”

The President’s mouth twitched. “Yet he had a copy of your proposal?”

“I don’t understand how. Lekh expressed concern over the spirit wilds and the direction of our project, so I explained to him that while I submitted my ideas, it was beyond the scope—”

“Then you did provide him with information! Choose your words carefully, Miss Sato. You’re dangerously close to being fired on the spot.”

Asami could taste bile in her throat. This contract is everything. But before she could think what to say, Sarika jumped in. “Sir, you can’t do that!”

Raiko turned his anger on him. “Actually, I can. Miss Sato has just admitted to collusion with the man who is now suing this office. I have more than enough cause.”

“But we need Asami!” Sarika’s face was flushed, though his voice was steady. “She’s the one who’s solved most of our infrastructure—“

“Sarika,” Asami said sharply, looking towards him. The last thing I want is for Raiko to feel ganged up on. “The President has every reason to be angry.” She turned back. “Sir, I’m furious. Lekh presented a conversation between us in a misleading way to you. And the fact that he somehow managed to get a copy of my proposal that I didn’t provide him is disquieting, to say the least.” Raiko’s scowl remained fixed, but Asami could see his eyes moving with thought. “I can promise you that Lekh and I have not corresponded outside of Business Council meetings since he sold me the tower. I would never want to sue this office, or enable Lekh to. It damages my reputation just as much as yours.”

“That may be true. But whether you wanted to or not, you did enable him,” Raiko said, straightening his tie. “He told me you two were on the same page, so then you may as well use that. Make this go away.”

“...Sir?” she asked hesitantly.

“This lawsuit. Get Lekh to drop it or else I will be revisiting your contract. I don’t want this getting out.”

“But Mr. President,” Sarika said forlornly, “Lekh could be giving a press conference as we speak."

 “No, he can’t.” Raiko gave a small sigh.  “We have a month to settle this through mediation before a court rules on standing. Until that time it is illegal for him to make it known outside of his council. But once the month is up he’s likely to speak to the press as well as get other business owners to add their names to the suit.” He fixed his eyes back on Asami. “You have thirty days, Miss Sato. Make this disappear.”

Lekh has nothing to lose by suing , Asami thought. And it’s hard to argue that he’s wrong about damages to his bottom-line. “Wait!” Asami said suddenly. Raiko had turned as if to leave, but her words stopped him. “Maybe we can figure this out within the month—all of this.”

“What do you mean?”

Asami put her hand to her chin. “Right now the lawsuit is favorable for Lekh. We haven’t addressed the wilds yet, so his case is strong. But the real power of the suit comes from others signing on.” She paused to make sure Raiko was following. “Lekh isn’t the kind of person to take risks. If this becomes a class-action suit, it means that the costs will be spread out among everyone involved. Even if we won the case, Lekh wouldn’t have to pay much, and he’d have half the Business Council allied with him.”

Raiko nodded. “I’m sure if they lost, that would only serve to increase their frustrations.”

“Exactly,” Asami said. “And unfortunately it seems likelier that they would win, at least as things stand now. But our next council meeting is in three weeks. If we presented an actionable plan for the wilds, then that changes the Pai Sho board. Lekh would see that a judge would be less likely to rule in his favor, and he also would have greater difficulty getting anyone to join him.”

“You may be right about that,” the President answered, “but unfortunately the city cannot incur the cost of dealing with the wilds at this time, as you well know. We still are spending countless yuans on the infrastructure repairs, and this isn’t taking into account the upgrades to our rail system that will be starting soon.”

Asami expected that answer, though it was no less frustrating to hear it. “But if Lekh sues the city for inaction—”

“Which is exactly why you need to convince him to drop it.” Any warmth that had been in Raiko’s voice moments before vanished.

Sarika held a hand up. “But sir, sooner or later we’ll have to address the wilds. The reopening of the major roadways may have satisfied business owners for a short period of time, but it’s been nearly a year and a half since Harmonic Convergence. And right now we’re focused on residential areas.”

“Then they’ll have to learn that this city’s priorities will not always line-up with the demands of the private sector,” Raiko insisted through gritted teeth.

“Mr. President, it’s more than that,” Asami said. “This infrastructure project has always been meant to include a plan to make the wilds profitable. It’s going to cost money in the short-term, but overall the city will benefit.”

She could tell that they were pushing Raiko too far as the vein in his temple made its reappearance. “We do not have money in the short-term. Miss Sato, I understand that Lekh manipulated the situation and manipulated you, but the fact is the lawsuit would not exist if it you hadn't told him what you did. I have made my instructions to you perfectly clear, and to be frank, it's more generous than you deserve.”

My proposal isn’t what motivated Lekh; it was the year of taking losses. Asami was sure Raiko had to see that, but somehow shifting the blame to him didn't seem like the right approach. Still, the idea of persuading Lekh to stop caring was even more ridiculous. “If I can’t get Lekh to drop the lawsuit, what will firing me accomplish?”

The President’s eyes widened in anger. "Accomplish? It will be what you deserve for your foolishness. It would also show that I'm not sitting on my hands for this project. If the press gets wind of this, people will demand action.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “And what’s to stop me from signing onto Lekh’s lawsuit myself, in that case?” Out of her periphery, Asami saw Sarika’s shocked expression.

Raiko slammed a fist down on the table. “Miss Sato, do not try my patience. Your thirty days are a courtesy.”

“You’re already threatening to fire me.” Asami couldn’t quite contain her frustration. “If you do, my publicist will urge me to publically endorse the lawsuit. She’ll have me call attention to my proposal that outlined action in the wilds a year ago.”

“You only provided a rough concept,” Raiko spat. “Your ‘action’ was never seriously in consideration.”

Asami took a breath. “I know that, sir. I’m just telling you the reality of how this would play out.” For an uncomfortable minute, she realized how much she sounded like Ginni. “My point is that opposing each other isn't going to help. Both your office and my company’s image are tied to the infrastructure, and I think we both want the same things in the long run. I have no wish to pit myself against you, but if I’m fired, I won’t have a choice. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for Future Industries.” Asami could feel Raiko’s quiet anger, but he made no move to say anything. Sarika, on the other hand, was staring as if he had never seen her before. She continued. “Lekh doesn’t have a reason to drop the lawsuit right now, and I doubt I’ll be able to find one on my own. We need to work out a plan.”

The President took a few brooding breaths before responding. “I suppose he's unlikely to be persuaded by much else. That man is utterly obstinate."

Lekh was certainly calculating, though he had never struck Asami as unreasonable. Better to paint him as the 'bad guy' than me, she supposed. "He's certainly driven by personal interest. Even if the proposal we work out isn't convincing to him, it should at least be enough to keep the other business owners satisfied."

"You may be right about that. I have a meeting with the City Treasurer tomorrow morning. If you come up with a plan today, I can discuss the financials with her.”

Sarika adjusted his glasses. “Sir, it might be best if we had your input on this. Asami and I can plot the roadways easily, but this is going to significantly impact Republic City’s future.”

Raiko looked as if he wanted to object, but instead frowned and looked towards the clock. “Very well. I was planning on taking lunch, but I suppose I am free for the next hour and a half..”

“Sarika and I often work over take-out,” Asami said, trying to make her voice as affable as possible. This meant that she wouldn’t be able to get back to Future Industries Tower in time for her meeting with Iluq, who was looking to purchase a fleet of Satomobiles for his company. Katsu should be able to close the deal without me, she thought, forcing her attention back on the President.  “Whaletail Mart is only a few blocks away and has a wide variety—”

“No,” Raiko said. “I don’t care for raw fish. I will have my secretary pick us up something from Kolau Cuisine.”

Asami and Sarika exchanged a look. She could see the corner of his mouth twitching. That was their least favorite restaurant in the district, though they both knew better than to say anything.

As it turned out, the bland Earth Kingdom cuisine quickly proved to be the least of their problems. The meeting began harmoniously enough, the three hunched over the table, reviewing a list of property owners and building types within the wilds. Yet a half an hour had barely passed before Raiko began complaining of the heavy financial burden on the city.

“I don’t see why we need to give the option for owners to sell their real estate back to the city,” he said, pushing cabbage around his container. “If we simply offered them a share of the profits from whatever tourism this plan brings in, then we wouldn’t have large upfront capital costs.”

Sarika shook his head. “Sir, without a plan for compensation, Lekh will never drop the lawsuit. He’ll claim it’s an unfair burden on his business.”

“But their earnings would eventually make up for their losses,” Raiko insisted.

“There’s too much risk involved,” Asami explained. “Even though the wilds present a marketing opportunity for our city, the buildings within it are going to be viewed as valueless until the money comes in. The most generous profit-sharing plan won’t look attractive to land-owners for at least another year or two.”

The President shoved his take-out container towards the center of the table, where Asami’s barely-touched soup sat. “Won’t everyone want to sell then?”

“Not necessarily,” she said. “Some will see the potential and want to invest in it, which is accomplished by keeping their holdings.”

“Even so we’re looking at enormous costs,” Raiko pointed out. “We can’t incur such losses right now, nor should we have to be the ones to shoulder all the risk. Not with the instability in the Earth Kingdom.”

“If we lose support of the Business Council we’ll incur losses anyway.” Sarika had spoken quickly, but dropped his eyes immediately. It was rare for him to ever speak so bluntly in Raiko’s company.

Asami decided to help him out. “Besides, this would be an investment, not a loss. If we wait much longer to build up Republic City’s reputation as the city of the new spiritual age, another could try. Ba Sing Se has been stabilized. Zaofu is already hailed for its modern progress. If we don’t adapt soon we could fall behind. It's more of a risk not to act.”

Sarika smiled slightly at her. “And that’s a compelling enough case to get the public to potentially support a tax increase that would make up for any financial burden.”

Raiko furrowed his brow. “You’d have me insist that the people pay, rather than requiring business owners to be act as investors in their own real estate?”

“Taxes spread out the burden,” Asami said. “Plus it all but guarantees the lawsuit will be dropped. Once the investment pays off, you’ll be able to offer tax breaks again.” And it should be just in time for the next election cycle. Still, she knew Raiko was a slave to his immediate polling numbers.

The President didn’t look convinced. “If we present the projected profits to the council, that may be enough to convince them their investments will pay off. Besides, the vines are the result of a terrorist attack on the city, and should be treated as a natural disaster of kinds. Business owners should be expected to step up and invest in the rebuilding efforts.”

“They’re not!” Asami hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but every word Jinora had said to her on the matter was suddenly filling her head. She softened her tones before continuing. “Sir, I’ve said it before, but these vines are an opportunity. Tourism in Harbor City has increased since harmonic convergence, and that’s just because people want to see the Southern Lights. We have hordes of spirits living in those wilds that no one even sees. We should be thinking of the vines as their habitat, and the spirits as new citizens.”

"Spirits don’t pay taxes,” Raiko said coldly.

“No,” she managed, struggling not to giggle at the idea of it, “but they do provide value to the city. They mark the new spiritual age, and people will want to travel here to understand what that means.”

Raiko clasped his hands thoughtfully. “Even so, we have people squatting in the wilds. And the spirits I’ve encountered have been a bit prickly. I think it would be too dangerous to urge tourists to wander in there unattended. Which means we’d need to hire tour guides...another expense.”

“The airbenders!” Sarika exclaimed. Both Asami and Raiko stared at him. Flushing slightly, he continued. “Mr. President, I know that since Master Tenzin began training so many new airbenders, the costs for running Air Temple Island have increased.”

“Yes,” the President confirmed. “Fire Lord Izumi has loaned us additional money for the short-term, on the condition that the Fire Nation’s reparations payments will end in a decade.”

Sarika looked suddenly animated. He gets this way when he makes a breakthrough on the roadways, too. “I read about it in the papers,” he said, nodding. “We certainly can’t ask the airbenders to pay for themselves when they fly around the world to help where they’re needed. But perhaps those who are stationed on Air Temple Island, or not fully trained, could lead tour groups.” Sarika looked towards Asami for approval. “After all, they understand the spirits, right?”

“Tenzin places a great emphasis on spirituality in his training,” she confirmed, turning back towards Raiko. “And there are some airbenders who he might not feel comfortable sending out into the Earth Kingdom, but who are more than capable for this.” Otaku and all his bookish knowledge sprang to mind. “It also helps that new airbenders are a direct result of the open spirit portals. It would make sense for them to be championing the wilds.”

Raiko leaned back in his chair. “That is true...though the open portals were met with strong resistance the last time we polled on it.”

“That was before the Avatar’s injury,” Sarika pointed out. “And before the major roadways were back up and running. Every day public opinion on the vines seems to be improving.”

“Yes...her injury,” Raiko said, almost muttering. “It would help if she could somehow give her endorsement on this.”

Asami felt like slapping him. “Korra has given her endorsement on this. People and spirits living together was her vision for the world. That’s why she kept the portals open.”

“We should have the tour guides talk about that,” Sarika offered. “To make sure no one’s forgotten.

Is it that easy for people? “We should erect a statue of her in Republic City Park to make sure no one’s forgotten,” she said irritably.

Sarika merely shrugged. “Maybe we should. The park overlooks the wilds. It would be a nice attraction, and also serve to remind everyone that this is Avatar Korra’s home. Zaofu may have its technology, but no other city can boast that.”

“Well it certainly would indicate that our city’s embracing the new age,” Raiko said. “Though we need to keep in mind the cost.”

Asami suddenly felt a lump in her throat. “I can fund it.” She could feel the eyes of both men on her. "Consider it my apology for alerting Lekh to the proposal," she said, doing her best to sound indifferent.

Raiko gave a nod. "That's reasonable. I could even mention your company in a press conference for the generous gift, of course. It'd certainly keep Lekh in his place."

"Your publicist would like that," Sarika said, grinning. Asami had often complained about her PR meetings and how pushy Ginni could be, especially since forcing Sarika to participate in the press conference designed to make him look uncharismatic. His enthusiasm somehow lessened the guilt.

He’s right. If anything could permanently distance Future Industries from Hiroshi, it would be this. Yet somehow it felt wrong. "That won't be necessary," she said. Everything she had, from her company’s products to her outfit, served to create that space. Asami couldn't have this be about her father...not this.

Chapter Text

Asami waited for the attack, hands raised. Tej paced on the other side of the mat, punctuating his steady movements with an occasional twitch of the shoulder or head in an attempt to throw her. It was his knees that betrayed him. Asami saw the forward movement before his rush had even begun. As Tej approached, the world seemed to slow. She ducked his first swipe easily, but barely spun sideways to avoid his sweeping leg. Still, she managed to grab hold of his lingering wrist, slowing him just enough for her to deliver a well-placed kick. As he stumbled off-kilter, Asami slammed him in the chest.

Tej fell into a roll gracefully, as always, and ended up on his knees facing her. “Good,” he said, breathlessly, “but your punch was light again.”

Asami offered a hand to help him up. “When I use my glove it won’t matter,” she said. “And I save time delivering the counter attack.”

Tej smiled, accenting his laugh lines. “You’re not always going to have your glove with you,” he said, not unkindly. “And extra fractions of a second won’t help you if I’m back on my feet. Look, let’s at least work on you bringing your arm back further next time. We’ll see how you do with it.”

“Any chance you can make today another double session?”

“Yesterday wasn’t enough?” Tej retrieved his towel from the bench and sat down as he dabbed at his neck. “‘fraid I can’t today though. Tarla needs me home early. We’ve got Rei’s birthday party tomorrow and I’ve got to help with the preparations.”

“Oh that’s right,” Asami said, moving to sit on the bench as well. “I forgot you had mentioned. How old is she turning again?”

“Seven,” he said in a sigh, though a smile still showed on his face. If ever there was a proud parent, it was Tej. It was not uncommon for him to talk through their warm-up exercises with stories of what trouble Rei had managed to get herself in, or what book Kavi was attempting to read next. “I don’t know where time goes.”

I know the feeling , Asami thought, though she kept it to herself. Somehow she didn’t think her year of infrastructure work held the same reminiscent value as a parent watching his child age. Though in some ways, time’s never moved slower.

Tej was still talking. “And of course Kavi is completely jealous. I’ve reminded him of his elaborate fifth birthday party that we had a few months ago, not that it does any good. And meanwhile Tarla’s been running herself ragged trying to figure out how we’re going to accommodate fifteen of Rei’s friends.” He threw his hands in the air. “All this headache and I doubt she’ll even be thinking about it in a week. Do you remember your seventh birthday?”

The question caught Asami off-guard. My first birthday without my mother . Her memories of that time were mostly gone, just some snippets here and there: Daisuke holding her hand during the funeral, the police towering over her and asking questions, entering her father’s office and seeing him with his head in his hands... I wonder if that was the moment he decided everything. Or perhaps we had a few years free of deception. She realized the silence was growing. “I—I can’t say I remember my birthday specifically,” she managed, forcing herself to give a small smile.

“Well this will be one to remember at least,” Tej said with a chuckle. “It’s going to be airbender-themed. Rei hasn’t been able to get enough of them since we read about that little monk getting her tattoos in the papers a year and a half ago. That kid’s her hero.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head. “But her sixth birthday was during a vacation to Omashu, visiting some family of mine. So she’s been looking forward to this one for a while. And of course guess who has to dress up as a Nomad?”

Asami laughed at that. “You’re a good father,” she said, trying to keep her voice natural. She rose as well.

He shrugged. “I’m sure it’s what anyone would do. But you should stop by, if you can. Party begins at noon. After how much grief I give you in here, it would be good reciprocity.”

“I might have to take you up on that,” Asami lied instinctively. Although Asami worked every day, the weekends were her favorite. She never felt more at ease as she did in her office, knowing no one else was even in the building. It was also the only time when she could work on the wingsuits without feeling guilty about not prioritizing her bottom-line.

Tej was halfway to the door. “You coming?”

“I was going to do a few exercises to cool down,” Asami answered.

“Just don’t overdo it. I’ve got you down for a double session on Monday.”

Asami ended up taking her trainer’s advice, though not out of self-restraint. Only fifteen minutes had passed after Tej’s departure when Tu turned up, hovering in the doorway. Asami was mid-headstand when she saw him, causing her to come crashing down. “Tu! What are you doing here?”

“Woah, didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, in his usual laid-back tones. “You seem kind of strong. I mean I can totally do that too, of course.” He flexed.

Asami rolled her eyes and stood, placing a hand on her hip. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“The mailroom shuts down Friday afternoon. Shouldn’t you?”

Tu’s inflection set her teeth on edge. “I took an extended lunch for my training session.”

Tu leaned his arm against the doorway. “Oh, well, you should check out this fruit drink I came up with, then.”

Asami pushed past his frame. “I really should be getting back,” she lied. I should take the extra hour to go over my notes for the investor meeting next week.

Tu let her pass with no complaint. “That’s fine, I’ll just have you try it next time,” he said confidently.

“Sounds great,” she said, flippantly. Asami rushed down the hall before Tu could say anything more on the matter. Even though she knew he only acted this way out of boredom, it somehow didn’t take away from the aggravation of it all. Her pace had become so hurried that she nearly collided into Daisuke as she entered the foyer.

“Master Asami, I was looking for you. I was worried you had left already.”

Asami knew better than to ask him to stop using ‘Master.’ She had already tried half a hundred times, but the best Daisuke had managed was an uncomfortable ‘Miss Asami’ before falling back into his old habits. She smiled down at his familiar face. “I was just going to head back to my office; what do you need?”

He reached a hand inside his jacket and extracted an envelope. “This arrived for you.”

Asami looked at it, confused. “I never get mail here. It’s always sent to the tower, and I had my address updated from my old office.”

“Yes, Master Asami. But this one was addressed specifically to come here.” Daisuke seemed to extend his arm further.

Hesitantly, she took the envelope from the butler’s hand. It can’t be...she knows where I’ve been sending my letters from. Asami turned it over in her hand to see the writing. Her mouth went dry. She didn’t need to read the words “Republic City Prison” to know who it was from. There on the front of the envelope sat the handwriting that covered too many schematics she had to use—the handwriting too uncomfortably similar to her own. She suddenly felt lightheaded.

Asami forced herself to look back towards Daisuke, the unspoken question plain on his face. “Thank you,” she said, in a low voice. “I’ll—I’ll talk to the postmaster about updating this address too.”

“I can do that, if it pleases you,” Daisuke answered in his usual flat tone.

“Yes, thank you,” Asami said, considering him. She was unpleasantly reminded of Ginni’s warning about Anju. If secretaries are privy to sensitive information, butlers likely know even more, she thought. “Daisuke...what do you think of my father? With what he did, I mean.”

His face remained impassive. “That is not for me to say, Master Asami.”

She hadn’t expected any other response, but the answer was no less vexing. Could he have known about the workshop? “Of course it is. You probably knew him better than anyone,” Asami insisted.

Daisuke raised his eyebrows. “No. Not better than you.”

Asami gave a derisive laugh. “Amon knew him better than me.”

“So you say.”

This was more than Asami could handle. “I should be getting back to my office.” She held up the envelope. “Thank you for giving me this.”

“Of course, Master Asami.” Daisuke gave a small bow and turned to head up the stairs. Asami rushed out the door before anyone else spotted her.

Outside, she dug her car keys out of her pocket with her left hand, Hiroshi’s letter still in her right. For a mad second she fought the urge to crumple it and leave it behind. Instead, she put it in her glovebox, and turned the ignition.

What could he possibly have to say to me? The thought plagued her all the way back to the tower. Once parked, she pulled the envelope out again, this time studying it. The address was written with a steady-hand. Aside from that, there was no useful information to be gleaned. Asami sighed in frustration and climbed out of her car.

The tower was as bustling as ever. Daruka had many lawyers in his employ, as well as a healthy list of clients, so the lobby and lower levels were always full of people and noise during the workweek. She was in no mood for it. After nodding at Jin, the security guard, Asami put her head down and headed towards her private elevator. She unlocked it and climbed in, pushing the button for the forty-second story. Asami knew she needed to clean up after her training session, but if she was to read the letter it would have to be in the comforts of her office. At least there she felt on top of things. The solace of her penthouse sometimes felt too isolating for her liking.

The elevator opened, revealing Anju’s empty desk. She must not be back from lunch yet. Asami continued through, unlocking the door to her own office. She crossed the room and sank into her chair, laying Hiroshi’s letter on top of her desk. Whether she stayed like that for a minute or five, she could not have said. But all the same Asami sat, resting her head on one hand, staring at the envelope.

Why now? Could he have heard about the plan for the wilds? It had been over a month since the initial press conference that immediately followed the Business Council meeting where the plan was unveiled, and almost three full weeks since the follow-up conference, where Tenzin attended to confirm the role of the airbenders. A picture of her and the airbending master had been on the front page of the paper the following day. Just wait until I finish the wingsuits, Dad. Even still, Asami knew it wouldn’t have taken her father that long to send the letter if it was only in reaction to the press.

The longer she stared at the envelope, the more upset she became. What right does he have to contact me after everything? Yet as much as she was angry with her father, she was even angrier with herself for caring. Asami opened the smallest drawer of her desk and removed the few sheets of paper from within. In their place, she threw Hiroshi’s letter and slammed the drawer shut. I should buy a lock for it. She pushed herself out of her chair and walked over to the door leading down to her workshop.

After descending the flight of stairs, Asami instinctively walked over to the table where she had left the steering gear she was in the middle of examining. She sat down and picked up her pencil, determined to finish her sketches. Unbidden, her mind wandered back to the letter. There is nothing he can say to me . The hurt was too deep for an apology to heal her wounds. Not that Asami was sure it even was an apology. For all she knew, it was a letter chastising her for the error of her ways. ‘Ungrateful, insolent child!’ she heard suddenly, though she heard Daisuke’s words as well. ‘No. Not better than you.’

Asami threw down the pencil and walked over to the window, where she could look down on nearly every building in the city. The vantage point did little to clear her head. Competing emotions filled her; she needed to cry, or rage, or run, or maybe even read the letter. Instead, Asami found herself walking over to a workbench on the far side of the room. In its bottom drawer, she extracted her electrified glove. She turned it over in her hand, feeling a sudden wave of disgust.'Equalists? I assure you I have nothing to do with those radicals!’

She plopped down onto a stool, idly disconnecting one of the gas canisters while her mind continued to race. How could he think a letter would change anything when this is his legacy? A sudden, feverish impulse took over, and before Asami knew it, the glove was completely disassembled, its pieces strewn about on the table. As she stared at the results, she barely recalled even reaching for a screwdriver. I can improve this, she suddenly realized. Though the design of the glove had been effective enough, it was always a bit cumbersome, and its wires were exposed on the top, which could give an enemy a chance to sever them. Asami got up and dug through several drawers and shelves, collecting various pieces of hardware and scraps of material before sitting back down.

She felt as though she had barely begun tinkering when Anju’s voice suddenly called out, “Miss Sato?” The secretary stood in the doorway. “Shoji is waiting in your office.”

It’s 2 o’clock already? Asami thought, in horror. “Thank you, Anju, I’ll be right there.” As she rose, she felt dizzy. I should have eaten something...I never even cleaned up. For a moment she considered telling her CFO that she was ill and needed to reschedule for Monday, but she had already delayed meeting with him earlier in the week when an issue on one of her production lines had required her attention.

Asami climbed up the stairs and pushed open the door to her office. Shoji was already sitting at her desk, shuffling through papers. He looked up and smiled at her.

“Sorry for my appearance,” she said, taking her own seat. “I didn’t have a chance to change after my training session.” Shoji’s neatly pressed suit somehow made her feel all the worse.

“That’s quite alright.”

She shifted a few papers on her desk before finding a blank sheet. I should have looked over my notes from our last meeting. “What do you have for me today?”

The CFO’s smile faded a bit. He looked down at his papers once more before speaking. “I’m afraid I don’t have the best news. We’re going to take a bit of a hit.”

Asami couldn’t tell if it was her lack of food, but the room almost seemed to spin at his words. “Why?”

Shoji set his papers down and met her eyes. “Nothing unusual. You put a lot of resources into the development of the engine, but its release has proceeded market demand. Most other businesses are only now back in the black. It will be another few months before owners will be looking to invest in technology.”

“But the engines will be in demand eventually?” Asami asked.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “It’s a short-term hit. I expect two or three quarters. But as things stand now, the year-end employee profit sharing checks that are scheduled to go out in a couple of months will be noticeably lower, and the value of our stock will decrease.”

“So this will be a news story,” she concluded, sitting back. She wondered if Ginni would somehow be able to spin this.

“There’s a few steps we can take to mitigate that,” Shoji said. “And again, this is not out of the ordinary. But there are costs we can cut to keep our bottom-line up. If act we quickly, the drop may be small enough to keep it out of the papers.”

“What are the steps?”

The CFO leaned over his papers again. “The easiest course of action is to stop allowing employees to work overtime.” He glanced back up. “We have to pay them time-and-a-half when they do.”

Asami frowned slightly. “But a lot of workers count on that extra salary. And don’t we benefit from the additional hours of work?”

“It allows our products to come out faster,” Shoji explained. “But it rarely offsets the cost of the overtime rate. It was never even offered when your father ran the company. Now if we get rid—”

“No,” she said suddenly. “We’re keeping it.”

Shoji blinked in bemusement. “But the profit-sharing checks—”

“Will be lower,” Asami finished. “Overtime compensation is a valued benefit here. The checks may be end-of-the-year bonuses, but to artificially increase their amount at the expense of workers who need the extra hours doesn’t seem fair. Besides, any check is going to be viewed as a positive, even if the amount is lower. Cutting benefits on the other hand...that will damage employee satisfaction.”

“But it could keep this out of the papers.”

“Let the papers say what they want.” Her tone was more irritable than she intended. “I also want my salary cut.”

“Your salary?” Shoji shuffled a few pages. “That won’t be nearly enough to offset the drop.”

“I know,” Asami said. “But if my employees are bringing home lower bonuses, I don’t feel right earning my full wage.” It was a meaningless gesture, she knew, but somehow it made her feel better.

The CFO nodded. “If that’s what you want. For the record, I don’t recommend this course of action. Unhappy workers is one thing, but negative press can scare off investors.”

There was truth to that, Asami saw. She sighed. “Do you see any other way?”

Shoji furrowed his brow. “If you won’t take the money out of employee salaries and benefits, the other course of action is to cut operational costs. I don’t recommend pulling our investments, because they set up future profits. And we don’t have any low-performing lines to cut, except the engines that should become profitable within the year.” He leaned back again. “The only other option that remains is to form a partnership with a supplier, or perhaps with a company that could handle our shipping.”

Asami’s stomach gave an unpleasant turn at Shoji’s words. “I tried that before,” she said softly.

“You have many more resources at your disposal now, as well as leverage in the private sector,” he said. “Though I do understand your hesitancy. Most in your position would cut the benefits instead. It’s a simple solution with guaranteed results.”

It’s what my father would have done, Asami knew. Her eyes flicked to her desk drawer. She took a breath. “No,” she said, rising. “Excuse me for a minute, Shoji. I need to have Anju set up a meeting with Pukiq.”

Chapter Text

Asami Sato stood on the raised steps, wearing a fixed expression for the crowd in front of her. In her right hand, she held a glass of champagne, allowing herself only occasional, polite sips. She did her best not to shift her weight either, for fear of tripping on her floor-length gown. On the outside, Asami knew she looked every inch the professional CEO. Inside, she was seething.

It was the man to her right she had to thank for that. Pukiq stood at the microphone stand with ease, pausing every now and then to slick back his freshly oiled hair. Unfortunately, the words coming out of his mouth bore no resemblance to the humble, innocuous speech he had run past Ginni the day before. It started off well enough; Pukiq had thanked the publicist kindly for her introduction. Yet once she retreated to the step behind him, he launched into a series of jokes, each one more inappropriate than the last. It was almost enough to make Asami miss Varrick.

She tried to let her eyes slide out of focus to avoid spotting familiar faces in the crowd, but there was no way for her to close her ears. “Yes, my CFO thought I was daft for partnering with someone so green,” the shipping merchant was saying, “but I told him, ‘Hey. Miss Sato is determined.’ I mean it’s not just anyone who could manage to spin a company reputation so fast.” Pukiq paused for dramatic effect. Asami braced herself for the punchline, wondering if the small, false smile she forced on her face made her look poised or daft. He continued, leaning forward slightly, “I speak, of course, of the six months after which Future Industries couldn’t even give away their Satomobiles.”

Asami took a breath. It will all be over soon. She tried to think to her own upcoming speech as a way to drown out the embarrassed chuckling Pukiq managed to produce. It was meticulously planned, and she had spent the better part of the past two weeks memorizing it. ‘Thank you, Pukiq, for that warm introduction. I think it would be an understatement to say Future Industries is excited about this partnership.’ The words sounded almost mocking now.

She allowed herself a sip of champagne before Pukiq launched into his next joke. “You know I only kid. I think we’re all aware what happened with her father. My same CFO—guy’s a real stiff—wanted to know if I was okay with the Equalist ties. But hey, it’s just shows more of Miss Sato’s qualification. She’s got her dad yet fought alongside the Avatar. Call me crazy, but I like a business partner that’s willing to hedge her bets.”

I’ll call you plenty beyond that. She heard Ginni pointedly clear her throat. Luckily, Pukiq took the hint and launched into some semblance of his planned conclusion. “But really, North Seas Shipping couldn’t be happier about this partnership. You put the biggest tech and biggest shipping company together and great things will happen. Heck, even Raiko is here to celebrate it!” he said, gesturing towards the President with his own champagne glass.” Fool, Asami thought. Don’t bring Raiko into it or he’ll worry that he looks soft on antitrust laws. Pukiq continued, oblivious. “So I know you’ll all help me in welcoming the woman of the hour: Future Industries owner and CEO, Asami Sato.”

Asami shifted her glass into her left hand and walked carefully towards the microphone. She smiled pleasantly and shook Pukiq’s hand, making sure to turn her face to the crowd. The press didn’t disappoint; the flash from several cameras captured the moment Ginni had insisted on when running through the gala’s rehearsal.

The shipping merchant took a step back as Asami spoke into the microphone. “Thank you, Pukiq,” she said reflexively, before stopping herself. If I use my planned speech I’ll look like the stupid girl who didn’t understand his insults. “Yes, thank you for that—warm, tasteful introduction.” She made sure to put more irony on her words than normal. Several titters from the crowd suggested it had not been lost on them. “Don’t worry, Pukiq was merely trying to give you an inside view as to how our partnership is going to be so beneficial: we attack each other before our competitors have a chance to. He tells me it’s something about being ‘first to market.’” A few more appreciative chuckles joined in.

Asami allowed herself a quick glance in his direction. She could see the corners of Pukiq’s mouth curling into a smile in spite of himself. “As to why our esteemed president is here supporting us,” she continued, “I think it’s for the same reason as everyone else. You’re all morbidly curious to see which one of us survives into the next quarter, aren’t you?” The entire room laughed. That should do it.

She took another small swallow of her drink before starting again. “No, as Pukiq indicated, ‘great things’ are indeed on the horizon for both Future Industries and North Seas Shipping. Our partnership ensures steady global delivery, while dropping costs for consumers. North Seas Shipping is able to decrease our delivery time by an estimated full day for non-Earth Kingdom bound goods. In return, a team of engineers, myself included, has been working closely with Pukiq to increase efficiency in his global routing. We’re already predicting a decrease in his operational costs of over fifteen percent, thanks to the saved fuel.” Asami paused to give the few reporters a chance to jot that down. It was a statistic she wanted in the papers. “And this is only the beginning. Please, join me in raising a glass to Future Industries, North Seas Shipping, and a prosperous partnership.”

Graciously, she turned to Pukiq and inclined her glass in his direction. He followed suit, which was met with the sound of clinking of glasses in the crowd, as well as a smattering of applause. After she drank, Asami turned back towards the audience. “It is also my pleasure to welcome everyone here to what we plan to make our first annual company gala. With all the hard work our employees put in during the year, it is only fitting to honor that. So let’s celebrate!” This time, everybody clapped.

Asami stepped back from the microphone stand as a signal that the speeches were over. The murmur of the crowd began almost instantaneously. She could see reporters jockeying for position towards the bottom of the steps, notebooks raised. Pukiq sidled next to her. “Well played,” he said in a lowered voice. “I knew you had it in you.” Before Asami could ask what was meant, he skipped down the half flight of steps where he was instantly mobbed by the press.

Asami made to follow suit, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She spun around to see Ginni. “You improvised,” the publicist said, with a raised eyebrow. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Did I have a choice?” Asami swallowed the little remaining champagne in her glass.

“I guess not,” Ginni conceded with a small grin. “But that’s the last time we ever let him speak.” Asami was about to answer when Ginni cut her off. “Go face the reporters! Remember, only give them ten minutes of your time at most. Keep the message simple and about the financial benefit of this partnership. If they bring up Varrick, don’t give them specifics.” Asami suddenly found herself wishing that she had not emptied her glass. The publicist continued. “I’ve got to get to the kitchens. The crab puffs are going too quickly.” With that, Ginni hurried away.

The questions the press had for Asami weren’t nearly as troubling as she had anticipated. Only one reporter brought up Varrick, but it was in the context of “how is this partnership different,” a question Ginni had well-prepared her for. She was grateful for that—and for the gala in general. It was all at Ginni’s suggestion. When Asami had first told her about the company’s financials and the resulting partnership, she had feared Ginni would take Shoji’s side. Though the deal with Pukiq nearly offset the anticipated drop in profit, her CFO had still remained adamant that employee benefits should be cut on some level. “It may prevent us from having a lower quarter at all,” he had insisted.

Ginni, however, was quick to disagree. “Employee discontent hits the papers faster than a slightly lower stock price,” she said. “And it’s not a good image to send out. Besides, look at the projections. In another quarter this dip will be barely noticeable.”

“But it will still be noticeable this quarter,” Shoji had protested. “We can’t afford to scare off investors. And this could be the kind of story a competitor would leak to the papers.”

It was then that Ginni suggested holding a company gala. “The problem is that this Pukiq partnership won’t instantaneously fix our bottom-line, even though it will have major pay-offs in the long-run,” she pointed out. “This is a great business move and something we should champion. We’ll want a press conference—no—a gala! No one can ever accuse a company of being in trouble if there’s a fancy gala announcing an exciting new partnership!”

Shoji had paled at the suggestion, but it was clear that as soon as the idea came into Ginni’s mind, it was not going to be dropped. In the end, Asami’s pay-cut to her own salary funded the entirety of the gala, silencing the CFO’s concerns.

“Miss Sato,” a portly red-faced reporter was now saying. “Do you find it difficult to work with Pukiq?”

Asami forced a small chuckle. “We joke about these things from time to time. But I think it’s clear that Future Industries and North Sea Shipping have a lot to offer one another. And we look forward to exploring that into the future.” She turned away from the man, indicating there would be no follow-up. “I want to thank you all for your questions, and for coming. If you’ll excuse me, however, there are many guests I must see to tonight.”  Asami extracted herself from the group, ignoring the few questions she heard trailing after her.

She searched the crowded foyer for President Raiko, hoping to smooth over any residual contempt from Pukiq’s comment. The gala was being held in the front few rooms of her mansion, a venue that Ginni felt suited the image they were trying to project. Asami had been resistant at first, but Daisuke assured her that it would be easy enough to block off the better part of manor. Between that and Mako’s family promising that they wouldn’t speak to the press or tell any guests personal information, most of her fears had been assuaged. Chow even went a step further, vowing that he would keep Grandma Yin away from the party altogether and have someone watch over her to ensure it. Asami had suggested Tu.

She spotted Raiko and his wife near one of the pillars, surprisingly alone. On her way towards them, a waiter intercepted her. “May I refresh your glass, Miss Sato?” he asked, holding up a bottle.

“Yes, thank you,” she answered impatiently, paying no mind to the sparkling wine he poured into it. As soon as he finished, she hurried away, determined to get to the president before someone else did. She was no more than twenty feet from him when a cold, quiet voice behind her said, “Miss Sato.”

Asami didn’t have to turn to know who was speaking. “Lekh,” she said, offering her most polite smile.

He did not return the favor. His grey eyes scanned her, before speaking again. “That was a smart speech. I wish I could say the same for your business partner.”

“It was some light-hearted fun,” she said, taking a sip to mask any expression.

“I think ‘tactless’ is a more appropriate description.”

Asami refused to give him the satisfaction. “‘Tact’ wasn’t high on our list of priorities for a shipping partner.”

Lekh’s face remained unflinching. “Your list of priorities seems to be a shifting one, Miss Sato.”

His arrogance nearly took her breath away. “Future Industries is always my focus,” she managed. “Something I’m sure you can understand.”

Lekh took a step closer. “What I don’t understand,” he said, lowering his already quiet voice, “is how someone who claims to value efficiency chose to make a backroom deal and force out a half-baked plan for the wilds, rather than allowing business owners to pursue legal recourse for the inaction.”

He was so close that Asami could smell the mint on his breath. She forced herself not to step away. “The plan was reviewed by countless eyes, including the City Treasurer and the United Republic’s Finance Minister.” She tried not to betray annoyance in her voice. Of course he would approach me about this when he knows I can’t make a scene. The real estate mogul had remained silent at the Business Council meeting where the plan was unveiled. As the other business leaders applauded and lined up to shake hands with the President, Lekh had remained seated, his eyes gleaming with malice. Once the meeting had ended, he was the first out of the room.

“If you truly find the approval of Raiko’s sycophants meaningful, then I underestimated you.”

“I had hoped the plan would please you,” Asami said, donning a small, false pout. “After all, I thought the goal of your lawsuit was to spur action in the wilds. Otherwise it would just be for the sake of dragging Raiko’s name through the dirt, which I know you’re above.”  

An odd smile flickered on his face. “I’m sure you have many guests to attend, Miss Sato. Don’t let me keep you from them.” With that, Lekh walked off.

Asami took another swallow of wine as she watched him. He’s going to run in the next election, she suddenly realized, and I’ve just made an enemy of him. The thought nearly made her laugh. Still, if the infrastructure project continued as it had been, Raiko was unlikely to lose. She looked back towards the pillars where the President and his wife had been standing. To her dismay, they were now engaged in a conversation with Tenzin. 

As she headed towards the trio, a server with a tray of custard tarts approached her. Asami declined politely. I should probably have something though. Nerves had prevented her from eating earlier in the day, so she could already feel the alcohol taking effect. Still, the last thing she needed was to talk to the President of the United Republic with a mouth full of custard.

“...but we believe she’s a promising new recruit,” Tenzin was saying, once Asami got within earshot. She cleared her throat politely to make her presence known. “Ah, there is the woman of the hour herself,” he said, raising a glass of what Asami assumed to be lychee juice.

“Miss Sato, this is a lovely gala,” Raiko said graciously. “Do you know Buttercup?”

Asami smiled and inclined her head in the woman’s direction. “Not officially. It is wonderful to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Buttercup answered congenially. “Your mansion is absolutely gorgeous.”

My father’s mansion. “Thank you. Tenzin, did I hear you mention a new recruit?”

Tenzin nodded. “Yes, a young girl named Akane. She just came to us from the Fire Nation two days ago. We were apprehensive because she is only thirteen, but she had written permission from her parents. And Kai was certainly younger when we took him in.”

“Well,” said Raiko with a chuckle, “I’m sure she’ll make a fabulous tour guide in no time.”

Tenzin gave the President a worried expression. “I would only trust airbenders who have had at least a few years of spiritual teachings to such a task.”

A laugh burst from Asami’s lips before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “But I do believe our President was only teasing.” Sometimes Tenzin’s lack of perception was too much for her to handle.

Buttercup nodded, smiling. “Yes, my husband is often quite witty. I scold him for it all the time.”

Asami took a drink before she could giggle at that remark too. Raiko, witty? I have yet to see that on display.

“My wife exaggerates,” he said, a small smile on his face.

“Yes, well, I think I should probably locate my wife,” Tenzin replied. “Asami,” He turned towards her.  “Congratulations. I look forward to hearing more about your business the next time you come to the island.”

“That won’t be long,” she answered. “And I look forward to meeting this new recruit.” As soon as Tenzin stepped away, Asami turned back towards President Raiko. “Mr. President, I do hope there are no hard feelings about Pukiq’s remark?”

Raiko’s smile faltered a bit as his eyes scanned the room. “Not at all. Though I must admit, I am surprised you pursued a partnership with someone so...” Words seemed to escape him.

“Unrefined?” Buttercup suggested.

Asami smiled, to let them know their remarks were not unappreciated. “I had my reservations, but at the end of the day he was the shipping vendor most suited to my company’s needs. Still, maybe letting him speak wasn’t the best decision.”

“Maybe,” Raiko said slowly. “But he certainly knows how to get the press’s attention. You’re now guaranteed to be on the front page tomorrow. And Pukiq’s no Varrick, that’s for sure.”

The words felt like a punch to her stomach. She finished her wine before saying, “I had a team of Daruka’s best associates look over our papers. I won’t make the same mistake.”

“Varrick fooled us all,” the President said simply. “You’ll recall I was almost kidnapped. I only meant that I don’t think Pukiq’s capable of the same deception. At least not to someone with your mind.”

Asami felt herself flush, though was unsure whether it was from the wine or the compliment. It was true that since Lekh’s lawsuit was dropped, Raiko had been noticeably more pleased around her. But she had never heard him talk so warmly before. There was almost fondness in his voice. “I—I think you’re right, Sir,” she managed.

“Look!” Buttercup said suddenly, grabbing her husband’s arm. “I think that server is carrying more of those crab puffs.” She looked in Asami’s direction. “We were worried you had run out.”

Raiko laughed. “If you’ll excuse us, Miss Sato, it seems we need to hunt these down before they disappear again.”

“Yes of course,” Asami said, smiling. “Please enjoy.”

As the couple walked away, another waiter carrying a bottle of champagne approached her. “Care for a refill?” he asked, gesturing towards Asami’s empty flute. She was about to refuse when a loud booming voice caught her attention. “Miss Sato!” Ojas’s hulking figure was making a cut through the crowd.

Asami quickly turned to the server. “Yes, please.”

No sooner had her glass been topped off than Ojas was upon her. “Don’t you look great tonight. Waiter! Don’t forget me!” he bellowed just as the server had begun to leave. Once his glass was full as well he continued. “Heck, I’d consider a partnership with you if it means another night of you in that dress.”

Asami couldn’t even force a smile. In truth, her red gown was a modest one, but the way his eyes were moving, she felt as though she was wearing nothing at all. “Well, Future Industries has no use for a materials manufacturing partner as of now.”

Ojas shrugged and threw back three-quarters of his champagne in one swallow. “That’s too bad for me. I’d like a fancy event sometime. Not all of us have Daddy’s mansion to party in.”

Asami’s fingers tightened around the stem of her flute. “I’m glad I found a use for this space. I’m hardly ever here,” she replied coolly, allowing herself a more reasonably-sized sip.

“Oh yes, you’re your own woman.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ve read the papers. Don’t see why. Hiroshi was one of the best things to happen to this city. We’d still have ostrich-horse carts if not for him.”

And yet he developed technology to launch an attack on the city, she thought. “I’m comfortable with the direction of Future Industries,” she said instead.

Ojas’s gestured around the room. “I can see that. I’m sure your father will be proud when he reads about this. They do get newspapers in prison, right?”

Asami couldn’t take another moment. “I’d assume so. If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on something.” With that, she turned and headed away, though she had no destination in mind.

Her legs were starting to feel shaky, but she drank more of the champagne anyway to clear her head. Proud? Could that be what he’s writing to say? That he’s proud? Only a week prior, Asami had been surprised with another letter from Hiroshi. She left that one unopened as well, tucked away in her desk drawer that now had a lock on it.

To her horror, Asami felt tears forming in her eyes. She changed directions and headed towards the kitchen, where she knew she could collect herself. She had not gotten halfway there when someone’s hand caught her left wrist. “Miss Sato!” Asami spun to see Daruka smiling at her, with an unfamiliar man standing next to him.

“Daruka!” she said. She grabbed her chest with her hand, pretending as if he had scared her. She hoped it would serve as a suitable enough reason for her flustered demeanor. “I’m sorry,” Asami continued politely, looking at the man she didn’t recognize. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Ah yes,” Daruka said. “Asami, this is Zigsa. He is one of my oldest clients. Zigsa, Asami Sato.”

“A pleasure,” he said, inclining his wine glass in her direction.

“Asami and I share Future Industries Tower,” Daruka explained.

Asami forced a smile. “Yes, he keeps our bottom floors quite busy.” Her eyes flicked toward the kitchen. I’ll glad-hand him for another minute, and then make an excuse.

The lawyer was still prattling on. “I was telling Zigsa how you actually work as a mechanic on your own prototypes. But he won’t believe me!”

Zigsa gave a ponderous laugh. “I just can’t believe someone at your age is able to be so accomplished!”

“Oh yes,” said a quiet voice just behind Asami’s shoulder. She jerked her head to see Lekh standing in her periphery. “When it suits Miss Sato to accomplish something, there’s little she can’t do.”

The grin faded from Zigsa’s face, but Daruka lifted his own glass. “Care to join us, Lekh?” he asked amiably. Asami had to finish her drink to keep herself from protesting.

Lekh did not even fake a smile. “I’m afraid I must speak with Samir,” he replied coolly, pointing behind Daruka. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“I’m sorry about that, Daruka,” Asami said once Lekh was out of earshot. “I’m afraid he and I aren’t seeing eye-to-eye on something.”

“What else is new?” the lawyer asked. “Lekh is prickly, we all know it. Your father was never a fan of his either.”

“I’m not sure my father is the best judge of people,” Asami said before she could stop herself. The two men stared. “I’m sorry; I need to check on something in the kitchen. It was a pleasure, Zigsa.”

She turned away as they offered their feeble goodbyes. The room seemed to spin before her. Asami spotted a server with a tray of empty glasses and added her own to it. I can stay in the kitchen for a few minutes. That’s all I’ll need. She sidestepped a group of factory workers, and only offered a small smile when Katsu yelled to her. She had nearly reached the door when a familiar voice called her name. She stopped in her tracks. “Mako?” she asked, whipping around.

Sure enough, the firebender was standing a few feet away. A woman whose face Asami couldn’t quite place stood next to him. “It’s good to see you,” he said, awkwardly holding out a hand.

Asami had no choice but to walk towards him and shake it. The act was so odd that she ended up pulling him into a quick embrace before breaking away. “I’m so glad you were able to make it!” she said. Mako gave a smile, but looked uncomfortable, his eyes flicking from her to the woman. Could this possibly be a date for him? If so, that would come as a relief to Asami. “I’m sorry,” she said, “have we met?”

“A few times, Miss Sato, though you probably don’t remember,” she offered in a pleasant tone. “I’m Ela. I’m a reporter.”

“You asked me the question about routing efficiency tonight,” Asami said, suddenly remembering.

“Yes, that’s right!” she replied happily.

“Did you two come together?” Asami blurted out, unsure if it was the champagne or the curiosity that was getting the better of her.

“What? No!” Mako said quickly, taken aback.

Ela simply laughed. “We just met tonight. He was actually just telling me about how you two are good friends with the Avatar. That must be exciting!”

“I...” The room was swimming before Asami as she searched for the right words. “I hope everything he’s said has been off the record?”

Mako scowled at that, but Ela took it in stride. “An inside scoop on this so-called ‘Team Avatar’ would certainly be quite the piece for me to write. But we were just chatting.”

Asami didn’t doubt that, but Ginni had cautioned her too many times about reporters for her to let that vague answer slide. “As long as we’re clear that this chat is off the record.”

“Asami!” Mako said, incredulously.

Ela put a hand on his arm. Asami found herself staring at the gesture. “Don’t worry, Mako,” the reporter said calmly. “She’s just doing what anyone in her position would do.” She turned back towards Asami. “Anything you say will remain between us. Though if you don’t mind, I am personally curious how you managed to travel with Avatar Korra while juggling your company at the same time.”

Asami didn’t quite have an answer. “I delegated,” she responded simply.

“But when the Avatar was kicked out of the city, it was at least a few weeks before she returned,” Ela insisted. “I remember begging my boss to send me to the Earth Kingdom to grab an interview about it, but we all thought you’d be back sooner. That’s a long time to have someone else run things.”

Asami looked to Mako for help, but he seemed to be interested in her answer as well. “I guess...I prioritize saving the world over my company,” she said slowly. “It just felt right.” She looked away, still feeling Ela’s eyes on her.

Fortunately, Mako intervened. “I did the same thing with my job,” he offered. “Locating the new airbenders was important. And then the Red Lotus took out the Earth Queen.”

“And that’s who took down Korra, right?” Ela asked.

“I need to check on the kitchen,” Asami said suddenly. Off the record or not, she had no desire to discuss Zaheer with a reporter and her ex-boyfriend. She turned quickly—too quickly—and lost her footing. Ela gasped.

A pair of strong hands broke her fall. It took Asami a minute to realize that they belonged to Sarika. As he helped her straighten up, she kept her left hand on his forearm. “Are you alright?” he asked, in a worried tone.

“Sarika,” she said thickly, looking up at his earnest, concerned face. It was almost too much. “You’re—you’re so nice.” She put her other hand on his chest. “You don’t have to be, you know.”

“I...are you okay?” Sarika repeated, a flush creeping up his neck.

No. “I’m sorry,” she said instead.

“Why?” His eyes quickly darted behind her.

Asami suddenly withdrew her hands from Sarika and turned her head back to where Mako was still standing. Pure confusion showed on his face. Next to him, Ela was leaning forward slightly, though she had dropped her eyes. A true reporter, Asami thought. A laugh suddenly escaped her lips. Mako jumped slightly, and when she looked back towards Sarika, his eyes were wide.

“There you are,” a voice suddenly called out. A second later Ginni was on her, pulling her away from the group by the wrist. “So sorry, Miss Sato,” she said loudly, “there’s been an emergency with the bean curds.”

They were moving so quickly that Asami barely had time to glimpse any faces before Ginni yanked her through the door that led to the mansion’s interior. Once in the quiet hallway, the publicist let go of her. Asami made towards the kitchen door to her right, but Ginni shook her head. “Too many eyes,” she said. “In here.” Asami followed her past a few more doors until Ginni pushed open one that led to a stairwell. She ushered Asami inside and pulled the door closed behind them. Asami was suddenly aware of how much her head hurt. She leaned against the railing, grabbing a baluster for support. “Should I take this to mean the bean curds are alright?” she asked, dryly.

Ginni did not so much as even smile. “What were you thinking?” she asked.

The question stung. Asami looked away. “What do you mean?”

“Oh sit down. You’re drunk, Asami. You’re barely able to prop yourself up.”

“I just need a minute,” she protested, but she lowered herself onto a stair all the same.

“I need to get you tea,” Ginni said, starting for the door.

“How bad is this going to be? How many people saw?” Asami asked in a small voice. She felt half a child again.

Ginni stopped and turned to face her, folding her arms. “Saw what?  You hanging onto Sarika? Hardly anyone. I was watching you the second I saw you and Hot Cop talking.”

“Mako was with a reporter.”

“Ela.” Ginni nodded. “I know her. She won’t be a problem. And the others in close proximity were mostly your own workers. This won’t be a story.”

Asami nodded, trying to feel comforted. She only felt ashamed. “I didn’t mean to—“

“I asked you to give me a heads up,” the publicist interrupted. “I can figure out a way to spin it, but I can’t be blindsided like this.”

“Ginni, there’s nothing for me to tell you.”

“I’m just supposed to pretend there isn’t anything between you and Sarika?”

Asami looked away from Ginni, at the blank wall in front of her. “There isn’t. It would be easier if there was, but I—” She was surprised to feel tears welling up in her eyes again. “I just...can’t,” she choked out.

“And Mako?”

“I don’t even deserve him as a friend,” she said, full of self-contempt.

She had assumed Ginni would be frustrated with the non-answer, but the publicist only sighed. “We really need to get you some tea,” she said, lowering herself onto the step next to Asami. “What is going on with you?” Her tone was uncharacteristically gentle.

“It’s...this night,” Asami said. “We’re celebrating my company’s success, and yet here I am.” She gestured around the stairwell.

“But what is it that’s actually upsetting you?”

Everything. “Do you ever feel like life is just happening to you? The days pass but you’re only a spectator?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Ginni said, sounding worried. “Aren’t you happy with your life?”

The question made Asami laugh. It was that or cry. “My father’s been writing me,” she offered instead, not wishing to answer.

“Is that a good thing?”

Asami turned and scanned Ginni’s face. It was strange to see her without a smirk, though somehow the somber expression served to accentuate her features. She looked prettier than Asami had remembered. “I haven’t read them.”

“That makes sense,” the publicist managed, clearly struggling with how to respond. Without sarcastic rejoinders to fall back on, Ginni seemed almost as awkward as Sarika.

“He’s going to read about this in the papers,” Asami said, waving a hand. “Ojas said so.”

“It has to be tough,” Ginni said quietly, lowering her gaze. “Being in this mansion. Heck, running this company.” She turned back towards Asami. “Look, I know how I can be. I hope I’ve never made it too hard on you? Rebuilding your name, I mean.”

It was only then Asami realized how closely they were sitting. “You...you tell me what I need to hear,” she replied, her head suddenly swimming.

Ginni leaned towards her, and for a second Asami thought she meant to kiss her. But instead the publicist reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to get you that tea.” With that, Ginni rose and hurriedly left the stairwell.

Asami remained sitting, her feelings of guilt intensifying. That’s not what I want either. There was a time in her life when such a distraction would have been welcome. But now...

She rose, feeling the full impact of her inebriation. It’s been a year and a half. I’m in love with a fading memory. Asami walked out of the stairwell, heading to the kitchen herself. She needed to sober up, and the party was only half-over.

Chapter Text

The door of the limousine shut, mercifully quieting the screams of the crowd. Asami breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced to the seat across from her to see Sheil flashing a smile. “Not a fan of the fans?” he teased lightly, as the driver pulled away from the curb.

“Is it always like this for you?”

“It seems to be.” The mover star cocked his head to one side. “Isn’t it the same with you?”

“No,” Asami answered. “Even at Bolin’s mover premiers, I don’t remember the crowds being quite so...”

“Enthusiastic?”

“Rabid.”

Sheil laughed. It suited his face when he did; his blue eyes sparkled with amusement and dimples showed from underneath a close cropped beard. “I think that’s just the timing of my career,” he said, leaning an arm against the back of his seat. “There’s so much uncertainty now, between the Earth Queen’s death and the adjustment to the new spiritual age. People need someone to cheer for. Just look at Kuvira. One interview in the Dispatch and people are walking around with her face on their shirts.”

Only two weeks prior, an in-depth article on Kuvira’s campaign was published, which included an interview with the young metalbender. For the first time, her progress was made public: after not even a year and a half since being given command, Kuvira had managed to stabilize and unite forty percent of the Earth Kingdom, and Ba Sing Se remained in excellent order.

Asami frowned slightly. “They are,” she said, studying Sheil’s face. “But for me that piece raised more questions than it answered. Other than the capital, there was no mention of governance for the stabilized regions. It seems unclear what being united actually means.” For some reason, Asami hadn’t been able to shake the bad taste the meeting with Baatar had left in her mouth. Between that and some of the more disquieting rumors from Earth Kingdom refugees, she couldn’t help but feel there was information being purposely left out.

"I had the same thought,” Sheil answered solemnly. “I met with an Earth Kingdom governor a couple of months ago when I was doing my charity work. He seemed worried about Kuvira’s growing military and was insistent that his state wouldn’t join her. But less than a mile from his house I saw children with bellies swollen from hunger fighting one other for a dead possum rat.”

“That sounds horrible,” Asami said, feeling slightly sick. “What charity did you provide?”

Sheil sighed. “We planted a few fruit-bearing trees and provided seeds for grain. But that won’t help them with the bandits come to claim their food. They’ll need Kuvira’s protection, even if it means citizens have to temporarily work for her campaign.”

“The lack of choice is concerning though.”

"But it’s better than the choice between starving or becoming a bandit.”

Asami nodded. “You’re right. I just get worried, especially with Bolin in the thick of it.” Even though her friend wrote to her often, Asami couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. Bolin wasn’t allowed to disclose most details, though in his most recent letter he had mentioned overseeing the construction of a series of fences. But are they to keep people in or out?

“You’re close to Bolin then?” Sheil’s voice was casual, sounding more interested than anything else.

“He’s one of my best friends.” Does he think he needs to feign jealousy? Asami wondered. She was still unsure if Sheil was there for PR purposes only. The date was about as contrived a situation as could be. Asami had reached out to Varrick to get Sheil’s agent’s contact information. She then asked Ginni to make the arrangements, under the guise that the publicist would naturally want to set the terms to control the story. In reality, Asami had hoped the date would send a message to Ginni. Whatever unspoken moment that had occurred between the two women in the stairwell of her father’s mansion needed to remain unspoken. For the first few days afterwards, Asami could feel the tension in their meetings. Eventually they settled back into their old pattern, yet that didn’t prevent her from overanalyzing every movement and word. After about a month of that, Asami decided she couldn’t take anymore and wrote to Varrick. That had been the hardest part.

The rest clicked into place fairly easily. Sheil’s agent suggested the mover premiere, and Asami accepted under the condition that she would be allowed to take care of dinner. She had no expectations of, or particular desire for, a second date. Insisting on more of an equal arrangement was the only thing she could think of to combat her feelings of guilt.

This is probably just as calculated for him , Asami thought, considering the actor for a moment. As much as she had been dreading the evening, she had to admit to being impressed by their conversation so far.

The limousine slowed to a halt. “Ah, here we are,” Sheil said happily. Asami let him help her out of the cab. “Now, where is ‘here’ exactly?” he asked as they headed towards the restaurant.

“Jang Hui Cuisine,” she answered. “It just opened last month.”

“Excellent, I love food from the Fire Nation,” he said, opening the door.

They were greeted by the sound of jazz music coming from a five-piece band in the corner. Before Asami had a chance to look around the room, the hostess was on them. “Welcome, it is our most humble pleasure to serve you tonight,” she said, bowing deeply. “We have a private room waiting, if you’d follow me.”

They were taken to a corner of the restaurant that was closed off by screens. Behind them sat a single table with menus already laid out. Sheil and Asami had barely taken their seats when a waiter rushed in. He bowed deeply. “I am Juro. I will be your personal server tonight. If you require anything at all, please ring this bell,” he gestured towards the center of the table, where a small silver bell sat. Asami could feel the corners of her mouth twitching. The waiter continued, “I’ll leave you time to browse the menus, but may I take drink orders?”

“A bottle of the house sake would be lovely,” Asami said, glancing at Sheil. He nodded. Both Juro and the hostess rushed out of the room, closing the screens behind them. The music became muffled.

Asami picked up the bell and turned it over in her hand. Sheil grinned. “Well that’s something new,” he said.

“I didn’t request a private room; I wonder why they gave us one?”

“That was probably my agent’s doing,” he replied, opening his menu. “It’s a bit, uh...dangerous for me to be in public sometimes.”

“Is that right?” Asami asked, returning the smile.

Sheil picked his eyes up from the menu. “Well, if you must know, a fan tried to kidnap me a few months ago. Apparently she had a Satomobile ready to go with handcuffs in the back. My security guard was there, fortunately, but since then my agent has been careful not to let me go unattended.”

“Are you sure that was a fan?”

“Yes. She was so enamored of me that she figured if she could get me alone for a little bit...” Sheil let his voice trail off as Asami let out a small laugh. “I know, I know, I lead a high-risk life,” he joked. “But tonight might be even more dangerous for you. Watch, one of my fans will probably try to attack you for even being on this date.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said playfully. “Though perhaps I should have brought my electrified glove.”

“I’d like to see that.”

The screen suddenly slid open, as Juro rushed back in. He set down a flask in the center of the table, and then placed two cups. “Would you like me to pour?”

“I think we can handle it,” Sheil said pleasantly.

“And have you decided on an order?”

Asami shook her head. “Not quite yet. We’ll be sure to ring the bell.” She saw Sheil begin to laugh. Fortunately, Juro bowed and exited without noticing. “If he sees us mocking the bell, he’s going to be so sad,” she said with amusement.

“I know, we’re terrible,” he answered, reaching for the tokkuri. After he poured, he set it back down and instead raised his cup. “If you don’t mind, here’s to tonight.”

Asami followed suit. “To a successful premiere.” They both drank. The warmth of the wine immediately spread throughout her chest.

“Speaking of which, I never asked you what you thought of A Sandbender Came to Dinner .”

She thought back on the mover. In truth, she had spent most of the time distracted, wondering if she had made a mistake going on the date. She had known all along that it would make the papers, but somehow being confronted with the flashes of the cameras made it too real. Everyone I know will be reading about this , Asami had thought, as the opening credits of the mover began. She tried to focus on the few moments she took in, when she had managed to pull herself out of her mind. “Well,” she began slowly, “it’s certainly seemed to be...deeper than the Nuktuk films.”

Sheil let out a laugh. “I should hope so. Varrick’s movers were to a specific purpose: he wanted to make allies for the Southern Water Tribe. But people don’t want to be reminded of a war right now. So I try to star in movers that contain conflicts people can relate to, but not ones that scare people into feeling one way or another.”

Asami raised her eyebrows, impressed. “But they’ll still feel something towards it because of that connection they make,” she said. “It’s smart. And in this case addressing how sandbenders are treated is still relevant. Especially now that the Si Wong Desert is one of the only areas untouched by bandits. Suddenly the sandbenders are needed by those who may have looked down on them before.”

“Exactly,” Sheil said, his blue eyes shining. They’re not as bright as Korra’s though . “I felt a little strange playing a sandbender,” he continued. “I would have preferred for one of them to star in it. But everyone was insistent that I had to be the face on the posters, so I did my best to research the role. I even stayed in a commune for a week.”

“That’s quite thorough on your part,” Asami said.

“It’s my job,” he said with a shrug.

Sheil proved no less disappointing during dinner. After briefly joking about Raiko’s distaste for raw fish when Asami divulged that information, he had wasted no time in asking about Future Industries. “I always wanted to meet you,” he had said. “The amount and variety of what you do is remarkable.” For every aspect of her business that Asami brought up, Sheil had two or three questions, and even seemed genuinely intrigued when she talked about flight dynamics concerning the wingsuits. Once or twice, he reached across the table to touch her arm when he seemed to be particularly engaged in what was being said. To her shock, Asami once did the same instinctively, though her bangles accidentally hit the bell, sending Juro racing back in.

By the time their last sushi roll was consumed, the conversation had turned to the infrastructure project. “Sarika and I expect our focus can turn solely to the trains in a few months,” she said. “But first we have to finish up with a few residential roads and oversee the start of the spirit wild tours.”

“I was at that press conference,” Sheil replied, finishing out the dregs of his sake. “I can’t wait to take a tour myself. I see the spirits all the time, but I never know what to do around them. I wonder if it’s easier for benders?”

Asami shrugged. “I think there’s benders who can be out of touch with the spirits just as there can be nonbenders who truly feel connected to them.” Look at Zaheer . Just the thought of him made her shift uncomfortably in her seat. “I certainly didn’t have much of an understanding about these matters at first, but I think anyone can learn. Hopefully the tours will help.” She thought back to the spirits she and Korra had shooed off of the map some time ago. At least I figured out that lesson before designing the infrastructure .

“I haven’t even been near the wilds in months.”

“You should go. We’ve redone part of the park to make the area more inviting.”

“Right,” Sheil said. “And isn’t the name getting changed? To ‘Avatar Korra Park’?”

Asami fingered her empty cup. She tried to keep her voice even. “Yes, we thought it would be fitting, demonstrating Republic City’s embrace of the new spiritual age she ushered in.” Asami had suggested the name change at a meeting with Raiko a week ago, after yet another trip to Air Temple Island offered no updates on Korra’s health.

“I like it. We should go there now.”

Sheil’s voice seemed far away. She snapped her eyes back up. “Go where?”

“To Avatar Korra Park. It’s a beautiful night for a walk.”

“I—” Asami’s head suddenly felt full. “Yes, some fresh air would be nice,” she made herself say, fighting the mad urge to run away from the table. There’s nothing wrong with him. You can go for a walk. You can put her from your mind for one night . Sheil’s handsome, smiling face did little to ease the feelings of guilt that were suddenly bubbling up inside of her.

Asami barely remembered paying or getting back in the limousine, but in less than twenty minutes, she found herself being led by her hand onto the park's grass. Sheil gazed around, the moonlight accentuating his chiseled features. A few yards back, his bodyguard followed like a silent shadow. “What’s that?” Sheil asked, pointing towards a half completed stairwell.

Asami removed her hand from his grasp. “That’s going to be an arch. There will be a nice vantage point just over that clearing in the trees to view downtown.”

“And why is the grass cleared in a strip below it?”

“It’s going to be where we build a statue of Korra,” she answered in a soft voice. She could feel Sheil’s gaze on her, but couldn’t bring herself to meet it. "Construction on it should start next week."

“I think that’s great.” He paused for a moment. “You know...what I had said earlier, about people needing someone to cheer for? A hero?”

“Yes?” Asami glanced back at him.

“That could be you. If you just gave the papers a little more.”

The thought made her uncomfortable. “I doubt that,” she said, turning away from him.

He caught her wrist and pulled her back around. “I’m being serious. Everything you’re doing for the city...if people understood it, then you’d be the one with the rabid fans.”

Asami dropped her eyes. “I don’t want rabid fans. I just want to finish the park.” I just want to build the statue .

Sheil cupped his hand under her chin and gently raised it. She met his gaze and after a short moment, he kissed her. It was soft at first, but soon she found herself kissing back and drawing his body closer. She reached up to touch his face and felt his beard, coarse against her palm. Asami could feel his arms moving to close around her. She suddenly pulled away.

The moonlight was dancing in his blue eyes. The wrong shade of blue . “I’m sorry,” she said, breathlessly, lightly placing a hand on his chest.

Sheil tried to lean back in, but she tipped her head down. “Why?” he asked.

Her mind was swimming. “I—can’t.”

“What’s wrong? Did I do someth—“

“No,” Asami answered quickly. “You’re—“ words failed her. She cupped his cheek, meeting his eyes again. “I just...I have to go.” With that, she broke away from him.

“Asami!” Sheil ran to catch up. “What’s wrong? I have to drive you home, at least.”

“Don’t,” she said urgently. “Please, the tower isn’t far.”

“Let my security guard go with you!” he offered, still jogging to keep up.

“I’ll be fine.”

It took another five minutes to shake him. By that time, they had left the boundaries of the park. Asami moved as quickly as her dress and heels allowed her. The streets were mercifully empty, other than a few passing Satomobiles. At one point, a spirit popped up in her periphery, but she was not about to stop to find out why.

Before long she reached Future Industries Tower. She made her way through the dark lobby to her elevator and turned the key for the penthouse. She entered her apartment, took one step to the left, and slid down her wall to the floor, collapsing into sobs. She managed to get a hold of herself long enough to say, “What is wrong with me?” to the empty room.

His eyes were the wrong color blue . The thought had no sooner crossed Asami’s mind than she found herself annoyed. “As if you truly remember.” She put a hand to her forehead. “This is ridiculous. It’s been nearly two years. You have to stop.”

Asami stood and walked over to an end table. From its drawer, she extracted a piece of paper and pen. She then dragged the end table over to her couch, sat down, and began to write.

Dear Korra,

I hope everything is okay on your end. Things are about the same here. All the focus is on the spirit wilds right now. There might not be a way to clear out all the squatters, but Ginni says that could even strengthen the image we’re trying to cultivate. “Look at the spirits and humans living harmoniously.” I went on a date tonight with Sheil, the mover star. The crowds he produces would make you think Bolin and Ginger were low-office politicians at best. I think you’d like him; he and I talked about current affairs for the better part of the night.

Asami’s eyes moved back over the paper. Send this , she thought. Send this so you can move on. You have to move on . She sat like a statue for a minute, deep in thought. It wasn’t Sheil she wanted, she knew. And though he might prove an entertaining distraction for an hour or two, he would not be enough for her to truly get over Korra. Ginni might be, in time, but dating her publicist was an option Asami was not willing to entertain. She closed her eyes, trying to picture the Avatar. In truth, the memories were hazy now, with Korra’s face undefined and shifting. But it was the emotions that Asami could clearly recall; trying to repress her anger at Zaheer, hiding her sadness behind words of encouragement...always listening, and always restraining. The letter in front of Asami suddenly disgusted her. She crumpled it and tossed it aside. If I don’t write something, she’ll read about this anyway , she thought, reaching for a fresh sheet.

Dear Korra, 

I hope everything is okay on your end? Not much has changed since I last wrote. The spirit wilds are shaping up. We’ve found a number of people still living there, but Ginni thinks that’s a good thing. She says it will demonstrate how people and spirits are living harmoniously. Her instincts are usually good. She actually is the reason for what I’m sure is going to be a headline in a couple of days: she had me go on a date with Sheil, the mover star. Apparently my public image is too opaque. I have a feeling Sheil was made to go by his agent as well. The mover was pleasant enough, though despite what the newspapers will say, the two of us could make Bolin and Ginger seem like star-crossed lovers. Movers have improved though. I know you weren’t around to see much of Nuktuk, but the stories are a lot better, even if Naga doesn’t star in them. We should go to one once you’re back.

Asami threw her pen down. “This is pathetic.” She pressed two fingers into her temple. I can’t keep doing this . She pulled out a third sheet of paper and began to write the words she knew she would never send.

Dear Korra,

Is everything okay on your end? Tenzin hadn’t heard from his mother in a little while, so I figured I’d ask. Things are staying about the same back here. I’ve been focused on the spirit wilds this past week. It looks like there’s been people living harmoniously with the spirits in there all along. Tonight I went on a date with Sheil, the mover star. Though it was fun in its own way, it only served to remind me of something I’ve been keeping inside for nearly two years: I love you. You don’t need to do anything with that. I just want you to know that I’m still here for you, and that’s not changing.

As she completed the last sentence, tears were running down her face. Whatever catharsis Asami had hoped writing the words would bring still eluded her. After a moment, she crumpled that letter too, and drew out a fourth and final sheet of paper.

Dear Korra,

I hope everything is okay? You don’t need to worry about things back here, at least; not much has changed. Most of the focus this past week has been on the spirit wilds. We actually found a few people who have made it their home. It looks like spirits and humans have been living harmoniously for some time, even if we’re only now calling attention to it. I think we’re going to let them stay. If nothing else, it will be amusing to see Ryu interacting with the likes of Gommu. I might just have to go on one of these tours myself. Now that I think about it, my publicist will probably demand that I do for my public image. I also have her to thank for my date the papers are probably reporting on. I went to Sheil’s mover premiere with him. It was a fine evening, but I wish I didn’t have to do these things in the first place. Hopefully it was enough to satisfy everyone’s curiosity for some time, so that I can actually focus on my work. Speaking of which, I think I’ve had a bit of a breakthrough with the wingsuits. I just designed a snapping mechanism that will keep the wings unobtrusive, but should be easy enough to airbend open. If I can figure out the wing shape, we might be in the final testing stage as early as next month.

Asami set her pen down and read over the letter three times. It wouldn’t change anything, she knew. She would mail the letter and things would continue as they had. But that was alright. She had managed this long, what did a bit more time matter?

Chapter Text

The bright blue light from the healer’s water filled the room, momentarily eclipsing the late-morning sun streaming in through the window. The healer’s brow was furrowed, focusing on the task. His patient took a different attitude.

“Stop, oooh, that tickles!” Bumi said as the water passed over his neck. The airbender was sitting up on his bed stamping his feet against the floor.

“Bumi, you have to hold still!” Tenzin chided, hovering over him. “Healer Yash needs to be able to concentrate.”

“Oh I’m sure he’s dealt with worse than me, haven’t you?”

The healer acted as if he hadn’t heard anything, silently moving his hands to Bumi’s left shoulder. Asami stood in the corner watching, her feelings of guilt intensifying. If I had just tested every snap, this would never have happened. The thought had been plauging her mind for the past hour.

The wingsuit tests had been promising earlier that morning; Jinora, Tenzin, Ikki, Meelo, Kai, and Daw all had managed to take off and circle around the air with ease. It took them each only a few minutes to get a feel for which arm positions worked best, and both Tenzin and Jinora had useful feedback to offer Asami about minor adjustments to the wing shape. Kai even rode Lefty high above the temple before jumping off the bison and performing an impressive series of movements on his way back to the earth.

After an hour of watching the airbenders, Asami found herself beaming for the first time since she could remember. Yet Bumi’s test cause that elation to disappear. The airbender had fearlessly jumped off the top of the temple, but no sooner was he in midair than it became obvious that he was having trouble with his wings. His right arm had shot up almost instantly, but the force of his movement had not been enough to open the left snap. After that, Bumi panicked, half-airbending half-flailing his way towards the ground. He ended up veering into the trees, where he tried to brace himself with his hands out of old habit. When he emerged, he was bleeding and his left arm was hanging at an odd angle.

Once Healer Yash arrived on the scene, he had taken care of Bumi’s arm and cuts easily enough. But now the middle-aged waterbender seemed chiefly concerned about the possibility of a head-injury. Bumi, for his part, had found the whole ordeal quite amusing. He brushed off Asami’s profuse apologies with a wave of his hand. “If I was still in the army, these bruises would be sources of pride. Some good drinking stories.” When Meelo asked for more details, Tenzin had commanded Jinora to take the airbenders and lead them through meditation, leaving only the brothers, Yash, and Asami in the dormitory.

“You know, in my day,” Bumi was now saying, “the army wouldn’t even waste their healers on such minor scrapes.”

“They would have left your arm broken?” Tenzin asked incredulously, his face turning red.

“That’s right,” his brother insisted, folding his arms. The gesture caused Yash’s water to splash to the bed on which they were both sitting. A sour look crossed his face as he drew more out of a nearby bucket, but Bumi continued oblivious. “There was value in the pain. Taught us to be mindful of our enemies.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!”

“I hope you don’t think of me as an enemy.” Asami said, her tone not as light as she intended.

“Are you kidding?” Bumi said with a laugh. “Let me back at that wingsuit. The snap just needed to be loosened, is all!”

“I don’t advise that,” Yash said, pulling his hands away and sending the water back into the bucket. “Everything checks out, but your arm may be a bit sore for a few days. I recommend that you don’t exert yourself.”

“Exert myself?!” Bumi chortled. “When my platoon was stranded in the desert, I—”

“Bumi! We don’t want to hear your ridiculous tales,” Tenzin snapped. “You can deal with a week of meditation and history. Now go join the others on the pavilion!”

“At least when I was a nonbender I got to set my own rules,” Bumi said in a wounded tone. He swung his legs off the bed and stood up with a surprising agility. Though there was no part of Asami that wished to be an airbender herself, she couldn’t help but notice how the new lifestyle seemed to be agreeing with Aang’s eldest son. Each time she’d visit the island, Bumi would look more fit, and even seem a bit more serious. His jokes would always be second nature to him, but there was something in his eyes, a resolve perhaps, that Asami had never noticed before.

Whatever it was, it was lost on Tenzin. The airbending master seemed as hard on his brother as ever, always berating him for the slightest jape. Family dynamics are hard to let go, Asami thought bitterly, watching Bumi leave the room. Once he was gone, she and Tenzin escorted Yash to the docks, where they both thanked him profusely.

As they turned to head back up the path, Asami apologized to Tenzin for what must have been the tenth time since Bumi’s fall. “I’m just so sorry about all of this,” she said, her head hanging low. “I’ll be sure to hire a new, specialty metalbender to oversee the production of all the buttons.”

“That’s quite alright,” Tenzin replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this was mostly Bumi’s fault anyway. He’s a fine airbender, but sometimes the fundamentals still escape him.”

“Even so, I think maybe I could change the design so it’s more of a magnetic locking mechanism.”

Tenzin put his hand to his chin. “That sounds like it would work. I trust you to know best.”

Asami couldn’t think of anything to say to that, her feelings of guilt intensifying. She was spared responding by the sudden appearance of a bison in the sky.

“That looks like Juicy,” Tenzin remarked.

The bison touched down in front of the temple just as Tenzin and Asami climbed up the last step on the path. Opal Beifong hopped gracefully off the wheezing creature, an urgent expression on her face. She rushed towards them.

“Opal, it is lovely to see you again. How was your time in Zaofu?” Tenzin asked. Asami offered a smile to the young airbender that she did not return.

“Zaofu was fine, it’s the rest of the Earth Kingdom that’s the problem,” she replied, sounding slightly panicked.

“Yes, I know the bandits are still causing trouble,” the airbending master said. “I’ll be dispatching—”

“It’s not the bandits!” Opal cut in. “It’s Kuvira.”

“Did you see her?” Asami asked, trying to keep her face expressionless. Despite her own concerns about the campaign, she knew the issues Opal took with the metalbender were of a more personal nature.

“No,” she replied, “but on my way back I stopped off in a town within one of the so-called ‘stabilized’ states.” Opal shifted her gaze to Tenzin. “The rumors that we heard about forced-labor are true.”

“Are you sure of that?” he asked slowly.

“Yes! I talked to the villagers myself. The young and healthy are dragged off to dig ore without any say in the matter.”

“Doesn’t Kuvira have earthbenders to do that?” Asami asked skeptically. The claim made her uneasy, but Kuvira being so brazen about everything seemed unlikely. Unless her strength is greater than what we expected. But then shouldn’t there be more stories?

Opal turned her ire on Asami. “She’s conscripted all the earthbenders as soldiers! They’re too busy marching around intimidating civilians to be doing drudge work.”

“Opal,” Tenzin put a hand on her shoulder. “Kuvira needs an army to be able to suppress the threats from bandits and local clans that have risen up. I’m sure the ore is simply a necessity for laying infrastructure that will serve to keep the Earth Kingdom safe.

“This is slave labor!” she said, incredulously. “And worse, the dissenters in the town were taken away separately, and no one knows were!”

Tenzin furrowed his brow. “Do we know that it’s slave labor? Did you talk to any of the individuals who were forced to work? Do we have any reason to believe these dissenters are being treated poorly?”

Opal’s eyes flashed with anger. “How can you be defending this? Kuvira is out for herself; she’s always been out for herself. We need to do something!”

“I know that this is difficult,” Tenzin began, “but we need Kuvira. Ba Sing Se went from complete chaos to order, and bandits are being driven further and further back. She is making the Earth Kingdom safer. And until we know specifics—”

“I’m telling you the specifics! I know what I saw, and if we don’t remove her from power now, it’s only going to get worse.”

“Have you asked Bolin about this?” Asami suggested. “Maybe he could help answer some of Tenzin’s questions.” Her friend only wrote to her in vague details, but perhaps he was more forthcoming to his girlfriend.

Opal’s face dropped. “I’ve tried asking about her. But we...we prefer not to write about work too much.” She looked away. It probably just leads to fights , Asami thought, and with the distance, who wants that?

“Opal,” Tenzin said, “I will bring these concerns to President Raiko. But for now the airbenders will need to remain focused on the unstabilized regions, where our help is the most needed. I can take Juicy to the stables. Everyone is meditating right now, and I suggest you join them.”

Opal looked as if she wanted to argue, but thought better of it. Instead she took a breath and gave a small “Yes, Master Tenzin.” As soon as she was out of earshot, Tenzin turned towards Asami, stroking his beard once more. “What she says is troubling, but I fear her opinion of Kuvira is coloring her understanding of the issues.”

“That may be true,” Asami conceded, “but hadn’t you heard similar reports before?”

He sighed. “There’s quite a difference between slave labor and conscription. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to verify anything. In fact, both Raiko and Kuvira have insisted that we should only send airbenders to the states she hasn’t unified.”

“Given what Opal just told us, don’t you think it might be a good idea to revisit that? Especially the part about dissenters.”

“I will talk to our president soon; I have a meeting with him next week,” Tenzin said. “But I don’t think Raiko will accept the word of any Beifong at face-value. Even I found her claims about Kuvira’s self-interest to be a stretch. Things are improving in the Earth Kingdom, and we have Kuvira to thank for that.”

Asami nodded. “It’s also impractical to remove her from power now when there’s still half the kingdom left. Though I know I’d feel better if we had more information.”

“I had let Opal take time to visit her family,” Tenzin explained. “But the next time I send her out in the field, perhaps I’ll assign Kai to go with her. He was an Earth Kingdom citizen and knows the land well. Another pair of eyes would make me feel more confident in these reports.”

“Maybe the wingsuits will even be done by then.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to call back all the airbenders for that,” he said with a smile.

Asami was about to offer yet another apology when Juicy sneezed, reminding Tenzin to take the poor, congested bison away. It was just as well; she was supposed to meet with Sarika at Central City Station and inspect the city’s trains, but she wanted to have time to pick up schematics from her office.

In the end, the drawings proved little use. The train cars were as Asami remembered: tall and slightly unwieldy, designed more for elegance than distance. With engine and brake upgrades, along with new wheels, they would be able to get the job done, though Asami knew the city would be better off  in the long run with an entirely new fleet.

She told Sarika as much once the conductor who had taken them to a stationed train left them alone inside the front car. The city planner frowned at her words. “With the compensation for the spirit wilds beginning, we don’t have the capital,” he said. “As it is, it’s looking like Raiko will have to borrow more from the Fire Nation. And I know he doesn’t want to be in debt for too long.”

For when his campaigning has to begin again . “Half the world is in debt to the Fire Nation right now,” Asami pointed out. Even though Water Tribe independence had made sense politically, both the North and the South needed help during the transition. The Southern Tribe had managed to climb out of that hole thanks to Harbor City’s booming trade, but the Earth Kingdom’s collapse had nearly crippled the North.

“And to think just a few years ago the world leaders were deciding if the Fire Nation’s reparations for the war had been too harsh,” Sarika said solemnly. “Now they’re even being released of their debt to the Air Nation within the decade.”

“Because the cost of supplying the airbenders increased hugely thanks to Harmonic Convergence. At least the Fire Nation is in a position to fund them for the time being.”

“Isn’t this how the last war began though? The idea of sharing prosperity?”

He’s been hearing this from Raiko , Asami realized. “Fire Lord Izumi seems reasonable enough; I don’t think there’s any cause to worry about it now. But whatever our president’s reasons are, if he doesn’t wish to invest in new trains, we’ll have to make do with these.”

Sarika flushed slightly. “Do you think they’ll still be able to cover the distances Kuvira had in mind?”

“Of course,” she said, offering him a smile so he’d know she wasn’t upset. “But they’ll be slower than her train, that’s for sure.” Kuvira’s luxury train had been completed ahead of schedule, though past Ba Sing Se, there were hardly any terminals for it. According to Bolin’s latest letter, metalbenders were laying down tracks in anticipation of the route.

“I just wish the project was moving faster,” Sarika said. “The sooner we can replace the wooden ties with concrete ones on the line to Ba Sing Se, the better. That will open up some interstate travel, at least.”

Asami hesitated before saying, “We’ll need to upgrade to our own station first.”

“I think if we’re careful about how we plan construction on our tracks, we’ll be able to have the Ba Sing Se line up and running during the renovations.” 

She looked away from him. “I suppose allowing for travel can only help with all the unknowns involving Kuvira.”

“That’s getting better with time too,” Sarika noted. “Did you read Ela’s column last week? Where she interviewed the couple from Zaofu who knew Kuvira and moved to Ba Sing Se at the start of her campaign? They only had glowing things to say.”

And yet Opal nearly confirmed the worst rumors. What had Ginni been saying about bribed reporters? Asami wondered if Mako had seen Ela at all since her gala. Perhaps he would have an idea about the credibility of the interview. “Sarika...” she paused and met his eyes. “It’s clear that Kuvira has been given a lot of space to run her campaign. You and I were worried about that after we met with Baatar. If she wanted to hide something that she was doing, she probably would be able to.”

Sarika’s eyes scanned her face. “Probably,” he said slowly. “But, is there something you’re worried about?”

She dropped her gaze again, this time picturing Opal’s angry expression. I shouldn’t have been so dismissive. I should have asked her more questions . Asami placed her hand on Sarika’s forearm. “Please don’t repeat this. Especially at work. Some of the airbenders have been reporting that there is forced labor in the stabilized territories, and that dissenters may be taken away together.”

“Is this certain?” he asked, his eyes widening.

“Not entirely,” she admitted, “but it’s enough to make me nervous.”

“Raiko needs to be told.”

Asami squeezed his arm slightly. “Please don’t. Tenzin is going to bring this to his attention soon. He told me so.”

Sarika nodded, but pulled his arm back. “Maybe all this is out of necessity to keep everyone safe?” he suggested.

“Then why are there dissenters at all?” She shook her head. “I’m concerned about us working so closely with her campaign. I guess the infrastructure will be needed no matter what, but I sold technology to them. I helped Varrick improve a mecha suit.” My father’s mecha suit . “What if it’s being used for...” Asami let her voice trail off, unwilling to speak the words.

Sarika made a move as if to reach towards her, but instead took his glasses off and cleaned them on his shirt. “All I know is that my friends in Ba Sing Se are safer than they were. And I suspect the same is true for the regions Kuvira is uniting now. I think overall this is fixing the Earth Kingdom and helping people.”

Just like my father said Amon was doing . “But the means matter,” she insisted. “If these reports are true...am I really any better?”

“Better than what?” Sarika gave her a searching look.

“Nothing, I’m—I’m sorry.” She turned to leave the train car.

“Asami," Sarika called after her. "If it’s true, it’s not like you’d could have known. We’re all going to be in trouble if Kuvira isn’t what she says. But you were just making a business deal, that’s all.”

She stopped moving and placed her hand on a seat. “I suppose it was nothing nefarious."  And yet history will see us as no different. A bitter smile formed on her lips as Asami left the train car. For all Ginni’s efforts, ‘Sato’ already has its meaning .

Chapter Text

Asami was speeding. The ride from Future Industries Tower to her bayside factory could hardly be considered far, but the anticipation of the meeting somehow served to punctuate every inch of road.

To her right, Ginni sat, gripping the door handle. “Is this how you normally drive?” she called over the wind. She held her hat in her lap with her other hand after nearly losing it when they had first turned onto the highway.

“Consider this a test,” Asami replied. “I’ve got a prototype of the new steering linkage system in here.” The project had taken her a few months, but she had finally found a way to integrate it with the hydraulics system, allowing for smoother steering.

“And you’re sure you know what you’re doing?” Ginni asked in amused skepticism.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

If the publicist was truly worried, she didn’t show it. Instead, she gave a half shrug and let go of the handle to fetch a notepad out of her bag. “It’s very important that no matter what, Dara feels listened to today.” 

Asami couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “That’s exactly why I arranged this meeting, Ginni.”

“I know, I know, but her happiness is more important than actually solving the issue.”

“I think they’re both important.”

“Yes but the only way this gets to the press is if she stays upset.”

“She should be upset,” Asami replied, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. Only an hour earlier, she had received word from one of her plant HR managers that there was a sexual harassment complaint. Pengfei assured her he would take care of it “again.” When Asami pressed him for details, she was horrified to discover that this was the employee’s second complaint in two weeks, and the sixth complaint overall in the past year.

After hearing that, she had Anju clear her calendar for the afternoon and was determined to set out straight away. Once Ginni heard that their two o’clock had been cancelled, she came to the office to ask why. When Asami explained, Ginni’s face had darkened. “You’re going to want to bring me,” she had cautioned. “This kind of thing is kindling for a PR disaster.”

“Asami,” Ginni was now saying, “I have no doubt we’ll have reason to empathize with her, but neutralizing this takes priority. Just, whatever happens, promise that you’ll try and calm her down.”

“If that’s what you think is best.” Asami pulled into the factory parking lot and turned off the engine. At least the steering felt good. As the women stepped out of the car, she added, “We’ll be meeting with the site HR manager, Pengfei, first. Six complaints in a year. What is he doing?”

“Let’s just hear everyone out.” Ginni’s tone was almost nervous.

They walked into the plant and took a flight of stairs to their right. There was a certain sting for Asami that it was the bayside factory where this was a problem. It was the only factory of hers that was completely staffed by nonbenders, as the work required there was comprised of fine mechanical labor, electrical wiring, and assembly. Her other plants needed metal and lightning benders, who focused mostly on the earlier stages of production.

Asami pushed open a door at the top of the stairs to a small meeting room. There was an oval table with numerous chairs surrounding it. Seated at the one furthest from the door was an old man with an impressive beard, his hidden chin tucked into his chest. For half a moment Asami wondered if he was asleep, but he suddenly lurched to life, mumbling. “Oh...yes...of course.” He laboriously pushed himself to his feet.

“...Pengfei?” Asami asked, watching the man grope at the table in an effort to stand upright.

“Yes, Miss—erhm—Sato,” he said slowly, as if each word was an effort to form.

She crossed the room to shake his hand before he had manage two steps. His fingers trembled slightly, and his skin felt like paper. Any anger Asami might have had in the parking lot drained away. “This is Ginni, my publicist. She’ll be sitting in on the meetings today.”

“A pleasure,” he said inclining his head in Ginni’s direction.

“Please sit,” she answered, taking a seat herself at the opposite end of the table. “I’m just here to observe.”

Asami gestured back to Pengfei’s seat to show she agreed, before choosing the chair next to his.  “Pengfei, I’m very concerned about the number of complaints from this factory. What was the nature of Dara’s this morning?”

“Oh yes...the complaint.” Pengfei reached out and slowly opened a folder in front of him. She watched as he shuffled through a good twenty pages. Shouldn't this be on the top of the stack? She heard Ginni tapping her pen against her notebook, but didn’t look over. At last, he found the sheet he had been looking for, and extracted it. However, his shaking hands soon dropped the page, and it fluttered to the floor by his chair’s base. He slowly began to bend over in his chair to retrieve it, until Asami could take no more.

“I’ve got it,” she said, springing up. She quickly fetched the paper, put it down on the table in front of him, and sat back in her own seat, forcing herself to give a pleasant smile to hide her impatience.

If Pengfei had been grateful for the gesture, he didn’t show it. Instead, he hunched over the desk, reading it as if for the first time. Isn’t this his own report? Finally, he spoke. “Yes, the complaint,” he repeated softly, reaching to stroke his beard as he spoke. “It seems that Dara felt there was a—erhm—hostile work environment. She was the only woman on one of the lines this morning, and the other—”

Asami interrupted. “The only woman on the line? How is that possible? Each room of this factory should have a good fifty workers.” 

Pengfei looked up from his paper and blinked, as if he didn’t quite understand the question. “Miss Sato, there are more men that work here, than women.”

“But fifty to one?”

“Well, normally there are at least five women in a room.”

“Oh good,” Ginni called from her side of the table. “Ten to one. I’m relieved.”

The old man looked uncomprehendingly at her before facing back towards Asami. “For whatever reason the division of workers was such that she was the only woman in the room. I suppose the other women of this factory where scheduled elsewhere.”

“But Ginni’s right,” Asami protested. “Even ‘more women’ doesn’t sound like there’s many. Who makes the hiring decisions here?”

“That would be—erhm—Banri. The Plant Manager.”

“So he was overseeing everything when the complaint occurred?”

“Well,” Pengfei said, “he oversees all of the lines. I don’t know where he was at the time of the incident. He sent Dara to me, but she didn’t mention the specifics.”

“Fine,” Asami said. He’ll never finish the story at this rate. “What did she tell you?”

“She felt that it was a hostile work environment today.” He paused to lick his lips, as Asami silently wondered why it was that she hadn’t just met with the worker first. “It seems the men on the line had...place a certain, well, wager this morning.”

“Oh good, this is promising,” Ginni said, rubbing her eyes under her glasses.

Pengfei didn’t seem to have heard. “Yes, many of the men, according to her, placed a bet as to who could—erhm...” He leaned closer to the paper and blinked a few times. “...‘date her,’ it says.” He looked up towards Asami, as if to see whether she understood the meaning.

“So she was being continually propositioned this morning,” Asami concluded. “What did you do when you found out?”

“I suggested that she take the rest of the day off...not taking away a sick day, of course. The line she is scheduled for tomorrow will have more women on it.”

Suddenly Asami found her anger again, though she managed to keep her voice even. “You told her to go home? Don’t you think that might have sent the wrong message?”

Pengfei’s face was pure bemusement. “I beg your pardon?”

She swallowed as she searched for the words. “Dara didn’t do anything wrong, but her coworkers did. Shouldn’t you have addressed them rather than sending her off?”

“Miss Sato...the men she named...it was over half of the line. I thought it might be more—erhm—prudent to allow work to continue.”

Asami looked down the table toward Ginni, who rolled her eyes in response. Turning back to Pengfei, she asked, “And Dara is here now?”

“Yes, she was upset when I suggested that she leave, which is when I called you.”

“Did you talk to Banri after receiving her complaint?”

“No, Miss Sato.” Pengfei looked back down to his papers. “Dara had told him though.”

“So did Banri discipline the line workers?”

“Not to my knowledge, but I’ve been in here for some time, going over the report.”

Like that helped. Asami knew the HR manager wouldn’t be of further use to her for the time being. “Pengfei, thank you for your time,” she managed. “Would you be able to send Dara in? We’d like to talk with her.”

“Of course...Miss Sato. It was a pleasure.”

She could only offer a small smile in answer, though it faded before Pengfei had managed to gather up his files. After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to extract himself from the room.

No sooner had he left, then Ginni said, “Well, that was an adventure.” Her eyes were glinting with amusement.

“I’m going to need to fire him,” Asami answered, shaking her head.

“No no, bad idea to fire someone that close to retirement. Press hears about that and suddenly you’re trying to get out of paying penchants.”

“He’s completely ineffective,” she said, gesturing towards the door through which Pengfei had exited.

Ginni threw up a hand. “His suggestion was terrible, but technically it’s the line manager who should be disciplining the workers. Pengfei took down the complaint and alerted you. That’s what HR does.”

“I’m sure I’ll have a thing or two to say to the line manager as well,” Asami replied. “Especially the hiring practices. But what’s the point of an HR manager who doesn’t actually help in situations like this?”

“Just have him give a presentation on sexual harassment or something,” Ginni said dispassionately. “If he fails to do so or the content is bad, then fire him. But right now there’s not cause. I’m sure he’s only acting based on the direction Banri’s provided here.”

Asami was about to point out that it still seemed like there was enough reason to fire Pengfei when the door swung open a second time. A young woman walked in, no more than twenty-six, Asami figured. She wore a Future Industries jump suit and a tool belt, with welding goggles perched atop a mess of short, brown hair. Her unkempt appearance somehow only served to highlight her expressive features.

As soon as she spotted Asami, her eyes went wide. “Miss Sato! I...it’s such an honor to meet you! I thought they’d be sending some mid-level suit, but—” She let her voice trail off and instead quickly crossed the room to shake Asami’s hand, nearly sending a chair flying in the process.

“You must be Dara.” The mechanic’s hands were calloused, though surprisingly gentle. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” Asami gestured towards Ginni, who remained seated. “This is my publicist Ginni. She’s just going to be taking some notes.”

Dara frowned slightly. “Your publicist? I’m not going to the press you know. I love working here.”

Is she worried we were going to fire her? “Oh, of course. But we just found out that your complaint was the first of a several this year, so Ginni wanted to help me appraise the situation.”

“Though that is what I like to hear,” Ginni offered with a grin that Dara returned.

Asami took her seat again, leaving Dara to sit in the chair Pengfei had recently vacated. “We were told what happened this morning, but this is your second complaint?”

Dara drummed her fingers on the table. Her mechanic’s outfit made her look fabulously out of place in the sterile meeting room. “I’ve been working here for six months,” she began. “But word got out a few weeks ago that I had just gone through a breakup. I guess someone overheard me talking at lunch. Anyway, it started out innocently enough; more of the guys made a point to talk to me in the day. It was bothersome, but harmless. Then there were a few that began to take the comments a little too far.” She glanced up, almost hesitantly, but when Asami gave her a nod, she continued. “A couple of weeks ago I was partnered off with one of them: Janak. We were soldering together. The work was fine, but he spent most of the time talking in graphic detail about what he’d like to do to me in the break room. I didn’t really feel threatened, I know he’s all talk, but...”

“That’s disgusting,” Asami interjected. “There’s no reason to put up with that.”

“Right? I thought so too. So I told Banri about it, because that’s what you do, isn’t it? Tell the supervisor?”

“I would assume so.”

Dara gave a small, derisive laugh as she said, “Well, for all the good it did me. Banri told me that if I was going to stop working to whine, I should go to HR. So I did. I wasn’t really upset about it though, and I think Pengfei saw that, because he said he would take care of it. Which means letting Banri take care of it on his own. All he did was dock Janak one vacation day. One of my friends overheard him bragging about that.”

“It sounds like Banri is the main problem then,” Asami concluded. “Not Pengfei.”

“Pengfei? He files papers and makes sure we get our paychecks on time. Believe me, after going through the onboarding process with him it’s pretty clear that he’s about as useful as a waterbender in the desert. It’s always been Banri that’s the problem.”

“Was he involved in the bet this morning?”

“No, he’s not that bad,” Dara said. “He’d never participate in anything like that. But he likes being friendly with the guys, so it’s easier for him to tell me to ‘suck it up’ than to actually do anything about it. This morning just sent me over the edge, because I was the only woman in there dealing with it, and when I told Banri what was going on he said that I shouldn’t assume everyone talking to me was involved in a bet. He said that it could have been them trying to be nice to me.”

“Of course, “ Ginni sighed. “Why did you think it was a wager?”

“Oh, my friend Gen had been asked to participate. He warned me about it. Not that my co-workers are exactly hard to read anyway.”

“So you had proof. And yet I’m guessing Banri wasn’t interested in that.” Asami rolled her eyes.

“And neither was Pengfei,” Dara said. “He just told me it’d be easier for me to go home today. I don’t see why it’s fair that nothing happens to them, but I’m told to go home for something that isn’t my fault.”

“It’s not fair,” Asami assured her. “It’s disturbing. And apparently you aren’t the only one who’s been pushed to the point of filing a complaint about this.”

She shrugged. "It's just the atmosphere here. People like to keep things light and friendly. Sometimes that goes too far, but we're used to it. I just wasn't in the mood for it today, especially since our line was behind schedule." She looked up, suddenly worried. "I'm not trying to get Banri in trouble with that. He... It's busy here, I guess. He doesn't understand our strengths as well as he could. Like with Janak, we should never have been soldering together in the first place, not because he's odious, but because he's really slow at it. He's much better at inspection. Some of us trade off tasks at the beginning of the day, but things can get backed up, especially since Banri doesn't like to crack down too much. Plus we're not allowed to switch line assignments. You know," Dara added, ironic amusement on her face, "in case we'd abuse that to be near our friends. Wouldn't want a distraction, right?"

Ginni raised an eyebrow in Asami's direction, though didn't say anything. She didn't have to; Asami knew exactly what she was thinking. That's cause, if we need a different excuse. She leaned towards Dara, placing a hand on the table. “This sounds frustrating, all of it. Even ignoring the bet today, this isn't an acceptable atmosphere for any worker. I'm so sorry this was happening without my knowing it."

Color crept into Dara's cheeks. "I don't see how you could," she mumbled.

"Thank you for taking this time today. I'll need to talk to Banri; are you okay asking him to step in here?” When Dara nodded, Asami continued. “I can assure you that this situation won’t be continuing. It’s unacceptable. And if I have to be here personally every day for the next month to see that it changes, that’s what will happen.”

She smiled. “I have faith in you. The mere fact that it’s you here...” She stopped and shook her head. “I’m not looking for anyone to be fired. I just want it so that my coworkers won’t get away with stuff like this in the future.”

“Well, you may get both.”

Dara exchanged polite goodbyes with the two women before hurrying out the room to fetch Banri. Once they were alone again, Ginni rose and walked towards Asami, slipping into the chair next to her. Asami barely had time to react before the publicist lightly touched her hand and said urgently, “Whatever you do, don’t fire him on the spot. More times than not that leads to a lawsuit.”

“We have cause. What Dara said about the backup on the lines alone...”

“That's true, and I understand, I really do. But trust me on this, okay? Fire the guy, sure. I'll even get some enjoyment out of that. But please don't expose us by—"

“I know, I know,” Asami cut her with a wave of her hand. “I want to hear what he has to say for himself anyway. I just hate that this was happening in one of my factories. How did I not know?”

“It doesn’t benefit these women to speak up. And I'm sure the HR protocol didn't require you to be alerted until now.” Ginni said, in an uncharacteristically serious tone. “But I just led reporters through one of your other plants a few weeks ago; it was a shining example of a healthy work environment. Don't let this one get you down.”

The door swung open yet again. The person who walked through had not been what Asami was expecting at all. In her mind, she had built Banri to look something like Ojas, with his hulking frame. Yet the man before her was tall and lanky. His head was covered in wavy hair that had grown slightly too long in the back, and his face was covered in messy stubble. Though Asami placed him in his forties, his appearance and the way he carried himself made her feel as if he was trying to pass for a university student. His delicate, friendly smile only served to agitate her more. “Miss Sato,” he said, in gentle tones.

Asami stood to shake his hand, not failing to notice that Dara’s grip had been firmer. “Banri,” she responded through a false smile. “This is my publicist Ginni.” To her surprise, Ginni stood and insisted on a handshake as well.

“What can I do for you?” Banri asked, lowering himself into a seat. The women did the same, with Ginni opting to stay in the chair next to Asami.

“I assume you know why we’re here?” Asami asked.

“Dara’s complaint this morning,” he said nodding.

“Well that and the five others this year.”

“Yeah, in this in environment, these things spring up from time to time.”

“Time to time?” she repeated. “Dara’s had to file a complaint twice in the past two weeks.”

Banri continued nodding. “Right, you know, we really value comradery among our coworkers; it keeps them happy and I think more productive. But sometimes things can go too far or be taken the wrong way, so we do our best to handle those situations.”

His dulcet tones somehow set Asami’s teeth on edge. “And do you consider telling Dara to stop whining about Janak's inappropriate comments your ‘best’?” She forced herself to stare into his grey eyes.

Banri pursed his lips slightly as he thought, before finally saying, “I don’t think I used the word ‘whining.’”

“Good!” Ginni called from Asami’s right, her voice dripping with irony. “That was the issue.”

“What Ginni’s trying to say is that we’re concerned about how dismissive you were.”

“Well,” he began, leaning back in his chair and crossing his left leg over, “it seemed to me like Dara wasn’t really all that upset. She knew Janak wasn’t being serious; she even said that. So I felt like if she was going to stop production just to make a statement, she might as well go to Pengfei and be done with it.”

“The statement she was making,” Asami said, trying to keep her anger in check, “was that she was being sexually harassed by a coworker.”

“Janak was over the line,” Banri answered. “I let him know it wasn’t okay and took away one of his vacation days to send a message.”

“It was grounds for termination.”

“Right, but I assessed the situation and it didn’t seem like Dara meant it. You know, it’s back to that productive atmosphere where we really don’t want people to feel like we’re policing their every move.”

“He assessed the situation, Asami,” Ginni said, gesturing towards Banri. She seemed to be struggling not to smile.

Asami turned back to the manager. “Well, it looks like your assessment was wrong. It’s only been two weeks and there’s another complaint.”

Banri rocked his head from side to side. “Today was...it was a special case. It must have been a scheduling error for Dara to be the only woman in the room. That hardly ever happens.”

“I don’t care if she’s the only woman in the plant. She should still be able to do her job without continually being propositioned by her coworkers because of a bet.” Asami leaned in slightly, hoping the move would seem somewhat intimidating. “Why did you send her away to Pengfei instead of correcting the behavior immediately?”

“There were so many details we didn’t know. She was naming a lot of people—they’re good men. Some of the ones she listed even have wives. I thought it was unfair to assume that everyone who had talked to her today was doing so out of malice.”

“It was unfair to Dara to single her out for doing nothing wrong.”

“I was trying to give her a way out so that she could feel more comfortable,” Banri said. He turned his palms up, as if searching for an answer. “I can’t really explain it. It just felt like the right way to handle situation without being too disruptive.”

“What concerns me,” Asami began, “is that this seems to be a pattern. You have had six complaints this year, and nothing has been done to actually discourage this hostile work environment.”

“It’s really been only five, because Dara’s one from two weeks ago seemed more like venting.”

“Okay, but it’s not about the number of reports to HR; it’s more the atmosphere in general, and the pattern of behavior in this factory.”

Banri nodded again. “Of course, but today was also a special case with the schedule—”

“Do you know what ‘pattern’ means?” Ginni interrupted, sounding half-amused, half-frustrated.

“I hear you,” he answered, “but surely you can agree that today is different. We normally have more than one woman on a line.”

Ginni frowned. “But the way the workers acted today was born out of what’s been allowed in the past,” she explained.

“Well tomorrow Dara is scheduled to work a line with nine other women.”

Ginni threw up her hands and looked at Asami. “Seriously?”

This isn’t going anywhere, Asami thought forlornly. “Okay,” she said, turning back to face Banri, “let’s talk about hiring practices. How many workers are in this factory?”

“We have five lines with around fifty workers a line,” he answered. Asami nodded, but before she could speak again, he leaned forward and said, “So that’s roughly two hundred and fifty workers.”

Roughly two hundred and fifty retorts came to mind, but she was spared the need to respond when Ginni gave a long, sardonic, “Ooooooh.”

Asami forced herself not to laugh. “And of those, how many are women?”

Banri pursed his lips again as he thought. “Thirty? Thirty-five maybe.” 

“And is there a reason that only twelve to fourteen percent of workers here are women when in all my other factories it’s usually split down the middle?” she asked, trying not to feel too self-satisfied for throwing the arithmetic back in his face.

“Bending is an equalizer,” he answered. “For nonbenders, it’s far more common for men to do this type of work. We don’t get as many women applying.”

Asami felt her right hand curl into a fist. “So you’re telling me that if I go into Pengfei’s files and look through all the applications, only one-eighth would be from women?”

Banri unfolded his legs, looking slightly taken aback. “I don’t know the exact percentage. But I know I interview more men. Besides, it’s even worse in other places. I heard Cabbage Corps has an all-male factory.”

“Lau Gan-Lan’s hiring practices aren’t my concern.” And I doubt that’s accurate anyway. “What is my concern is that you only hire one woman for every seven men.”

“I hire the people best suited to the job,” he insisted. “If a man’s a better fit, wouldn’t be unfair to not give it to him?”

“What criteria do you use to determine ‘fit’?” Asami asked.

“The same anyone would: experience, drive, personality,” Banri said, ticking them off on his fingers.

“Well since you’ve already said you value comradery, part of your decision must be based on how you see them getting along with the employees?”

Banri shifted in his seat. “To a degree, of course. The friendly atmosphere allows for everyone to feel relaxed at work, which I think is the reason why we’re able to produce such quality products, something Future Industries values highly.”

Asami’s anger flashed. “I am Future Industries; don’t tell me about my values.” She could feel Ginni’s eyes on her, but forced herself to focus only on Banri. “Your idea of a ‘friendly atmosphere’ is one that is only friendly to men. As manager, how do you plan on correcting this?”

“I...” he began, looking flustered. “Well, maybe we could put all the women on the same line. That way they’d be in the majority in that room, so it would be safer.”

She heard Ginni clap a hand over her mouth. It took effort not to do the same. “I’m sorry, your solution is to keep the women separate?” Asami asked.

“That way there wouldn’t be distractions at all in four out of the five lines.”

She looked over to Ginni, who shook her head incredulously, a smile forming behind her hand that still covered her mouth. Asami rose and pushed her chair away from the table. “You’re fired,” she said simply. “Pengfei will be in contact about your severance pay.”

“Wh—what?” Banri pushed himself out of his chair, half-stunned.

“Please gather your things today,” she said, gesturing towards the door.

"I’ve worked her for ten years!”

“And I thank you for that service,” Asami lied.

Banri made no move to leave. Instead, he turned so he was square with her. “Please, this isn’t my fault. I’m a huge advocate for women.” Ginni gave a pointed cough, but he ignored her, putting an arm on Asami’s shoulder. “I can’t help that more men apply to these jobs. It’s just the business.”

Asami’s instincts took over. She grabbed his wrist and pried his hand away from her shoulder, turning it sharply in the process. He gasped and leaned over from the sudden pain. “You’re fired,” she repeated. “Please leave this building now.”

Banri didn’t need telling twice. Grabbing his wrist with his other hand, he scurried to the door, giving one last, furtive look back before slipping out. Ginni let out a low whistle.

Asami turned towards her. “What are the odds that makes the papers?”

“What, you mean assaulting an employee?” The publicist looked amused. “Slim to none. He’s embarrassed. Besides, we can just say it was self-defense if we need to. I’m your witness, and a great liar." She flashed a grin to show that she was joking. "But at any rate, it looks like your sessions with Tej are paying off.”

“My father made sure I could do that by eight,” she replied, trying not to let the tainted memories surface.  “Well, seeing as that won’t be making the papers, let’s do something that will. We need to start recruiting women. I want an ad campaign targeting nonbending women interested in science and technology. We could even begin a training program.”

Ginni sat up in her chair at the suggestion. “Perfect,” she said, making notes. “That won’t be hard to draft. You should probably figure out the training program details though; that’s not my expertise.”

Asami nodded. “Of course. Off the top of my head I’m thinking that there are plenty of entry-level positions that only require basic welding skills. That’s not hard to teach. And from there we can establish some kind of in-factory mentorship program that—”

“I didn’t mean right now!” Ginni said, hold up a hand. “There’s no story, so we have time to plan this.”

“No, we need to fix it now. And it starts with getting me a copy of Dara's resume. Let's see how she feels about a promotion.”

Chapter Text

Asami walked to where Ginni was standing on the dock with arms folded, watching the acolytes help the press load equipment onto a boat. “Well, it only took two years of R&D but we finally got that wingsuit photo-op you’ve been dying for.”

Ginni turned, a broad smile appearing on her face. “It was perfect! I was talking to a photographer who swears she managed to capture Kai mid-somersault!”

“Well, it is pretty nice that an airbender can get around now without worrying about a staff.” Asami glanced behind her to where Ikki and Meelo were still circling the house as they had been ever since the press conference ended. Tenzin had given up yelling at them and retreated into the dining hall where the rest of the airbenders were feasting in celebration.

Asami had been invited to join them, but the turnout to the demonstration had been far better than she expected. Even though it had been a good half an hour since the last reporter’s question, she had been kept busy shaking hands and clarifying her company’s future role in the textile industry to other business leaders. Fortunately Katsu, her sales manager, had jumped in for her as a pro-bending sponsor was trying to discuss the fabric’s use in uniforms, allowing Asami to extract herself and speak with her publicist.

“Yeah yeah, no staff is great,” Ginni was now saying, “but what’s even better is going to be the front page. These pictures are going to be eye-grabbing for sure. And you can bet ‘Future Industries’ will be in that headline! There won’t be a soul in the city who doesn’t read it.”

Asami chuckled. “Your commitment to the bottom line is...something.”

“Oh spare me your idealism. I’m a publicist; this is what makes me happy. You’re an engineer. You get excited about...steering links whatsit?”

“The integration of the steering linkage with the hydraulics system,” Asami said in spite of herself.

Ginni smirked. “Let’s just leave it as this: we both did well today.” She gestured at the boat behind her. “I’m gonna hop on there in case they’ve got any follow-up questions. You’ll have to motorboat back solo, I’m afraid.” She grabbed Asami’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Seriously, you were great! And when you held that airbender toddler—I didn’t even tell you to do that!”

Asami felt oddly touched, but before she could respond, Ginni turned and hurried forward onto the ramp, nearly bowling over an acolyte struggling under a tripod. The abruptness of her departure filled Asami with a peculiar emptiness; she found herself wishing the publicist had been able to stay for the lunch. Even Sarika would have been welcome company, though the city planner had no reason to attend something unrelated to his job, especially in the middle of the workday. I suppose they are my friends. It was a sobering thought to have about her co-workers. Still, Mako was in the middle of a case and couldn’t take the morning off, Bolin was hundreds of miles away with Kuvira, and Korra...

Asami pushed the thought from her mind and turned back towards the hall, where Pema was now trying to drag Meelo by the wrist with one arm, while holding Rohan to her hip with her other. She made her way towards them. Both Meelo and Pema stopped for a moment and looked up. “I can take Rohan inside, if you want.”

“If you could escort Meelo, that’d actually be better.”

The eight-year-old placed his hands on his hips. “I don’t need an escort!”

“Well I do,” Asami said, flashing Pema a knowing look. “It’s been awhile since I’ve lived here, after all.”

Meelo stood up straighter at that. “Then never fear, beautiful woman! I shall show you the way!”

Pema followed. “Some things don’t change much,” she said, sighing. “Though you would think he’s noticed you’ve been coming around here just about every week.”

Asami smiled but said nothing, suddenly feeling guilty. As of late, she had gotten into the habit of keeping her trips to Air Temple Island as short as possible, going as far as to make up excuses about why she couldn’t stay for dinner or come early for tea. Her past few visits had been little more than a review of her drawings or a quick test-flight, though she still had found the time to ask about any news from the Earth Kingdom, as well as her habitual question about Korra.

Asami couldn’t quite explain why she did this. At first, her time on the island had been a source of comfort. Yet without her friends there, she had become increasingly aware that she was just one person—one outsider—joining a family at their table. And though they quarreled now and then, their obvious love and overall contentedness served as a painful reminder of what she lacked. Sitting with the other airbenders was no better either; they were bonded together with their abilities and purpose, growing closer with each passing day. It was enough to make Asami feel like a spectator, intruding on others’ happiness. She was able to engage in small-talk and offer every pleasantry, but there was an almost out-of-body detachment for her, as if she was sitting alone at the table.

This feeling had only gotten worse, though Asami knew there was no good reason for it. The emptiness that she normally felt upon returning to her office now greeted her as soon as she stepped off the docks. And Tenzin and Pema’s enthusiasm over her presence made it even worse. In truth, the end of the wingsuit project was a welcome relief for Asami. It would allow her to escape everything: the well-intentioned queries, the concerned looks, the empty words of encouragement. It all made her feel oddly irritated, which in turn brought out her guilt.

Asami did her best not to dwell on this as she followed Meelo into the building, Pema walking close behind. The feasting room was full with noise from the airbenders, all still clad in their wingsuits. Meelo ran ahead and slid into a table in between Kai and Jinora. “Steamed buns!” he shouted, reaching for a plate in the middle. His sister let out an audible groan.

Asami spotted Opal at a table in a corner, quietly eating opposite Ryu. She hadn’t seen her since the day she and Tenzin had dismissed the young airbender’s warnings about Kuvira. After that, Opal and Kai had been sent off to a town near Omashu, notably away from the “Uniter’s” current efforts. Asami thought about joining the silent duo when Tenzin suddenly appeared before her.

“Asami! I think today went well,” he said, smiling. Pema handed Rohan off to him, and he immediately swung his two year-old son onto his shoulders.

“I do too,” Asami answered. “I was worried Bumi might have another accident when he hesitated to open his wings, but everything went smoothly for a change.”

“Well, I know that the airbenders and I cannot thank you enough for this,” Tenzin declared, looking around the room. Help me save the airbenders, then you can worry about saving me, Asami suddenly heard in her head.

“Are you going to be joining us for lunch?” Pema asked.

The question threw her; she had been on the verge of asking about Korra. “I—” I really should. “I’m not sure I can stay for long.” 

Pema nodded. “Well there’s plenty of food. But we’ll have to have you over for dinner to properly thank you. And to catch up.”

“It will need to be after I get back,” Tenzin said, trying to ignore Rohan pulling on his left ear.

“Get back from where?” Asami asked.

Tenzin and Pema exchanged a look. “I suppose I didn’t mention,” the airbending master said quietly. “I’m going to the South Pole next week.”

Asami felt her heart skip a beat. “Have there been any updates?” She did her best to make her voice sound casual.

“I’m afraid there’s not much new to report. My mother says that Korra moves around a bit better each day...she’s even sparring again now. But there’s been no spiritual progress. I’m hoping my visit will help her with that, though she’s in good hands with my mother.”

“Oh.” Asami felt as though Tenzin were far away, her mind shifting into overdrive. She’s ready for a visitor? Even without spiritual progress? If she’s sparring she has to be feeling better on some level. But she still hasn’t written? Maybe she’s written others. I’m being terrible; this is a good thing. But it still means—

“I’ll only be down there a couple of days," she heard Tenzin saying. "I can give a fuller report when I return.”

Asami made herself nod. “Well, good. That’s good she’ll be seeing someone. Give her my—my best.” She could feel Pema’s eyes on her, but couldn’t bring herself to look over. “I’m sorry, I actually just remembered that I need to get back to my office sooner rather than later. There’s a pressing railway deadline I forgot I have to take care of. The magnets...in the trains...because of Varrick...” She let her voice trail off. Pema and Tenzin both stared uncomprehendingly. “So, I have to go. But let’s set up that dinner soon.” She turned to leave before their perfunctory goodbyes even left their lips.

Once outside, Asami stopped walking for a minute and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. You’re being ridiculous, she told herself, though somehow it didn’t seem to help. She started to head back towards the docks when a voice from behind startled her.

“Asami!” Pema was emerging from the hall, holding a handbag out in front of her. “You forgot this.”

“Oh, thank you.” Asami took her purse back, already feeling guilty for her abrupt exit. “I’m—I’m sorry about this. We’re just about to start construction in Central City Station and we can’t afford to fall behind.”

“Okay,” Pema said flatly, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. She leaned in slightly. “But how are you?”

Asami gave a noncommittal shrug. “I'm fine. I mean, I’m the same. Busy.”

“For what it’s worth, it was my mother-in-law that invited Tenzin down. I don’t even think Korra knew until a few days ago.”

Why is she telling me this?  Whatever Pema was thinking, her face didn’t betray it. “Oh...okay.” Asami answered awkwardly, unsure how else to respond. "That's...I'm glad Katara did that."

Pema lifted an eyebrow before smiling gently. “Look, I’m sure Korra will reach out when she’s ready. Tenzin’s visit is going to be a first test in a way. It might push her towards talking. She’s probably felt like she’s been doing you some kind of favor with her silence the past couple of years.”

She can’t know, can she? I’ve never said anything. Asami’s mouth felt dry. She finally managed, “I just want Korra to be...to be okay. And however that needs to happen is fine. ” This isn’t about me, and I’m being silly anyway. Verbalizing that thought seemed to give her clarity. She continued with more conviction, “She’s doing what’s right for her so that she can heal. That’s what’s important—that she takes the time to get better. It’s always been what’s important. And if it has to be without communicating...it’s all fine, really.”

Pema placed a hand on her hip. “You know, back when Tenzin was still dating Lin, I used to have similar thoughts. I could see that he wasn’t happy, but I’d tell myself he was doing what he thought was right for himself. I guess part of it was that I didn’t feel I had any right to be hurt, so all I could do was comfort myself with the idea that he was doing what made sense for him.” She paused, scanning Asami’s face. “But you know what I realized? People don’t always know what’s best for them. Especially people with the world on their shoulders. It doesn’t have to be fine.”

Asami opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words. With a slight inclination of her head, Pema turned and walked back indoors.

Chapter Text

Asami stepped out of the hospital and shielded her eyes from the sun. It was already almost directly overhead—the whole morning, shot. Instinctively she touched her right forearm, as though to remind herself that the shooting pain she had been feeling earlier made it worth the hassle. There wasn’t even tenderness now, and the ease with which it had been healed made her wonder if she couldn’t have simply waited for the end of the work day. Was it really so bad? If it hadn’t been for Tej’s worried tones she might have stayed at the estate for a few hours as she had planned before heading back to her office. What difference would a stress fracture have made for my paperwork?

“Miss Sato!” A voice suddenly interrupted the thought. She whirled around to see a man in a pressed suit, a notebook in hand. No, not today, she thought. The reporter took a few steps forward. “The name’s Cheng, with The United Republican.”

Asami forced her lips into a small smile. “Cheng, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. It’s usually Minoru himself hunting me down.”

He frowned slightly. “He’s in the Earth Kingdom for an assignment. But there are other writers at our desk.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” The day was already getting away from her; she didn’t have the time to sort through reporters’ egos.

“I hope you don’t mind; I spotted your car in the parking lot. Are you sick? Or perhaps is Future Industries donating a wing?”

She folded her arms. “That’s not a bad idea, though it’s nothing so exciting today. Just some clumsiness in my gym.”

“You’re hurt?” Cheng asked, eyes widening.

“I’m fine. We have great healers in the city.” Asami answered. “But please, I’m afraid I can’t offer further comment today. I’m already running behind for a meeting.”

She turned and left Cheng at that, who mercifully didn’t follow, instead spluttering over a ‘goodbye.’ He’s too green to be much of an enemy, she thought, digging her keys out of her purse. And there’d be no reporter who would have expected more from her.

It was a short drive from the hospital to Future Industries tower, though Asami still found herself speeding. Odds were, she’d barely beat out Samir’s team. They can always wait. Raiko had insisted on outside contractors to do the brunt of the city’s construction work, wanting to offload the burden on the police department.

Yet all that meant were countless meetings with back-and-forths on timelines, on imports, on budgets...on just about everything. Back-and-forths that she and Sarika needed to head up, not Raiko himself. That fact was never less infuriating to think about, even if the negotiations were becoming second-nature to her. It helped that Sarika no longer insisted on attending every single one; he rarely was willing to draw a hard line, leaving Asami to take charge anyway.

It suited her fine. She had come to learn the personalities of the foremen and lead engineers, of Samir’s overly-rigid contract administrator and conservative estimator, of the site-manager’s impatience and the superintendent's need for clear project definitions. She knew them all, and knew how to make her point.

This meeting proved no different than the past four, though she had cut her arrival so close that she wasn’t able to change out of her clothes from the morning. Perhaps even that was to her advantage. Reminding them that she was an engineer herself—not just a suit—likely went a long way. Yet despite the success, her painted smile faded the moment they left her office, leaving her with a headache and a fresh stack of papers on her desk.

Asami sorted through them, pulling out the extraneous drawings, before poking her head out the door into the reception area. “Anju?” she called.

The secretary looked in her direction with a knowing smile. “That one went long. Will you be wanting me to order your usual lunch?”

“Not today,” she answered slowly, realizing she hadn’t eaten since the morning—before her two hours wasted at the hospital. “I’m actually going to be going up to my penthouse for a little to clean off and can grab something there.” She dimly recalled leftovers from some meal at Capital’s in her refrigerator. “I have some papers that I need delivered to Sarika. I’m going to write him a quick note right now, but would you mind taking care of it by mid-afternoon?”

“Not a problem,” Anju replied.

“Thank you. And try to clear my calendar for the rest of the day?” The morning had thrown her off; she needed time to herself in her workshop. Time to think.

Once the secretary nodded in understanding, Asami retreated back into her office where she began to scribble down her notes for Sarika, not bothering to sit. She had nearly completed the task when the door suddenly banged open.

She jumped and looked up to see Ginni marching in, Anju close behind. “We need to talk,” the publicist told her.

“Please, Miss Sato, I tried to stop her,” Anju called.

“Is everything okay?” Asami asked.

Ginni gave a laugh. “Yes, that’s why I nearly broke your door off your hinges.”

“I told you,” Anju insisted, “I can get you on her schedule tomorrow morning.”

“Anju, it’s fine,” Asami assured her. “Could you give us the room?”

The secretary nodded and left, pulling the door behind her. It had barely clicked when Ginni threw her hands into the air. “So? You want to tell me about that little stunt of yours?”

“Stunt...” Asami repeated slowly, confused.

“This morning? Your arm?”

She absentmindedly flexed her hand, as if expecting pain to return to it. “How do you know about this?”

“A little reporter told me. What were you doing talking to the press without talking to me first?”

“I...” Asami leaned against her desk and folded her arms. “Cheng approached me without warning. I barely told him anything. I don’t even think I mentioned what I hurt.”

Ginni put a hand on her hip. “Well lucky for us, it seems that healers talk. And Cheng just happened to get an earful.”

“What would there even have been to hear?” she asked with a laugh. “This was hardly a stunt, Ginni. It was a simple stress fracture that thanks to our overcrowded hospital, took a few hours to take care of. Maybe I should donate a wing.”

Her publicist ignored that. “A simple stress fracture? Funny, when I talked to your trainer, he told me that you were pushing yourself at least three times as hard as you should be. And that he asked you to take a break.”

Asami could feel her anger rising. “You went to Tej behind my back?”

“I was trying to get ahead of this,” Ginni answered. “That’s my job, remember?”

“There’s nothing to get ahead of! This was just an extended session in my gym.” She realized she was gripping the desk and let go.

“Tej made it sound like this was more than a one time thing.”

“Just how long did you grill my trainer, exactly?”

“Asami,” Ginni brought a hand to the bridge of her nose. “I’m your publicist, and I need to anticipate anything that might make my job harder. If you’re exercising excessively to the point of injury, I need to get to the bottom of that. I wanted to know if Tej thought anything was off.”

“What do you think?”

“I...” She hesitated. “I think we need to be worried about what the papers will do with this.”

Asami folded her arms. “I don’t see why the papers would find this to be of any interest. I can't be the first person who's ever pulled a muscle."

“Or punched something so hard your bone fractured,” Ginni pointed out with a smirk. “Look, The United Republican certainly seemed interested, if nothing else.”

“They also run stories about how the badger moles at the zoo are part of Raiko’s plan for world domination.”

“I thought that one was quite convincing.” When Asami rolled her eyes, her publicist continued, “Whatever the quality, it’s the biggest magazine in the city. And frankly, that they'd want to take this angle isn't shocking. I’ve already had to deal with a handful of people frustrated over your silence, you know.”

“Silence?” Asami asked in disbelief. “It feels like I’m giving a press conference every other week.”

“About your work, not about you. You’re a very private person—even more so lately. Since you took over Future Industries reporters have been trying to dig into that. You know, write about the real Asami.”

“That’s reflected in my work!”

Ginni gave her a smile that was almost pitying. “Unfortunately, that’s not going to sell as many issues as your preferred brand of lipstick.”

“I’m not going to give that kind of interview,” she said, annoyed. She doubted her competitors were ever asked to do the same.

“I know you won’t,” Ginni laughed. “I’ve done everything I could to keep you out of something like that, and it’s been mostly fine. I can market the beautiful, enigmatic industrialist. But if people start to think you’re actually just a snobby head-case with stress issues...”

“You're sure this is coming from the reporters?.”

“Oh don't look at me like that! You’ve seen the hatchet jobs they’re capable of, haven't you? My point is that you’ve frustrated this press corps for some time, and there's likely be a reporter or two tempted to write a piece that paints you as some out-of-touch heiress. Add neuroses into the mix, and it’s begging for a PR nightmare. Especially with Republic City Sun’s downturn.”

Asami pushed herself upright. “So what, it doesn’t matter that we just had positive press about the wingsuits last week? One injury is going to undo everything we’ve worked for because I’d rather talk about the products on my line than the ones in my hair?”

“In fairness, I think everyone would benefit from that.”

“Ginni...”

“It’s about your personal brand, how many times do I have to say that?”

“Apparently a few more.”

Ginni sighed. "Look, I don’t think Cheng had enough to write a full piece, but if this does get out, can I at least tell the press it was part of your 'Team Avatar' training?”

"No," Asami said sharply.

"I know you guys aren't in action, but it's better than—"

"No!" she repeated, louder.

Ginni seemed unphased. "You're not leaving me with a lot of options to spin this."

"There's nothing to spin! There's barely even anything to write. It's an injury, that's all. It happens. If they want to use it to publish a take-down story over a gym session, I doubt we'll be the ones who sound unbalanced." Asami felt a headache setting in. “Do you think you can keep Cheng silent?”

“I know I can, but—”

“Then that’s all the conversation we need to have about this.”

“I don’t think it is,” Ginni said stubbornly. “There’s something crucial in this whole tale you're failing to mention: Future Industries is on top. Your partnership with Pukiq has paid off, you just helped the entire Air Nation, and your last quarter was huge. You have cause to be celebrating just about every week, and yet you’re exercising yourself into the grave.” She took a step closer. “Maybe we should talk about that. ”

Asami looked down. “It’s nothing... It’s fine. Training helps me think, that’s all.” She shook her head. “I need to go up to my apartment. I’ve had a long morning, and I still have to clean up and eat something.”

“I don’t care if you need to go to the Fire Nation. It’s not nothing, and we need to discuss it.”

Asami didn’t have the strength to argue, but instead turned to leave her office. The half-written note to Sarika would simply have to do.

Ginni at least had the sense to stop talking as they moved through the reception area to Asami’s private elevator. However as soon as the doors closed, she started in again. “This isn't unrelated to your bottom line either, you know. Your personal image has a public value, and it ties into people’s willingness to buy our products. If you’re not taking care of yourself...”

Asami flashed her a look of annoyance as the elevator finished its one story climb. The two women stepped out again, right into the penthouse apartment. Asami forced herself to inhale before turning to look at her publicist. "Ginni, I am taking care of myself. You don’t need to worry about that.”

She nodded, though her eyes were scanning the room, looking across the ceiling at the exposed piping. "I guess you’re right. See, I had been worrying that you take your work home with you, but now I realize that you just never leave it."

"I trust you noticed we're still in Future Industries Tower, right?" Asami retorted. There was something about Ginni standing in the middle of the living room that made her feel... What was it? Anger? It’s just your headache. She couldn't recall the last time someone had seen her penthouse. If someone had seen her penthouse. Was Mako ever even up here?

Ginni took a few steps across the room and paused by a bookcase, her fingers absentmindedly brushing the shelves. "I guess there's a charm, though these windows have to be freezing in the winter, I'd imagine." She looked back. "You really never stay at your estate?"

That was the last question she wanted to answer. She folded her arms. "Well, I wouldn't want to be tempted to train any more than is absolutely necessary." Asami saw Ginni flinch at the edge in her voice. She's trying to help. To her surprise, the publicist remained quiet, regarding her with curiosity. Asami suddenly felt as though it were difficult to look at her. "I'm—I need to clean up." She turned to walk down the hallway, into her bedroom.

"Wait, we're not done here," Ginni called, following. “If your trainer was willing to talk to me, what's to stop a reporter from getting a hold of him? And this points to a larger issue—” She stopped and leaned against the doorway. "Oh good, you do have a bed. I was beginning to think you just make whirring noises for a couple of hours each night."

Asami felt as though she wanted to yell at her, or shake her, or...something. But why? "Can this wait? Please?" She needs to leave.

“Sure; as the boss you set the schedule," she said with a shrug. "So you can deal with me now or deal with me later, but isn’t the first option more fun?” Asami’s face must have betrayed her emotions, because Ginni softened before speaking again. “I'm sorry; I know you’re not in the mood. But this is exactly what I’m paid to do.”

“I think this is excessive, even for you.”

Ginni folded her arms. “Well, that's why you hired me, right? For my thoroughness?”

Asami walked to her dresser and opened a drawer, more as an excuse to keep her back to Ginni than anything else.  After a moment she sighed and said, “Tej can be trusted. If I asked him not to say anything, he wouldn’t. Even if I didn’t, I don’t think he’d speak to the press. Though apparently he's quite chatty around you."

"I have that effect on people. But good! Of course, we’ll also have to talk to him about decreasing the intensity of your sessions.”

Asami whipped around. “I think that’s my choice.”

An odd expression crossed Ginni’s face. “Asami...what I was saying before... Look, I’m concerned. This is all symptomatic of a bigger problem." She hesitated for a moment. "I know you say you're taking care of yourself, but the fact is, you have seemed a bit off this past month. Maybe even longer, now that I think about it. That’s actually part of why I talked to Tej before you."

“What do you mean?”

The publicist considered that for a moment. “You’ve been quieter, I suppose, if that’s possible. Taking fewer meetings and keeping longer hours in your office. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve been delegating,” Asami said. “Katsu is better off handling most of the sales meetings without me there, and that gives me more time to innovate.”

“After what happened with the bayside factory, it seemed like you had wanted to be more hands-on.”

“I've checked in with every site manager since then and requested regular reports from them. I’m just trying to prioritize.” In truth, the idea of meetings was exhausting to Asami lately. The only time she managed to feel energized was in her workshop, tools in hand. "Is this because of the new Chief of Operations position? Even you said I had been overdue to appoint one."

“Damnit, this isn't about your approach to company governance, this is about you. I mean, you’re working on the weekends now, from what I can tell. And from the looks of your apartment, your job has become your life,” Ginni pressed. "Look, I’ve given you space in this department—"

“You have?” Asami laughed derisively.

Ginni didn’t even smile. “In terms of your personal life? Yes, I have. I’ve even had to cover for you, and done it without hesitation. Did you know that when you ran out on Sheil his agent contacted me to find out why? I had to make up an excuse to explain your behavior.”

“That...I...” She paused. “It wasn’t anything bad—I just didn’t feel anything towards him.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.”

She can't be implying... “Sheil and I left on good terms,” she insisted, trying to ignore the feeling in her gut. Good enough, at least. “And I don’t understand how one botched date with a mover star means that my publicist gets to decide my training regimen."

Ginni narrowed her eyes. "Asami, when that happened, I let it go. It wasn’t a big PR disaster because two of Republic City’s eligible elite deciding, ‘oh, I’m just not feeling this,’ isn’t exactly news-worthy. But I also stopped pushing on your romantic life in general." She paused and shook her head. "Maybe I shouldn’t have. If I had known how you were going to handle it, I wouldn’t have."

“Handle it?” Asami started. “I’m not sure what you—“

“She’s not coming back.”

Asami's blood seemed to freeze. “What do you mean?” she forced herself to say.

Ginni’s eyes were bold behind her glasses. “Korra. She’s not coming back. At least not anytime soon.”

“Wh—why would you...” Asami couldn’t even finish the deflection. She could feel her heart in her throat.

“Did you think no one would notice? The partially obscured letters, the change of subject whenever she’s brought up... The refusal to even talk about your time fighting alongside her when I asked...” Ginni sounded almost pained. “You convinced Raiko to build a statue of her, for crying out loud.”

“She’s more than earned that,” she snapped. “I’ve missed her, of course I have. She’s my best friend.”

“It’s been over two years, Asami. This isn’t how a best friend acts, and you know that.” Her face softened. “And now you know that I know.”

Asami stared for a moment, her heartbeat growing almost painful. "Fine, then you know," she spit out at last. She could hear the anger in her voice but somehow couldn’t seem to stop herself. "So, what now? Is this the piece on me you’ve wanted? Finally give the press corps that transparency they’ve been craving. After all, nothing will give better insight to our consumers and really distance us from those pesky Equalist ties, right? 'The Girl Who Loves the Avatar'. I can see the magazine covers now."

"Asami, I'd never—"

"No, you're right, what was I thinking? It needs to be a rhyme, or a double entendre."

"Stop it."

"'Two Years, Too Long'? It's inelegant, but not a bad first draft. Maybe you and Cheng can workshop it on your next call."

"Asami!" There was no irritation on Ginni's face as Asami had expected, but she couldn’t recall her publicist ever looking so serious. "I want to say that you know I'd never do anything like that, but it's a little hard to tell where your head is right now. For the record, I only brought this up because it's clear that keeping it in has been hurting you."

"As if I'm the first person to have unrequited feelings," she answered.

"That doesn't make them any easier to deal with!"

"I've dealt with worse. I can handle missing someone."

Ginni sighed. "My point is that you haven't been handling it at all."

Why can't you just leave this alone? "There's nothing to handle, and this doesn't matter. She’s not here, like you said."

"Does it matter that Tej had to scrape you off of a mat this morning?"

Asami felt her hand curl into a ball. "I can be more careful."

"But you're angry, Asami,” Ginni insisted. “If it doesn't come out in your workouts, it'll just be something else."

"That's ridiculous. Tej can confirm that I have nothing personal against him when we spar."

"I'm saying you're walking around bottling this up. Would you listen to yourself?! It's okay that you're mad at her, but don't you see that denying everything is making it all worse?"

Ginni's words were like a blow to the stomach. "I'm—I’m not mad at her,” Asami stammered.

“Right, so then all this was a performance for what exactly?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

“No, I’m not...I can’t be.” To her horror, Asami felt tears forming. She did her best to blink them away. "Korra's doing what she needs, and I know that. She’s healing. It’s just I've been stressed lately, that's all. There's no reason... I have no right to be angry."

Ginni threw her hands up. “Oh so now you’re guilting yourself for feeling this way. That makes sense! Look, I know you’ve grown accustomed to your misery, but this is a new level.” She took a step closer. “You have every right to feel how you do, Asami.”

“You don’t understand,” she said through gritted teeth. “You didn’t see what she went through. I just... I just have to deal with it.”

“By breaking your arm off.”

“By not making this about me.”

“You’re not making anything about you, that’s my point,” Ginni said with a hollow laugh. “And maybe you’re fine with that, but the people who care about you aren’t. At least...I’m not.”

Their eyes met and for a second the world seemed to stop moving. Then, without thinking, Asami raced forward and embraced Ginni, who kissed back fervently, pulling her closer by the waist. Before long, their clothes were strewn about on the floor.

Asami lay on her back staring at the ceiling. The sun was setting, filling the room with a warm, orange glow. She could feel Ginni stirring but couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge her. This was a mistake. Whatever she had hoped the act of madness would prove, it somehow left her feeling emptier inside. Though the publicist had proven a feisty partner, Asami found herself relatively disconnected during, taking more enjoyment in Ginni’s engagement than from any physical reaction on her own part. She put her palm on her forehead and closed her eyes.

“Asami?” Ginni lightly placed a hand on her side.

She sat upright in response, still not able to face her. The thought of physical contact suddenly made her feel sick. “We...that shouldn’t have happened.” Asami swung her legs off the bed and looked around the room for her clothing. She found her pants first and hastily put them on, not caring about the location of her undergarments.

“What are you—“ Ginni spotted Asami dressing and let out an exasperated sigh. “See and here I had you pegged as being one for pillow-talk.”

Where could my damned shirt have possibly gotten to? Asami looked over her shoulder. “I’m your boss. This was wrong.”

Ginni rolled her eyes and propped herself up onto her side. “Well, as the person in charge of your image, I suppose I should appreciate your commitment to professionalism.”

Asami found her shirt by the foot of her desk and pulled it on, keeping her back to the bed. “Ginni...I’m going to have to let you go. You know that, right?”

“No, I’d advise against that.”

Is she trying to be playful? Asami turned and stared. “I—I don’t think we should work together after this. I don’t see how...”

“No no, I don’t think firing me will play well.” Ginni sat up and grabbed her glasses from the nightstand. She put them on but made no move to get off the bed. “I’m too good. People will ask questions. And I doubt you want anyone digging into it.”

“Are you suggesting that what just happened is going to get out? Because I’m not going to be talking to anyone.”

“Of course not. I’m just saying you don’t want people asking about my sudden and inexplicable departure.”

"So you’re just going to keep being my publicist?" Asami asked, bemused. She can’t think this is going anywhere, can she?

Ginni gave her a tired look. “No, I’m going to resign. Just let me find something else first, okay? I’ll say that your company’s image is too good now or something. That I need a challenge. It’s not entirely a lie.” She turned her head away and glanced out the window.

Asami found herself oddly touched. She didn’t know what to say, so instead gathered up some of Ginni’s clothes and placed them on the foot of the bed. At last, she managed, “I appreciate that. I—I’m sorry for all of this.”

Ginni quickly turned back. “Sorry?”

"Just, for how everything played out."

“You act like I was an unwilling participant. I knew what this would mean.”

Asami felt a chill sweep over her. She suddenly wished that Ginni would leave. She needed to cry, or sleep, or maybe draw blueprints, but whatever it was Asami needed to do it in peace. Maybe I’m just worried that if she stays I’ll give in again, she thought, full of self-resentment. When she spoke, her throat was surprisingly dry. “I’m sure you won’t have trouble finding something else. Finding a replacement for you is another story.” She turned away from the bed.

Ginni must have taken that as a sign, because when Asami looked back, the publicist was in the midst of dressing. She caught Asami’s eye and said, “I can help out with that. I know a few up-and-comers.” She edged towards the foot of the bed and began to pull her boots on. “Look, Asami. I know it’s not my place—though frankly whatever my place was doesn’t matter anymore—but have you ever just considered telling her? You’re walking around keeping this in like some giant ball of stress. And clearly your coping mechanisms aren’t working for you.”

Asami folded her hands across her chest. “That’s hardly the only stress in my life.”

“I know, but it’s more that you...well. You’re isolated,” Ginni insisted.

“Even with Katsu taking on a larger role I’m still meeting with upwards of twenty people on a given day.”

“I mean emotionally isolated.”

Asami was filled with a mad urge to scream at Ginni to leave. Or maybe to kiss her again. She had been a good kisser. She looked down before answering. “I’m going to be more careful about my exercise, I promise. But let’s not talk about this.”

Ginni stood and gave her a searching look. “I'm just worried about you.”

“Ginni...please...”

The publicist gave a short nod. “Got it,” she responded shortly. “I can see myself out.” As she made to leave the room, she stopped in the doorway and looked back. “You know, you may think you’re great at keeping your own counsel, but if today wasn’t a wake-up call then I don’t know what will be.” She shook her head. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry that this was so clearly distressing for you.”

“Ginni,” Asami began, but the publicist walked out of the room.

Asami remained standing in her spot, letting every self-deprecating thought wash over her. She was interrupted after a moment—or perhaps it was closer to a quarter of an hour—by a sudden buzzing on her intercom. It was rare for Anju to ever use it, reserving it only for visitors deemed important enough. Asami crossed to the box by the front door and pressed a button. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” her secretary’s voice responded, “it’s just that there are two members of the White Lotus here to see you.”

The White Lotus? She couldn’t imagine why they would call on her in person unless... Could something have gone horribly wrong with the wingsuits? It hadn’t even been a month since the press conference. “I’ll be right down.”

Her elevator was still stationed on a lower floor thanks to Ginni’s departure, so Asami opted to take the fire stairs, forcing herself not to sprint. No sooner had she reached the reception area than she spotted them, one leaning against Anju’s desk.

“Hi,” she said uncertainly, crossing the room as they both straightened. “Is something wrong? Is it the wingsuits? Did we miss something in the testing? Bumi was injured three months ago, but I was sure the magnetic snaps resolved it, unless we haven’t been careful enough screening the metal for impurities—”

One of the guards held up his hands in defense, eyes wide. The other patted her on her shoulder. "No, no, nothing like that, Miss Sato. As far as we've heard the wingsuits are working exceedingly well."

"Oh, well...good.” Asami could feel heat rising to her face.

"Yes, it is good, I suppose. But that's not why we're here…" He dug into his bag and handed her a firm envelope sealed with the sigil of the White Lotus. "We have a letter for you and we thought it best to deliver it personally. From the Avatar."

Chapter Text

“...but the biggest problem is that the new line is over-performing.”

It took a few moments for Katsu’s words to register. Asami stopped doodling a propulsion coil and looked up at her director of sales. “Over-performing,” she repeated, putting her pen down. “And that’s a problem?”

He smiled an easy smile. “It means I have to put the brakes on a few of these deals because the cars are on backorder. But these towns don’t want to wait. We do still have competitors.” Katsu was a tenacious salesman, always finding new markets even in places where Future Industries had failed before. For the past few months he had focused his efforts on newly unified Earth Kingdom towns and villages that were only now in a position to buy technology. Asami couldn’t complain about his results; the new Satomobile models were flying off the line faster than Shoji’s most optimistic estimates.

“But Satomobiles last longer,” she pointed out. “And no other car has power steering yet.”

“And you can bet I say that in my pitches! People who already own a vehicle are happy to wait a few months. The trouble is with the villages that have never even seen Satomobiles before. They don’t know the difference in make and model. All they know is that vehicles help towns. It means trade.” Katsu’s face became uncharacteristically solemn. “It means survival.”

Isn’t that what the magnet train is supposed to be doing? Most of Asami’s meetings these days dealt with train retrofits and the new construction to Central City Station. If the representatives from Kuvira’s campaign could be believed, the United Republic was lagging well behind them in building the rail infrastructure. Yet if the newly stabilized regions were so desperate for cars, perhaps the Earth Kingdom wasn’t as efficient as was being claimed. Or perhaps the train isn’t being used the way we thought it would . “Do you see a solution?”

“We could always try and expand the line, if your factories can handle that,” Katsu suggested. “But I think there’s a market for used Satomobiles that we’ve been letting go unexplored. Especially with your new sport model coming out in a few months. Right now other businesses have made a go of repairing older cars and reselling them. Maybe we should get in on that.”

“That would mean a significant expansion for  us,” Asami said hesitantly.

“But who better to repair Satomobiles than Future Industries? And that way I can offer more affordable products that are ready-to-go to the places that really need it.”

Asami studied Katsu’s face. He had never struck her as someone who cared about others so much as he cared about landing a sale. She was under the distinct impression he was giving her a practiced pitch, though she could hardly argue with the sentiment. “I’ll talk to Shoji about purchasing a subsidiary company. I think building a branch from nothing might be too resource-heavy right now. In the meanwhile, we’ll prioritize filling our Earth Kingdom orders first, and I’ll talk to our line managers about expediting production.” She made a few notes as she spoke, trying not to let her writing get in the way of her hastily drawn schematic. I’ll have to talk to Pukiq about changing his shipping routes. “Maybe you should focus on pitching the sports model until then. It should be ready in four months if things continue on schedule.”

Katsu nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, I was just about to suggest that! I actually have a meeting in Ba Sing Se’s Upper Ring next week for that purpose. Maybe I can even find a way to wrangle this boy-prince into coming. I hear he's supposed to be visiting the Capital soon. Can you imagine if the new Earth King shows up to his coronation in brand new, luxury Satomobile?”

Asami let herself laugh. She had read about this 'Prince Wu' who would be taking over leadership of the Earth Kingdom. Though depending on how things went for Kuvira, it could well be another couple of years before he’d be able to rule. “It sounds promising then,” she offered. “Do you need me to come to this meeting?”

“Well I’d never want to turn down your company,” he said, flashing another winning smile. “But I’ll be okay if I can get a brief on the technical specifications. It’s easier if it’s just me.”

‘It’s easier to tell you about this stuff,’ Asami suddenly heard in her head. Though three weeks had passed since she received Korra’s letter, the reminder still made her heart skip a beat. Initially, she had needed to read it four times before she could even process the words. Just seeing “Dear Asami” had made her tear up, and by the time she got through it once, her hands were shaking so badly that she was worried she might faint.

The second read scared her. Even though Korra’s face and voice were uncomfortably distant memories, Asami still couldn’t imagine her saying the words “sometimes I worry I’ll never recover.” Korra’s despair and pain had been clear after her injury, but that it was still persisting two years later left Asami feeling almost panicked. How could Tenzin have been talking about her so optimistically? When the airbender had returned, he spoke all about Korra’s firebending and her eagerness to fix the Earth Kingdom, but somehow her complete misery had escaped his attention. Or he didn’t want to tell me .

It was on the third time through the letter that other words jumped out at Asami: Korra’s apology, that she had tried writing before, that this letter was the only she managed and wanted it to be just between them. For the first time in over two years Asami felt almost hopeful; perhaps things weren’t entirely one-sided. But as soon as she recognized what she was feeling, it quickly switched to anger. How can I be this selfish?

It wasn’t until the fourth read that she was able to view it as a whole. Korra’s inability to go into the Avatar state worried her the most, especially given that she had no ties to her past lives anymore, who once might have been able to provide guidance. Asami also realized how difficult it must have been for Korra to write this; admitting weakness was not something The Avatar had ever been comfortable with. But it seemed to Asami like it was a positive sign, no matter how painful the words were. If Korra was allowing herself to process her emotions and fears, it could only serve to guide her healing process.

Asami had written as much in her letter back, amongst other words. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she had nothing to offer Korra than meaningless platitudes, but she responded all the same. And after twenty minutes of deliberation as to whether or not to include it, Asami offered to visit the South Pole in the conclusion of her letter.

She had received no response. Other than yet another letter from her father a few days past, Asami’s mail was as business-focused as ever. In truth, she had expected no different. But where before she had grown so inured to the silence that she hardly gave it a thought, now it scared her. When her concern would take over, she would reread Korra’s letter, even though she had it perfectly memorized. There was no new information to be gleaned, but somehow knowing that Korra had written the words less than a month ago helped ease Asami’s anxiety.

“Asami? Did you...want to come?” Katsu was shifting in his chair.

“What? No,” she said, trying to focus back on the salesman. “No, you’ll do perfectly fine. I’m sorry, I was just reminded of something.”

He nodded, unperturbed. “I’m also looking to head to the North Pole within the month. I think there’s real potential with—” The door to Asami’s office swung open without warning, cutting off Katsu. Ginni walked into the room as comfortably as if it were her own, an accordion folder under her arm. When she met Asami’s gaze she gave a small smile, but there was a hard, challenging look in her eyes.

“Ginni! What a pleasant surprise!” Katsu said, turning in his chair and grinning up at the publicist.

It took a moment for Asami to find her own words. “I’m—we’re in a meeting.”

“You are,” Ginni said with an exaggerated nod. “But it’s the darndest thing. I’ve been needing to talk to you, but Anju told that me our meeting this afternoon was cancelled. Just like yesterday. And two days before that. What are the odds?” Her voice was heavy with irony, unlikely to be lost on Katsu.

Asami glanced towards the salesman, though he was still turned away. She would have been angry if Ginni didn’t have a point, but for the past few weeks, Asami had been doing everything she could to avoid her. Canceling their meetings had been easy at first: she was always able to pretend that she was innovating in her shop and didn’t want to be disturbed. Yet Ginni was only a few floors away, and after the one week of this, had taken to unexpectedly turning up at Anju’s desk. After a quick run-in in the elevator, Asami began scheduling more meetings with Sarika to get out of Future Industries Tower entirely. She was able to blame this on the complications of upgrading the republic’s rail system to support magnet trains, though in reality, there was little overlap between what designs she needed to draw versus the mapping with which Sarika was tasked. Their meetings more often than not were the two of them working next to other, but silently. Still, it was an easy silence, and if the city planner found it odd, he never gave any indication.

“I’ll be at City Hall this afternoon,” Asami said, doing the best to keep her voice even. “And Katsu and I are currently discussing sales strategy.”

“I can see that. Fortunately, what I need to talk to you about concerns him as well. May I?” Ginni gestured towards the empty chair on Katsu’s left, but didn’t wait for an answer before plopping herself into it. Her folder remained closed on her lap as she spoke again. “I landed you a cover feature for the next issue of The United Republican .”

“That’s great! It’s gotta be the most-read magazine in the city,” Katsu said, looking eagerly in Asami’s direction.

It is good news . “Yes, thank you, that’s...exciting,” she said, in a tone she knew didn’t match the enthusiasm of her words. “Weren’t we trying for Popular Technology ?”

“Anyone reading that probably knows about most of your products; I wanted more exposure,” Ginni dismissed, with a wave of her hand. “Anyway we’re already in good shape for it. We’ve got plenty of unpublished interview responses from you about both the infrastructure and the wingsuits, and I gave the writer some of our marketing materials. But I also wanted quotes from clients and end-users, which is where Katsu comes in.” She turned to the salesman. “We want to deemphasize both military technology and Satomobiles. Do you know of any clients for our other products who might be good interviews?”

Asami shifted in her seat. Though Katsu was certainly knowledgeable in this area, it was hardly a request worthy of a meeting. She hoped he didn’t see through that. “Why are we deemphasizing Satomobiles?”

When Ginni looked back towards her, Asami dropped her eyes and picked up her pen, which she idly twirled as the publicist spoke. "Because people know Future Industries means Satomobiles. This is to tell them what else you have to offer."

“Well,” Katsu said, before Asami could respond, “most of my sales lately have been from the new line, plus we have the sports model coming out soon. But...Nukka might be a good choice. She’s sponsoring a pro-bending team and we’re providing the fabric for new uniforms. Though she wasn’t the most personable. Oh there’s Girilal, the mayor of a small town. He did buy a couple of Satomobiles from me, but also generators, so he could talk that up. I don’t know how much there is to say on that though. Or maybe—”

Ginni held up her hand. “That all sounds great Katsu. But it might be best for you to go over your client lists. Do you think you could write me up something with five or six suggestions, as well as their pros and cons?”

“I can have it on your desk by the end of the day,” he replied, beaming. Ginni nodded at that and sat back in her chair.

She’s not going to leave unless I tell her to , Asami realized. And will probably have a few choice words for me when I do . “Then I’ll let you go get started on that, Katsu,” she heard herself say. “I think we’re in good shape. We can talk more about the Northern Water Tribe later, but I think I do need to touch base with Ginni today. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem.” Katsu rose from his chair. “End of the day,” he said to Ginni, winking and pointing a finger. When he turned his back, she sarcastically returned the gesture.

As soon as the door was closed, she turned back towards Asami. “Oh he never gets old, does he?”

In a different mood Asami would have laughed, but she was too upset with the publicist to even manage a smile. “I can’t believe you did that with Katsu in the room.”

“What, because you couldn’t hide from me?” The amusement from Ginni’s face was gone in an instant. “Did you leave me a choice?”

“He’s a yes-man, but he’s not an idiot. And now he knows I cancelled three meetings on you in one week.”

“And who’s he going to tell? It’s Katsu . He’s too enamored of his own position and genius to jeopardize anything,” Ginni said with a defiant look. “It’s been three weeks, Asami. I’ve tried to catch you alone, but you don’t even seem to be here anymore. Is this more of your famous delegation?”

“I’ve had to meet with Sarika more lately. We’re falling behind on some deadlines.”

"He must be happy. Though I’d have thought you learned your lesson with me."

Asami found her anger. “We’re at work, Ginni. This is my company. It has taken every ounce of strength that I have to keep it together and do my job the last few weeks. And you want to come in here behaving like this?”

Ginni laughed in disbelief. “ You’re angry with me ?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You disrupted my meeting with transparent excuse, and now you throw Sarika in my face?” She realized her hand was in a fist and uncoiled it, taking a breath. “Of course I’ve been avoiding you. Isn’t it easier that way?”

“Easier,” Ginni repeated. “Sure, of course it’s easier. Easier for you to pretend I don’t exist. Which by the way, is coming at a cost to this company that you’ve put every ounce of strength into.”

“Why, because of marketing emergencies?” Asami asked. She had meant it scornfully, but her tone was softening in spite of herself. She’s hurt, and it’s my fault. “Ginni, you know this company and our products better than anyone. You didn’t need to meet with me about the magazine.”

“No. I needed to meet with you to tender my resignation. I’m leaving.”

Despite being somewhat expected, the words still felt like a punch to the stomach. “You found something? Where?”

“I’m going to work for Ojas,” she said, opening her folder and leafing through it.

“Ojas? But...he’s...”

“In need of a publicist, wouldn’t you say?” Ginni asked, without looking up. “It will be a challenge, sure. And I may not be able to sleep as easily at night, but—” she drew a piece of paper out and placed it on the desk in front of Asami. “Here’s my official letter. Two weeks from yesterday will be my last.”

Asami looked at the page, but made no move to touch it. “I—I’m sorry to see you go,” she said quietly.

Ginni let out another bitter laugh. “Oh of course you are. It’s okay; I know you’ve been wanting to hear me say this.”

“You think this is what I wanted?”

The publicist fixed her with a cold stare. “I don’t know what you wanted. A distraction for a few hours? Well, I happily gave you that. But you have no right to act as if I’m not even here.

“I was only trying to—”

“‘Make it easier,’ I know. Though for which one of us? I told you I would resign, Asami. I told you I understood your feelings about Korra.” She looked away before continuing to speak. “The offer from Ojas is generous, but I never would have pursued it if you hadn’t been avoiding me.” She glanced back. “Why? What are you worried about?”

For a mad second, Asami considered telling her about Korra’s letter. “I’m sorry,” she said, after a moment. “You didn’t deserve that.” You didn’t deserve any of this .

Ginni opened her mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it. Instead she shook her head slightly and rifled through her folder once more, this time drawing out a small stack of papers. She placed it on top of her letter of resignation. “Here’s a few resumes that I thought were promising. I also had HR put out an open call this morning, so you’ll probably need to pick a few more from that group to interview. I can help with that.”

“Oh...good. I mean, thank you,” Asami said awkwardly. She couldn’t think how else to respond.

“I’ll have the material for the magazine together by next week, so you’re in good shape there. And I’ll also make sure everything’s in order for your upcoming ribbon-cutting a couple of months from now. As long as you hire someone within that time, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“My ribbon-cutting?”

An odd expression flickered across Ginni’s face. “For Avatar Korra Park. The statue should be completed by then.”

Chapter Text

“...and so this park will be a place for peace, a place for contemplation, a place for remembrance, and above all, a place to look towards the future—our spiritual future.” Sarika’s voice was even, but for all the grace of his words, his demeanor told a different story. The city planner was hunched over a podium, his head bent so low over his notes that Asami was worried his forehead might hit the microphone. In his right hand, he clutched a pair of oversized scissors tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

It had been Asami’s idea to let Sarika deliver the speech and be the one to cut the ribbon. Future Industries had received plenty of good press recently thanks to her magazine cover feature a little over a month ago, so giving the glory of the park’s unveiling to Raiko’s office suited her fine. With the infrastructure work drawing to close and their contract nearly at an end, Asami was always looking for opportunities to keep the President’s view of her favorable. She had also been eager to make up for the press conference where Sarika had been instructed to be as boring as possible. Though it took place over a year and a half prior and he had not spoken a single word against it, Asami had never felt comfortable using him in that way.

Yet watching the city planner stumble over his words now, she couldn’t help but wonder if Ginni had made that suggestion for reasons beyond the company image. Even with the crowd clapping in approval at his last sentence, Sarika looked as if he was about to faint. Asami tried to offer a reassuring smile from where stood next to him on the makeshift stage, but his eyes were glued to the podium still. “We’ll formally inaugurate Avatar Korra Park in just one moment, after which you will be led on our first official tour of the spirit wilds by none other than Master Jinora.”

As the crowd politely applauded once more, Asami saw the airbender give a bashful wave from the front row where she stood on President Raiko’s right. On her other side was Pema, Rohan in her arms, and Meelo. Tenzin was away in the Earth Kingdom, and Ikki had been charged with overseeing the airbenders’ afternoon training with the help of her uncle. Asami hoped Pema had enough sense not to go on the tour along with the press. Though her daughter would no doubt be appreciative of the support, the chances of Meelo interrupting or trying to derail the conversation seemed too high to risk it. As it was, the young airbender being so close to the President seemed like enough of a bad idea.

Sarika continued, “But first, we will be taking questions on the park and the wilds.”

You should have cut the ribbon first , Asami thought, inching closer towards the podium so that they could share the microphone. That way the photo-op is guaranteed to make a favorable impression. Behind them was the new statue of Korra. A ribbon had been placed encircling its base, not that it drew any attention away from the fifty-foot marble figure. Had the sun been out, its shadow would have easily covered the entire audience.

Though Asami had seen it in various stages of construction, she found the completed statue difficult to look at. It was exactly what she had asked for: Korra poised, one leg resting up on a rock, wearing a determined expression, purposely mimicking Republic City’s iconic statue of Aang that sat in Yue Bay. Yet finally seeing it in its full glory only served to remind Asami how long it had been since she had truly seen Korra’s face. And though the statue exuded strength, Asami couldn’t help but reflect on the truth. “Sometimes I worry I’ll never fully recover.” She wondered if Korra would find it flattering or insensitive. There were numerous times during its construction that Asami considered calling it off and tearing it down. Though in the end, honoring Korra for bringing about the new spiritual age always felt like the right thing to do.

Asami had been lucky that when she first arrived at the park for the ribbon-cutting, it was entirely empty aside from herself and her new publicist. She found herself getting more emotional than she expected looking at the statue, though her tears were safe with Xing. He had no reason to know why she would be crying, and was unlikely to press her.

Unlike Ginni, this publicist seemed content to let Asami have her secrets. Instead, his focus was solely on the image of Future Industries. “You’re the face of the company,” he had said at his interview. “But not the only face. The billboard featuring those two engineers was a great step in humanizing Future Industries beyond just you.” Asami had liked the sound of that. Xing was young, a fresh graduate, but his instincts seemed good. And his writing was even stronger than Ginni’s had been. Her personality was needed to turn a company’s image around, but Asami could see no reason why Xing wouldn’t be able to keep an already successful company on the right track.

As Asami had let tears roll down her face, Xing had said nothing, simply pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. Once the reporters arrived, however, she made sure to check herself on how much she dared glance up at the stone figure. Would they think she was looking too much? Or too little?

“Do you want to call on the reporters or should I?” Sarika asked in a low voice, covering the microphone with his hand.

Asami could tell he was still feeling uncomfortable. “I can manage,” she said. She quickly scanned the crowd. The number of raised hands were enough to give her a headache. We’ll have to cut this one off, most likely . She was about to call on a mustachioed reporter in a bowler hat when the woman to his right looked up. Asami felt her stomach lurch. Ginni? How could I have missed her coming in? She snapped her head away and pointed vaguely to the left side of the crowd.

A woman in a brown blazer took that as her cue. “How many tours will be held each day?”

“Once a day during the week, twice or three times on the weekend depending on the availability of airbenders,” Asami heard herself say. It was one of the questions Xing had prepared her for. She nodded towards a reporter in the front row, standing on Meelo’s left.

“How many spirits live in the wilds?”

Sarika leaned back towards the microphone. “That’s a question that Master Jinora can answer on the tour,” he said. The response was met with a few titters.

“What about squatters?” a voice shouted from the middle of the pack, not bothering to wait to be called on. Asami was hardly surprised; this press corps was notoriously rabid.

“It is only a positive that humans and spirits can live together,” she replied. “The spirit wilds offer shelter to those who need it—much more than the sewers ever could. And security shouldn’t be a concern; we’ve installed over forty new street lamps.” It was another practiced answer. Xing had been unsure how it would be received, but as he pointed out, Republic City had always had its share of homeless individuals. Not acknowledging or downplaying those squatting in the wilds would be much more of a risk, he seemed to feel.

Asami pointed to an elderly, bespectacled reporter. Her voice was surprisingly piercing. “Miss Sato, is this statue overcompensation on your part?”

Is it possible they know? Did Ginni tell someone? Asami felt as though she might be sick. Against her better judgement she looked back to where her former publicist had been standing. If Ginni had any part in this, it didn’t show. Even her usual smirk was gone, though she was scribbling something down in her notebook. Asami could feel Sarika looking at her, waiting for her answer. “I’m not quite sure what you mean,” she managed into the microphone.

“Well this statue was a gift from Future Industries,” another voice called out. “The boy said so in his speech.”

“Yes, I—I did,” Sarika said, looking confused. “But it was a joint concept.”

“So this has nothing to do with your father?” the elder woman tried.

The question made Asami’s heart skip a beat, though whether from relief or anxiety she couldn’t have said. She looked around the crowd again to see many nodding with interest. Pema was giving her a small smile, but she could see the worry behind her eyes. Raiko, on the other hand, was scowling. Asami leaned towards the microphone again. “Why would he have anything to do with th—”

She was cut off by several different reporters at once. “It was in the magazines!” “Do you agree that your leadership of Future Industries is the same as Hiroshi’s?” “What message do you think this sends to nonbenders?” “Does this mean the Avatar endorses Future Industries products?”

“I—I don’t understand,” Asami said. She looked towards Xing, but his face showed pure confusion.

“I think they’re referring to Minoru’s piece on you and Hiroshi that came out in this week’s issue of The United Republican ,” a familiar voice called. Asami saw that it belonged to Ela. “It was a follow-up to your cover feature.”

“It talked about my father?” she asked reflexively, the words hardly making sense to her. She felt Raiko’s eyes boring into her. If I don’t refocus this soon he’s going to want to end our contract even earlier.

More shouted out. “Are you a fan of Minoru’s writing?” “You never answered my first question!” “Does your father know about this park?” “Do you even read The United Republican ?”

No , Asami thought in response to the last question. However, she knew better than to admit that. The magazine was the most popular in the city, though there were times she suspected that was due to its satirical political cartoons. “I...read a variety of magazines...any that are put in front of me, or—or come my way,” she said awkwardly, hearing the idiocy in her own words. Asami looked back to Xing, who was now staring at his feet. How could he have not known about this? The sudden anger allowed her to find her voice again. “To be honest, I focus more on keeping up with the daily news, as well as technology-focused magazines. I’m afraid I can’t answer questions on Minoru’s piece until I’ve read it.” She hoped that would settle the matter.

“I have it here!” a ruddy-faced reporter called out. “I can read the passage in question.” Asami flicked her eyes to Sarika, who looked as if he had shrunken a foot since his speech.

She was about to tell the reporter that they should focus on the park instead when his voice boomed over the crowd once more. “Here, it’s from the end-section.” He cleared his throat. “‘It is clear that Miss Sato doesn’t hold her father’s Equalist sentiments, though a reporter more cynical than myself might suggest that the fifty-foot statue of the Avatar is a bit of overcompensation on her part. However, to say that she is markedly different from her father would be erroneous too. The young CEO is proof that the lychee doesn’t fall far from the tree.’” He looked up expectantly.

Before she could comment, Sarika jumped in. “Asa—Miss Sato suggested the statue at a meeting after needing to remind us...I mean me...that if not for Avatar Korra’s decision to open the portals we wouldn’t have the spirit wilds.”

Asami cringed at his words. Though he had meant well, all Sarika had done was let the press know that she was the one who was entirely responsible for the statue’s existence—from its conception to its construction. And he had very nearly dragged Raiko into it. “What Sarika means is that this entire park is meant to pay tribute to the new spiritual age. The statue came about naturally in the planning stages.” She glanced over at Xing, who was nodding long with her words. Without thinking, her eyes jumped back to where Ginni had been standing, but the publicist’s back was turned as she slipped in between two portly men and out of sight.

“But it was at your suggestion,” a voice called.

“Yes.” In the front row, Raiko’s grimace had deepened. She was sure that Jinora would be able to see a vein throbbing in his temple. “Are there other questions about the park?” she asked, carefully placing emphasis on her last two words.

“Can you comment on the topic of Minoru’s piece in general?” Ela asked hopefully. “It’s called ‘Sato’s Shadow.’”

 “I—” Asami was suddenly acutely aware of the statue behind her, its towering presence sending a chill up her spine. “I think the alliteration could use some work.” The crowd chuckled.

“Not to belabor the point, but do refute the claim this statue is overcompensation for your former Equalist ties?” the elderly reporter asked.

“We all felt this this was the right direction for the park,” Sarika said suddenly, his tone, uncharacteristically angry.

The mustachioed reporter yelled out, “Given The Avatar’s hands-off approach the past few years, wouldn’t a statue of Kuvira be more appropriate?”

The reaction was instantaneous. The press began murmuring wildly amongst themselves, with the exception of a few more reporters who tried their hands at calling out. “Does the Great Uniter have an opinion on the spirits?” “Does this mean that the Avatar will be returning soon?” “Has Prince Wu seen the park?” “Does Ba Sing Se have spirits?”

Asami felt dizzy. Sarika was calling for quiet into the microphone, though his voice sounded far away. She suddenly spotted Ginni once more. The publicist was now whispering into the ear of the ruddy-faced reporter who had read from the magazine. As if sensing her gaze, they both turned to look at her. The reporter raised his hand. Is it possible Ginni is trying to help? Or could this be some trap? Though the battle raged inside Asami’s head, some instinct made her point to him all the same.

“Well the statue being Avatar Korra makes sense to me,” he said, his booming voice quieting those around him.  “She’s the one who gave us the new spiritual age and that’s what this park is all about.” Asami saw a few reporters nodding at his words. He continued, “But what confuses me is why the airbenders are the tour guides. They’re not bridges to the spirits too, are they?”

Relief swept over Asami. “In a way, the new generation of airbenders share something in common with the spirits,” she said, trying not to sound too eager at the change of topic. “Without the opened spirit portals, neither group would be here. But Master Jinora will be able to specifically discuss the airbenders’ spiritual role on the tour.” She tried to look back at Ginni, but the publicist had vanished once more.

"And with that, perhaps we should get the tour started," a commanding voice said. Asami looked with surprise to see President Raiko climbing onto the stage. He walked up to Sarika and took the large pair of scissors out of his hand. Asami did her best not to let her surprise show as she and Sarika followed the President to the ribbon,  where they could line up for a photograph. She felt Raiko’s tension as she positioned herself next to him, though he managed a smile that looked genuine enough. If nothing else, the man was a practiced politician.

Once the cameras had finished flashing, it only took a few minutes for the press to line up behind Jinora. As she led the group towards the wilds, Asami was relieved to see that Pema, Rohan, and Meelo stayed behind. Xing had as well, along with a few members of the press corp. To Asami’s disappointment, Ginni was nowhere to be seen; Asami had wanted to thank her. It’s probably for the best that I don’t .

Raiko turned towards Sarika and Asami, his anger obvious. Still, he kept his voice low in case a few of the straggling reporters were listening. “That was a disaster.” He fixed his gaze on Sarika. “It was bad enough watching you choke through a planned speech, but you let that press control you. And you made it sound as if I had forgotten about where the spirits came from. Do you think that’s going to look good come election time?”

Sarika seemed to be retreating into his own shoulders like a scared turtle duck. “I don’t—I didn’t...”

“It was my fault, Mr. President,” Asami offered. “I didn’t know about Minoru’s article, and I was unprepared to field those questions.”

“Miss Sato, I respect you and the work you do,” Raiko began, “but I can’t have the careless way you handle your press briefings negatively impact my office.”

I’ve saved you with press conferences before, she thought angrily. It’s your office that tried to hide from negative public opinion...that tried to hide from the wilds. Instead she took a breath. “I’m not pleased either. I just hired a new publicist and it seems there’s more of a learning curve than I anticipated. It won’t happen again.”

“No,” the President agreed, “it won’t. The next time we have something like this, it’s just going to be me doing the talking. No open question-and-answer sessions. If reporters want quotes, they can approach us individually like the good old days.” Asami had no idea what “days” he was possibly referring to, but she felt it best not to point that out. “And you,” Raiko turned to Sarika once more. “I don’t want you in front of the press ever again.” 

It was hard to tell if Sarika was upset or relieved to hear that. “No sir, of course not sir,” he answered, looking at his shoes.

“Mr. President,” Asami said, “I think this will still be good press. I have no doubt that Jinora’s tour will go well, and I doubt there’s anyone who’s going to write a piece arguing that the statue shouldn’t be here.” Despite her still being at the South Pole, Korra’s approval rating was as high as ever. Even a press corps as cynical as this one wouldn’t dare write a take-down piece on her while she still was recovering.

“You’re probably right,” the President agreed, “but it shouldn’t even be in question.” With that, Raiko turned on his heel and walked away, though it was clear he didn’t have anywhere else to be. He awkwardly headed over to where Pema was standing and struck up a conversation. Asami wondered which party was unhappier with the new arrangement.

“Thanks,” Sarika said quietly.

“For what?”

“Defending me to Raiko.”

“It was all my fault, Sarika,” Asami said. “You did well. I was the one who was rattled.”

He shook his head. “They shouldn’t have brought up that article. It seemed like they just wanted to smear your name. Even Minoru himself didn’t accuse you.”

“I think they just don’t have much to go off of with me,” she answered. “But Minoru knew exactly what he was doing when he wrote that sentence.” Ginni had taught Asami that much. Even when reporters didn’t say something, they were saying something. She looked away from the stage where Xing was waiting for her. She could see a magazine in his hands. “I need to talk to my publicist about this.”

Sarika nodded. “Hey, when you’re done maybe we should go to Capital’s for a round of sake. We could both use it after today.”

Asami started at his words. Is this his way of asking me out? She felt her throat tighten. No, not Sarika. Please . Though the planner had never been subtle in his awkward interest, he had never seemed willing to cross that line with her. She couldn’t have that change now, not after Ginni...not after the letter. “No! I mean, I—we shouldn’t.” We can’t .

Sarika’s eyes grew wide. “No, no I didn’t mean—”

“I need to talk to my publicist,” she repeated, cutting him off. As she turned to walk away she could hear him calling her name, but she didn’t dare face him again. He probably didn’t mean that , she thought, suddenly angry with herself.

Xing met her halfway. “It’s not a take-down piece,” he said before she got a word out. Asami folded her arms and said nothing. He flipped open the magazine in his hands. “Minoru is simply building off of the details from your cover feature. He talks about how your approach to business is innovative and employee focused, as your father’s was too. If anything he took a risk writing it by being so positive towards Hiroshi.”

That was the last thing Asami wanted to hear. “And how did I not know about this?”

Xing looked away. “I’m sorry. I was keeping in touch with The United Republican to monitor if they were getting any ‘letters to the editor’ in response to your cover. It didn’t occur to me to check on their full features.”

“And the editor you were in touch with didn’t think to give you a heads up?”

“I barely know her, and the last time I checked in was a week ago,” Xing admitted. “I know I messed up, but I’m new to this town and this press. It will take me a little to build the rapport I need to do this job perfectly.”

At that moment, a cloud shifted in the sky and the sun burst forth. Xing and Asami were both covered by the shadow of the statue. She looked towards it, feeling her anger drain away. After a moment she turned back towards her publicist. “I know. Just, the next time I have a speaking engagement, make sure to check in with the major publications a day or two ahead of time, not a week.”

“I will,” he promised. He thrust the magazine towards her. “You should read this though. The press seems to want to use it at any rate, maybe even to try and get you talking about your time fighting alongside the Avatar.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she said, taking the issue hesitantly.

Xing shrugged. “I don’t think it needs to. But you should expect questions all the same.”

Asami held up the magazine. “It’s really not negative press?”

“Of course not. Equalist or no, your father was a great businessman. There’s far worse people to be compared to.”

Chapter Text

There was only one map on the table. When Asami had first arrived at the small meeting room inside of City Hall, she was sure Sarika had left some scrolls in his office. She was quickly proven wrong. The city planner hadn’t stood when she entered the room, instead only offering a small smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes. “There isn’t much for us to work on today. Kuvira’s team just completed the tunnel through The Great Divide. All we need to do is look at the routes for the Republic’s accompanying tracks and double check our train scheduling.”

Asami had lowered herself into the chair next to him, and immediately began focusing on the work. For the past couple of months, things between them had seemed more professional to her. Even their moments of small-talk felt a bit impersonal. Though if Sarika had noticed this shift, he never gave any indication. It was enough to make Asami wonder if it was all in her head.

She considered him a few times throughout the meeting: his body bent low over the papers, his glasses creeping down his nose ever so slightly before he’d realize and push them back into place. She found herself wanting to reach out to him...to break the silence, to talk about something real. But that was a risk she was unwilling to take again, so instead Asami would force her attention back to the task at hand.

Sarika had been right that there was little to be done. Now that most of the bridges and tunnels along the tracks in the United Republic were completed, there wasn’t much of a structural challenge to figuring out how the Earth Kingdom’s lines could meet up with them. And though the time tables were complicated, they had already been meticulously plotted out over the course of several meetings. Running the calculations again simply supported what had already been decided.

Once it was obvious their work for the day was done, Sarika leaned back in his chair while Asami stood and rolled up the map. “Did you see the papers this morning?” he asked. “Seventy-five percent stabilized.”

Asami placed the coiled map back on the table and turned towards the planner. “I saw Kuvira’s picture on the front page, but didn’t have a chance to read it yet.”

Sarika clasped his hands behind his head. “I’m surprised her supporters didn’t accost you with the good news on your way in.” 

As of late, fans of the “Great Uniter” had taken to gathering in groups outside of prominent buildings to proselytize her campaign. It was nothing new for Republic City; as long as Asami could remember, there was always someone with a megaphone to be found on the streets...and always a willing crowd to take in the speeches. Is that how my father learned of the Equalists? Or was he a founding member?

“I managed to get in unscathed today,” she answered, pushing the dark thought from her mind as she made herself smile. “Though most days make me consider bringing my glove with me.”

He broke his hands apart and looked up innocently. “Your glove?”

Asami felt heat rising to her face. She straightened her vest before answering. “My—my electrified glove. That’s what I’ve used when I’ve needed to fight.”

“For Team Avatar?” Sarika’s eyes were wide.

She nodded and looked away. “Of course I can only imagine the features magazines would run if I started wearing it around,” she said, hoping the joke would end the conversation.

“Asami Sat-glow! The shocking truth about the Future Industries CEO,” he quipped. When Asami met his eyes again, he flushed. “Well, that’s what their headlines always sound like to me.” 

She didn't need to fake smile at that. “You should have considered a career as a journalist," she said with a laugh.

Sarika looked pleased with himself. “Maybe I still can. I’m going to have a lot more time on my hands soon.”

“What do you mean?” 

He rose and swept the map off the table, where he tucked it under his arm. “I mean this track work is nearly done. And the renovations to the station should be completed in a couple of months.” Sarika pushed his chair into the table and turned so they were square with one another. “I'm sure Raiko will still have something for me to do, but you and I probably only have a handful of meetings left.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach. Asami studied his face, suddenly realizing that she had been looking at it every week for nearly the past three years. “I’m—I’m sure we’ll still see each other around,” she managed, taking a step back.

“I’m sure of that too,” he said in a low voice.

For a moment, Asami considered inviting him to lunch, but before she could he gestured towards the door. The pair walked out of the room and exchanged their perfunctory goodbyes. As Asami headed down the steps of City Hall, the sunlight streaming onto her face, she couldn’t decide if she was relieved.

She had only walked a few feet when a familiar voice called out, “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite partner.”

Asami turned to see Pukiq walking towards her. “I suppose I should say the same.” He laughed at that. Though Asami was never going to be Pukiq’s biggest fan, she had at least learned enough about his sense of humor to know what she could get away with. “Are you headed into City Hall? You’re in luck; no Kuvira supporters are here today.”

“Koala sheep, the lot of them,” Pukiq dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Still, I’ll take them over those Prince Fu fans.”

“Prince Wu ,” Asami corrected.

“Whatever. Now that people realize he’s going to be sitting on the throne soon, they’ve been flocking around everywhere he goes. I got stuck in traffic the other day for a good twenty minutes because the kid was making a show of getting into his limousine.” He folded his arms. “I’m sure not going to miss this place for the next couple of months.”

“What do you mean? Are you going somewhere?”

Pukiq flashed a grin that almost looked genuine. “Well, it just so happens that a certain partner of mine has been cleaning up in the Earth Kingdom with sales lately. I’ve got a major shipment set for Gaoling. But I’m going too.” He dropped his voice before continuing. “Apparently there’s a decent amount of ore there just begging to be sold to the Fire Nation. The least I can do is offer my services.”

“Isn’t Gaoling in one of the stabilized regions though?” Asami asked. “Their resources don’t need to go towards Kuvira’s campaign?”

Pukiq’s expression hardened, his eyes suddenly looking as cold as Lekh’s. “A surplus is a surplus. But let’s keep this discussion between us, eh?”

“Of course.” If this goes south, I may need to find a new shipping partner. “Should I work with your COO while you’re gone then?” 

His face relaxed again. “Yeah, Arrluk can handle it. And I’m sure I’ll be back before you know it.”

Asami bit back a sarcastic retort. “Well,” she offered instead, “it sounds like you’ve got a lot going on. Don’t let me keep you from...your meeting?”

“The bureaucracy,” Pukiq corrected, rolling his eyes. “Gotta renew the business permit before I leave. I’ll see you around, then.”

“Save travels,” she said. Pukiq inclined his head and strode past Asami, into City Hall.

At least I get a few months off from dealing with him, Asami thought. Arrluk was every bit as capable of arranging orders as Pukiq, and yet also managed to be polite in all of their meetings. Ginni often joked that Asami should have written a clause into the contract that made Arrluk the only person in North Seas Shipping who was allowed to talk to her. Asami could almost see Ginni’s look of amusement at the news that Pukiq would be away for two months. Though instead of feeling that amusement herself, the thought of her former publicist filled Asami with a sudden emptiness.

She found her feet leading her towards the Police Headquarters. It wasn’t until she was nearly at the door that she stopped to question it. Mako would be uncomfortable with an unannounced visit, but it had been so long since they had seen each other last. If I keep the conversation short casual, he can’t be too annoyed , Asami decided, and continued into the building’s foyer. Just a quick pop-in to see if he’s free for lunch . His first instinct likely would be to decline, she knew, but he would probably be willing to set something up for later in the week.

Asami pushed the double doors open to police common room and was surprised to see Lin standing only a few feet away. She was leaning over a nearby desk, where she appeared to be reprimanding an officer. When she spotted Asami, she straightened up and folded her arms. “Hey kid. What are you doing here?”

The officer awkwardly shuffled the papers on her desk, looking downcast. “Sorry,” Asami said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

Lin gave an impatient wave of her hand. “It’s fine. You need something for the President?”

“No, actually, I just wanted to quickly talk to Mako.” She looked around the room, but saw no sign of her friend amid the harried-looking cops. Only a few even seemed to take notice of her.

“Mako?” Lin raised an eyebrow. “He wasn’t at the Four Elements?”

“Do you mean the hotel?”

“With the Prince.”

“The prince?” Asami repeated, bemused.

Lin sighed and pinched her eyes before responding. “He didn’t tell you, did he? Well I’m not surprised; he wasn’t too happy.”

“Tell me what?” She asked, beginning to feel foolish.

“Mako was reassigned a few months ago. He’s working as Prince Wu’s bodyguard for now.”

“Oh,” Asami said, unsure what else to say. But he was so proud of his detective position . “So...no case work for him then?”

“It’s not my call,” Lin said with a shrug. “Apparently the kid read about Mako in the papers and requested him. And then Raiko insisted on it.”

“Of course he did.” Asami rolled her eyes. Here’s betting he’ll tout his diplomatic successes on the next campaign .

Lin almost smiled at that. Asami had the sneaking suspicion that she and the police chief shared similar views on the President. “Well look, you can tell Mako I told you,” Lin offered. “But I wouldn’t go calling on him when he’s with the Prince.”

No, Asami thought. If he was too embarrassed to tell me, he wouldn’t like me showing up at the hotel any better. “I won't. Thank you, Chief.” 

She nodded her head at that. “Take it easy.” Asami turned towards the door when Lin’s voice rang out once again. “Oh, and nice work on the infrastructure. I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Oh...thank you,” she said awkwardly, unsure if she had ever heard Lin Beifong give a compliment before. The metalbender simply grunted in response, and turned her attention back to the officer behind the desk. Asami took that as her cue to leave.

As soon as she was back outside the building, the empty feeling crept over her once more. She considered stopping by the hotel to leave a message for Mako with reception, but decided against it in the off-chance that she ran into him in the lobby. I could always stop by his apartment tonight , Asami thought. But it was Mako who had chosen not to tell her about his new assignment. This will need to be on his terms , she concluded miserably, heading towards her Satomobile. And  that probably means I’ll be waiting for a while.

The hollow feeling had not worn off by the time Asami pulled up to Future Industries Tower. As she rode the elevator up to her office, she tried to distract herself, thinking over her schedule for the rest of the day. Katsu was supposed to radio in after lunch to update Asami on how his sales calls in the northern Earth Kingdom were going, and she had a meeting scheduled with Xing for the hour following. But other than that, the day was hers. She had purposely blocked off time to review Shoji’s quarterly fiscal report, as well as to do some shop-work.

Normally such a day would be ideal for Asami, but for once she found herself wishing she had more meetings...or that her time with Sarika had at least been extended. Or that it’s Ginni, not Xing that I’m to meet with . Though her current publicist had made a few minor mistakes in the beginning, Xing was quickly proving himself to be perfectly adequate in his role. Asami found that oddly vexing.

Only the week prior, Xing had told her about a couple of choice billboard spots he had managed to secure. Though it was undeniably good news for Future Industries, Asami couldn’t quite bring herself to be happy about it. We’ll be using the ‘women in the sciences’ ad Ginni designed , she had thought to herself, wondering if it entirely fair of him to sound so proud of himself when much of the advertising work had already been completed. Yet as soon as their meeting had concluded, Asami was left wondering if she was being too hard on Xing for no real reason.

The elevator opened to reveal Anju’s empty desk; the secretary was most likely taking her lunch break. It was then that Asami realized just how quiet her office floor was. For a moment, she found herself almost jealous of the product development and materials engineers a few stories below, undoubtedly shouting jokes to one another over the noise of the machines.

She shook her head and continued into her personal office, where she sat down at her desk. A stack of papers looked back up at her, the fiscal report on top. Asami could think of nothing she wanted to read less. Instead, she shoved her chair away and stood back up again, pacing the room. I should have scheduled Tej today . Since her injury, her trainer had been adamant about only having sessions every other day. Yet even after half a year of this, Asami still found their days off irksome.

She considered walking down the flight of steps to her workshop when a newspaper on an end table caught her eye.  On the front page was a picture of Prince Wu. She picked it up, wondering how many days old it was, but as she unfolded it to get her answer, another picture jumped out at her: Tenzin shaking hands with Fire Lord Izumi. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him, Asami realized. Pema and the children too. She looked out the open doorway, eyeing the phone sitting on Anju’s desk. I shouldn’t bother them; I’m sure they have their hands full. But after a few more moments of silent debate, she threw the newspaper back down and went to make the call. 

As it turned out, Pema wasn’t bothered at all. Instead, she had invited Asami over for dinner that night within the first two minutes of their conversation. Asami felt slightly embarrassed as she drove her motorboat towards Air Temple Island, wondering if she had sounded that transparently lonely on the phone. Yet that feeling quickly evaporated upon entering the dining hall, where both Ikki and Meelo rushed to hug her before she had managed five steps.

“My wingsuit ripped!” Meelo exclaimed proudly when they broke away.

“What?” Asami looked down at the beaming eight-year-old.

“Meelo! Don’t say it like that!” his sister chided. “You mean you ripped it!”

“No suit can handle all this,” he replied, flexing.

“Not if you keep climbing trees in it while ignoring the branches,” said an even voice. Asami looked up to see Pema. The two women quickly embraced. “I’m glad you could make it. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Asami answered. Pema said nothing, but furrowed her brow skeptically. “How are things here?” Asami tried, hoping to change the subject.

“Quiet, actually.” Pema gestured towards a table in the corner where Jinora and Tenzin were sitting, deep in conversation. “Most of the airbenders are in the field right now. Come on, kids,” she said to Ikki and Meelo, the latter of whom had been surreptitiously trying to kick his sister. They ran for the table, where they slid into the seats on the end.

As Asami approached, Jinora and Tenzin looked up. “Asami,” he said, nodding. “I hope you’re doing well.” Rohan sat on his lap, a spoon in hand.

“It’s great to see you,” Jinora said.

“It’s good to see you too,” she answered, rounding the table to sit on one of the free cushions. “And Rohan, how are you?”

The toddler gave a sullen look back, before reaching down and slamming his spoon-free hand onto a plate of mashed turnips. White chunks went flying everywhere, a few landing in Tenzin’s beard. “If he’s going to do that, he can sit on his own cushion,” Pema said, sliding into a seat of her own.

“It’s fine; it’s a special occasion,” Tenzin said, restraining Rohan’s arm with one hand as he attempted to clean his beard with the other. “Sorry about that,” he directed towards Asami. “He’s still a bit uncommunicative.”

“Can we eat Dad?” Meelo asked, reaching for a plate before his father could give the answer.

“Yes, that’s fine,” he said irritably. “Tell us how you are, Asami.”

“We saw you in the paper last week!” Ikki exclaimed.

“It was two weeks ago, Ikki,” Jinora corrected. “Something about the Northern Water Tribe?”

“Yes,” Asami said, pouring herself some tea. “My sales director took a trip there to sell the new Satomobile line, but somehow in the process negotiated a contract for the retrofitting of their snowmobile engines. I was thinking of also—” she was cut off by the sudden sensation of something brushing up against her leg. She barely looked down in time to see a flash of red. “Pabu?”

She heard the familiar sound of the fire ferret in response. Jinora reached under the table and scooped him up, placing him instead down next to her cushion. “He just wants food,” she said calmly.

“I want him to sit next to me!” Ikki insisted.

“Pabu’s fine where he is,” Pema said in a firm voice.

Tenzin frowned. “He shouldn’t even be in here at all.”

“But it’s just us,” Meelo said with a mouth full of rice. “The acolytes already ate.”

“That reminds me, did Otaku get back from the tours yet today?” Tenzin asked Jinora.

She nodded. “About an hour ago. He and Ryu already went to their dormitory.”

“Are the tours going well?” Asami asked, taking a sip of her tea. “I’ll admit, I haven’t been able to go on one myself.”

“Quite well,” Tenzin answered. “They’re a great—no Rohan, use your spoon—a great way for the airbenders to rest when they return from their travels. And a good way to occupy those who aren’t quite ready for the field.”

“When can I lead a tour?” Meelo asked. “I would show everyone the real spirit wilds.”

Jinora sighed. “You never pay attention when we try to teach you about them.”

“Well I know all about them but I can’t lead one,” Ikki said.

“Maybe in a few years,” Pema said, smiling in Asami’s direction.

“But Akane is already giving tours, and she’s only been here one year!” Ikki pressed.

Tenzin frowned. “Akane is fourteen, the same age as Jinora and Kai. We don’t want anyone younger than that leading a group through the wilds.”

“Kai gives the best tours!” Meelo said. “He always makes jokes.”

“You just say that because he’s the only one who lets you go on them with him,” Jinora pointed out.

“Are he and Opal still traveling together?” Asami asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “They’re hardly ever here. They’ve been trying to make it to every single village in the unstabilized states.”

“Most of our airbenders have been keeping busy,” Tenzin said. “Even the areas Kuvira brought into the fold still need help sowing crops, rebuilding roads, and damming rivers. We just try to keep them safe along the way, and help where we can.”

“But the papers today said that three-quarters of Earth Kingdom is stabilized now,” Asami said. “There’s still that much need for your aid?”

Tenzin frowned. “Kuvira can’t be everywhere at once, I’m afraid. But fortunately reports of bandits are growing fewer and farther between.”

Rohan began laughing at that, though Asami couldn’t have said what he possibly found funny. His father sighed and lifted him off his lap, plopping him down onto a cushion in between himself and Pema. She put a hand on the toddler's head, which seemed to quiet him.

“Even without bandits, towns still need a lot of help...the ones in the stabilized states too,” Jinora continued, as if there had been no interruption. “Most citizens go to work for the campaign, so anything that needs to be done within each village falls on the weak and elderly.”

Opal’s words of warning about the young and healthy being dragged off suddenly rang in Asami’s ears. “Kuvira is able to get that many volunteers for her army?” she asked, skeptically.

“I think there are many who want to see this chapter for the Earth Kingdom come to an end,” Tenzin replied.

Asami paused as she thought how to word her next question. “So what Opal was saying a few months ago...about forced labor...”

“It sounds like she was describing conscription. If Kuvira feels she needs the workers, I’m sure it’s for a good reason.”

Yet you were against conscription when it was the airbenders that were in question , Asami thought, though she held her tongue. “I’m sure it is too,” she offered instead. “I’m guessing Opal’s report about the dissenters being taken away was unconfirmed as well?”

Tenzin and Pema exchanged a look, but said nothing. Instead, Jinora broke the silence. “We aren’t sure.” She pushed a steamed bun around her plate uncomfortably.

Her father nodded. “We’re trying to get to the bottom of it. It’s just...”

“Daw found a prison,” Ikki said bluntly.

“A prison?” Asami looked around the table. “For dissenters?”

“We don’t know,” Tenzin said.

“Daw and Yung were out together,” Jinora began. “They were supposed to be checking in on the villages near Ba Sing Se...we wanted to give them an easier assignment. But their bison lost her direction, and they ended up stumbling on a prison in the mountains.” She looked towards her father, who nodded slowly.

“The truth is, we don’t know what it’s for,” he said. “We just know that when Daw and Yung tried to ask the guards in charge, they were told to leave.”

Pema was frowning. “What would anyone have to hide from the Air Nation?” she asked. “We serve every nation. It’s suspicious, Tenzin.”

“We’re looking into it,” he replied. “Just because we offer aid doesn’t mean we can pry into internal state affairs.”

“They weren’t prying, Dad,” Jinora said. “Daw isn’t like that. They were told to leave after asking a simple question.”

“All the reports in the paper about the campaign are very encouraging. We have no reason to think the worst.” Tenzin took a sip of tea before continuing. “Besides, in a few months, Kuvira will be stepping down.”

“Just a few months?” Asami said, surprised.

He nodded. “Yes, in fact, Prince Wu’s coronation has been scheduled. I had a meeting with Raiko a few days ago, though it won’t be officially announced until next week. We expect the Earth Kingdom to be mostly stabilized by then. The official monarch taking office may be what’s needed for the states that are holding out.”

“Will Kuvira’s troops be returning home after that?” Asami asked, thinking of Bolin. “It sounds like that might solve a lot of the issues Earth Kingdom towns are still facing.”

“We don’t know for sure what military need there will be three months from now," Tenzin answered.

“Though Kuvira and her officers will certainly be here for the ceremony,” Pema said, as if reading Asami’s mind. “In fact, all the world leaders will be coming in.” She gave her husband a knowing look.

He smiled slightly before speaking. “Yes, actually, I’ve just heard from Chief Tonraq. He and Korra will be coming to the city a few days beforehand.”

Asami didn’t remember what words she spoke in response. But what she did remember was smiling along with everyone at the table, and for the first time in too long, smiling without worrying about how it would be read. What did she care that she’d have to spend the rest of her night finishing Shoji’s fiscal report or that she’d be in the shop the entire next day redesigning an intake valve for a snowmobile engine? Or that Mako was keeping his secrets and Sarika, his distance? In three months, none of it would matter. Asami could wait three months.

Chapter Text

For the first time since she had become CEO of Future Industries, Asami Sato had not needed to force a smile for the cameras.

The ribbon-cutting ceremony was much like any other: a trite speech, the dogged reporters, “up-and-comers” to meet. But Asami had never found herself more content to listen to Raiko’s political prose as she had stood next to him, silently holding a pair of golden scissors. Even his ham-fisted nod towards the Prince of the Earth Kingdom hadn’t yielded an eye-roll from her.

Asami had no reason to complain, after all; Raiko’s mention of Future Industries had been far more glowing than Xing had demanded. She and her publicist had gone over that at their meeting with the President only the day before.

“I was concerned with the direction the ceremony for Avatar Korra Park took,” Raiko had said. “For that reason, I’ll be the only one speaking tomorrow,”

“Then Miss Sato cuts the ribbon,” Xing responded, with barely any hesitation.

 The President had furrowed his brow at that. “This marks the end to Republic City’s rebuilding efforts. It’s the shining achievement of my office.”

“Mr. President, with all due respect, no one is likely to forget that,” the publicist had insisted. “But we both know without Miss Sato, this ceremony would not be taking place. If you’re not going to let her talk, the least you can do is allow her to cut the ribbon. You’ll still be in the pictures.” Raiko had only begun to nod when Xing quickly added, “And we’ll need you to mention Future Industries. That’s who’s to thank.”

“Very well,” Raiko agreed. 

“You should thank Sarika too,” Asami had pointed out. “He deserves just as much credit.” She had already been feeling uncomfortable when Raiko mentioned his plan to exclude the city planner from the stage.

She could still picture the way the President's eyes had narrowed. “Sarika is a government employee. His work is credited to my office.” 

Asami had spent some time after the meeting worrying if Raiko was angry with her, but it was all assuaged at the ceremony, when he had given her his “biggest thanks.” And if Sarika was feeling slighted at all, he hadn’t shown it. Asami spotted him clapping dutifully from his place in the crowd. When he felt her eyes, he had offered a smile.

Though it wasn’t until after she had been approached by several reporters, Wu, and finally Mako, that Asami finally had time to talk to Sarika, with Mako’s words “Korra is getting in tonight” still ringing in her ears. The city planner was looking sheepishly in Raiko’s direction when she approached him. “You may be waiting a while; Tenzin can be long winded,” she offered, nodding towards the steps where the two men were engaging Wu in conversation. Lin and Mako stood a few feet away from them, surveying the square.

“So I’ve learned,” Sarika said, smiling. “That went really well, I thought!”

“I missed you up there.” Asami rested a hand on her hip.

“I didn’t.”

She laughed, surprised at how easily it came. “Well I hope you at least took the time to appreciate our handiwork. A few months ago I didn’t think we’d ever see the end to these renovations.”

“It did turn out well,” Sarika said, glancing back towards the station. “But it hasn’t hit me that it’s all over yet.”

“Me either,” she agreed. Just behind him, she noticed a pack of reporters breaking up. In the middle she spotted Ginni, talking to a man holding a camera. Asami’s stomach gave a lurch. I could say ‘hello,’ she thought. It would be the right thing to do.

“The weirdest part is going to be not having meetings with you,” Sarika was saying. Asami snapped her eyes back and met his gaze. “I’ll miss it.”

“Then let’s fix that,” she said, an odd boldness coming over her. “We both can take lunch breaks. Let’s try to meet at Capital’s a few times a month.” His eyebrows rose in surprise. “I like to get out the tower anyway,” she added, so he wouldn’t misunderstand her intention.

He smiled. “I’d like that. Though we won’t be able to charge them as business lunches anymore, sadly.”

Asami waved her hand. “I can cover them.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cameraman walk away from Ginni. “I need to check with Anju about my schedule, but once I get back to my office today I’ll set something up for next week.”

“Well, you know where I work,” Sarika said.

Asami ignored the awkward joke, her eyes fixed on her former publicist’s movements. “Great, if you’ll excuse me...” She walked away, towards Ginni, and called her name.

Ginni turned quickly. When she saw who it was, the smile on her face faltered slightly. “Miss Sato,” she replied. Her tone was cool, but the corner of her mouth was twitching.

“I—how are you?” Asami asked, beginning to regret her decision.

“Just peachy.”

“I saw the piece in the papers last week,” she tried folding her arms, “about Ojas implementing a supplier code of ethics. I’m assuming that was your doing?”

“Well you know how strongly I feel about proper supply chain management,” Ginni responded dryly.

Asami had the distinct impression Ginni was enjoying herself. “He came off well,” she offered. “It was a good read.”

“Ela writes well.” Ginni gave Asami a shrewd look. After a moment she pulled her eyes away and gestured towards the station. “I suppose I should be congratulating you. Though the ceremony was an interesting call.”

“What do you mean?”

“You let Raiko silence you.”

“He insisted on that,” Asami explained. “The press conference for Av—for the park didn’t go smoothly.”

Ginni nodded, “...which is why it was important for you to have a strong public statement at this one,” she finished.

“I don’t think that matters. Raiko structured it so that reporters could come up to us afterwards. There will still be plenty of quotes from me in the papers.”

“Yeah, but this marked the end of your contract’s close. You needed to look in charge of the direction for Future Industries; not just react to it. Did you at least spin questions to work in comments about your upcoming plans?”

Asami shook her head. “The questions were too narrow, but I think it’s okay for the focus to be on the station and the connectivity with the Earth Kingdom. The coronation next week is overshadowing everything else in the news anyway. It’s better to keep Raiko happy now, and then if we need to, release new ads in a couple of weeks.”

An odd expression flickered across Ginni’s face. “Well it sounds like Xing is working out for you.”

The words were jarring. It was almost as if Asami had forgotten for a moment. She was spared the necessity of responding by the sound of someone calling her name. Both she and the publicist turned to see Pema approaching, holding hands with Rohan and moving as fast as the toddler’s pace would allow. Asami looked back towards Ginni, “I...”

“Go, talk to them,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’m sure I’ll see you around somewhere.” She gave a small smile that almost looked genuine.

Asami inclined her head, then turned and walked towards Pema. “I’m glad you were able to make it,” she said, greeting her warmly. She then crouched down. “And Rohan, I’m sure that was thrilling for you.” The child leaned back against Pema’s leg, still holding her hand. He gave what might have been a bashful smile, but no reply. Asami stood again.

“He might be a little tired,” Pema said apologetically. “He’s recently stopped taking naps, but I’m wondering if we’re weaning him off them too early.”

Asami could think of nothing to say to that. “Tenzin is still busy with the prince, it looks like,” she tried, nodding towards the steps where the two men were talking. Mako was still only a few feet away, but both Lin and Raiko seemed to have left.

“Oh I’m sure they’re winding down. He’s invited to the dinner tonight anyway.”

“At least that means Mako will be there too,” Asami offered. “Korra will want to see him.” She could feel the heat rising to her face just from saying the name.

Pema gave a knowing smile. “That can’t be his favorite job.”

“Mako’s taking it in stride. He knows it will be over soon.” Asami looked towards her friend again. It was difficult to tell who looked more rigid: Mako, or the pillar next to him.

“Well, just be sure to come early. I don’t want to be entertaining Raiko and Wu on my own.”

Asami laughed. “I will, I promise. Where are Jinora, Ikki, and Meelo?”

Pema sighed and looked over her shoulder, towards the statue of Lord Zuko. Asami followed her gaze and saw Jinora sitting on the marble lip, reading, while her brother and sister chased each other around the base.

“Maybe they’ll tire themselves out enough to be on their best behavior tonight,” suggested Asami.

“Oh I doubt that,” Pema said. “I’m sure their excitement to see Korra will overshadow everything else today.”

“I assure you, your daughter is not here.”

Tenzin’s words echoed in Asami’s ears, hardly making sense. She could see Wu looking around in confusion from her periphery, but remained focused on the Water Tribe Chief. Korra’s written him letters?

“Then where is she?” Tonraq asked. He looked from Tenzin to the rest of the group on the dock. His gaze seemed to linger on her, until she dropped her eyes to the polar bear dog, still on its back. If she’s written letters, then that means she’s okay, Asami thought. She heard Lin curse under her breath.

It didn’t make any sense. Asami could feel her palms sweating. Instinctively, she looked towards Mako. He met her eyes and shook his head, wordlessly. Beyond him, she could see Raiko’s frown deepening, as Buttercup moved to clutch his arm.

It was Lin who broke the silence. “When was your last letter from her?” she asked, approaching Tonraq.

He folded his arms. “I’m not sure. A month ago? She said everything was going well.”

“Wait, Mako, I’m confused,” Wu suddenly said. “Is The Avatar hiding from her dad?”

“Well do you have it with you? Maybe we can figure out where it was mailed from,” Lin continued.

Mako was looking down at the Prince irritably. “I don’t know. I guess she didn’t want him to worry.”

'Sometimes I worry I’ll never fully recover,’ Asami suddenly thought. There was a metallic taste in her mouth that she tried to ignore.

“I didn’t bring it with me,” Tonraq replied.

"Wait, does this mean Korra’s lying?" Ikki said, pulling herself away from Naga to face her mother. Pema’s hand was still clasped to her mouth.

“Do we have any way of knowing if she’ll be back in time for the coronation ceremony?” Raiko asked.

Wu grabbed Mako’s arm. “But she didn’t write to the airbenders so they wouldn’t worry.”

“Haven’t you heard anything? My daughter’s missing!” Tonraq said, angrily looking in The President’s direction.

“She’s not lying; she’s on an adventure!” Meelo shouted. Naga began to whine.

Tenzin stroked his beard. “We can worry about the ceremony later. This comes first.”

“We didn’t even know she had left the South Pole.” Mako was sounding irritable, as he pulled his sleeve away from Wu.

'I wrote to you and not them,’ Asami thought. The words seemed empty now. She suddenly felt as though it were hard to breathe. She let the scene wash over her, unable to process.

“If you could only remember some detail about the envelope. Try and think.”

“Kids, come on, let’s go inside.”

“It’s not an adventure, Meelo. This is serious.”

“We’ll have to discuss this tomorrow.”

She’s been writing to Tonraq. She knows what she’s doing.

“Do you think this has anything to do with the bandits that are still out there? What if she’s hiding because she knows it’s still unsafe? What’s going to happen when I take the throne?”

“But she’ll be fine! It’s Korra, she has to be fine!”

“I can’t. I didn’t look closely.”

“Perhaps we should let them handle this, dear.”

That means she could have written me.

“What? This has nothing to do with your throne!”

“Ikki, Meelo, we’re going inside.”

“Kuvira’s troops will be too preoccupied to handle a missing person’s report.”

“Is she boycotting my coronation then? It’s the Avatar, Mako.”

She’s missing; how selfish can you be?

“We could contact the local governors. And I’ll let my airbenders know.”

“Why does Jinora get to stay?!”

“Dear, it really seems like we’d be better off...”

“We’ll have to wait until after the ceremony to do that. We don’t want anyone to worry.”

What matters is her safety.

“No one’s boycotting your coronation!”

“Asami, are you okay?”

“We should be worried that she’s missing. Where is she?”

If she’s able to write, that means she’s okay.

“Asami!” Pema placed a hand on her shoulder. Asami jumped at the sudden contact, shaking her head slightly before meeting Pema’s worried gaze.

“Sorry. What?” she asked. Her throat was tight.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, reflexively. Jinora, Ikki, and Meelo were looking up at her. “Fine,” she repeated. She took a breath, which seemed to clear her head.

“I’m going to take these two inside,” Pema said, removing her hand and placing it instead on her son’s head. “Do you want to come? Maybe...get away?”

Asami shook her head. “I’ll be fine.” 

“It’s no fair! Why can’t we at least stay and play with Naga?” Ikki put her hands on her hips.

Her mother sighed. “It is fair, Ikki. Naga will still be here tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to play fetch with our suits!” Meelo said, bouncing onto his toes.

Pema steered ushered them forward. As she passed Asami, she lightly touched her forearm. “We’ll find her. The airbenders are everywhere.”

Asami made herself smile. “I’m sure of that.”

“I’m not so sure,” Jinora said, as soon as Pema was out of earshot. Asami turned to look down at her. The airbender’s face was solemn. “If Korra lied to her father, that means she doesn’t want to be found.”

“I know.”

“Dad said that she seemed eager to come back.” Jinora shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

Asami folded her arms. “I’m not sure I do either,” she said slowly. “But we know she wasn’t one hundred percent.”

“Then why would she want to hide? Gran Gran was helping her get better.”

“I don’t know,” Asami said, sharper than she intended. To her disgust, she felt angry tears forming in her eyes. She blinked away from Jinora, looking towards Mako and Wu. The firebender’s fists were now firmly curled into balls, though Wu seemed to be prattling on without noticing. She swallowed. “All we know is that this is what she wants.”

“I’m worried about her,” Jinora said softly.

The words “me too” stuck in Asami’s throat. Mako suddenly looked up, feeling her gaze, and walked towards her, pushing past Wu.

“But Mako,” the Prince called after him. “What if those guys who killed my aunt kidnapped her? I could be next!”

Mako drew up few feet from Asami. “What do you think this means?” he asked her, ignoring Wu.

“I’m not sure,” she answered.

“I just don’t understand why we thought she was coming back tonight,” he said, shaking his head.

Asami was about to respond, when Tenzin’s voice boomed out, making them jump. “Enough!” he shouted. Looking over, she saw Raiko and Tonraq glaring at each other with Lin standing in-between, holding an arm up to restrain the Chief. Tenzin continued, “We won’t solve this here tonight. Raiko, we’ll meet first thing tomorrow. But I think it’s best if you head home for now. Tonraq,” he turned his head, “we’ll get you situated.”

Raiko’s scowl deepened, but he never took his eyes off of Tonraq. “Fine. Chief Beifong, if you’d be so kind as to escort us to the airship.”

“Of course,” she said, looking towards Mako. “You two, we’re leaving.”

“What? So soon?” Wu asked.

Mako looked helplessly towards Asami. “I guess...we have to go.”

“We can talk about this later,” she said. “After the coronation.”

An odd expression crossed his face. “No, I’ll be—“

“Mako, now,” Lin barked, as she, Raiko, Wu, and Buttercup made their way up the dock. He gave Asami an apologetic look before turning to follow.

Tonraq glared after them. “Sorry, Tenzin. He’s not too happy.”

“No,” he replied. “No, I should smooth that over. Jinora! Can you show Chief Tonraq to the dormitories?” He hurried off without waiting for her “Okay Dad.”

Tonraq unfolded his arms. “You’re not going with them?” he asked, looking at Asami. “Are you still staying here?”

“No,” she said, suddenly feeling awkward from his attention. “I came early in my motorboat.” She nodded her head towards the post it was tied to.

“That was smart,” he said.

Asami was unsure if it was meant to be a joke, but she managed a small laugh all the same. “Raiko can be frustrating. His focus on his image is hard to shake,” she offered. “I’ve been working with him the past three years.” Tonraq rolled his eyes in response.

“Sir—uh, Chief Tonraq?” Jinora said hesitantly. “Do you want me to take you to your room?”

He sighed. “Sure, might as well. Come on, Naga.” The polar bear dog rose laboriously into a sitting position. Tonraq gestured back towards his ship. “The captain and chief mate will probably opt to stay on there tonight. But you should let those acolytes of yours know.”

Jinora nodded. “We’ll send a couple down to the docks to take care of them once we get to the dormitories.”

“I’m going to head home,” Asami said. The sooner she was alone, the better. “It was nice seeing you again, Sir.”

Tonraq paused, considering her. “Asami, you haven’t heard anything, right?”

“Heard anything?”

“From Korra. I know—I know she wrote you. I thought, maybe...” his voice trailed off.

“No,” she said. “I only ever received one letter from her.” Asami’s felt a lump rising in her throat. She looked away.

“And there was nothing in it that might explain where she is?” Tonraq pressed.

She forced herself to think back over what Korra described: the visions of Zaheer, the continual mediation, her fear of never recovering. Somehow, Asami felt uncomfortable repeating that out loud, though she was sure Tonraq knew it all. “I...no. No, she was just describing her concerns about her healing progress.”

“That makes sense. She told me and Senna that she felt like she hit a wall, and wanted to come back here.” He frowned. “I know the second part’s a lie, but maybe this has to do with that 'wall.'”

“But she shouldn’t be trying to get through this alone,” Jinora said. “I should have visited with Dad. I could have led her through meditation like before.”

Tonraq put a hand on her shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. My daughter doesn’t always do what’s best for her. Unfortunately she got that from me.” He looked back towards Asami. “Thanks.”

“I...wish I could have been of some help,” she said.

“You’ve helped more than you know. This is on Korra now.” With that, he walked towards Naga and clapped a hand against her side. She pushed herself out of sitting position and began to pad down the dock, Tonraq close behind her.

“Bye, Asami,” Jinora called over her shoulder, hurrying to keep up.

Asami remained on the docks for a minutes. Korra thought this was in her head; she might be searching for clarity . Her eyes swept over the Southern Water Tribe ship, light still streaming out of its hull. Or she’s given up. But whatever her purpose, it was clear she wanted to be left alone. “It’s on Korra now,” Asami said to the water, shaking her head. She walked to the edge of the dock where her boat waited, untied it, and climbed in.

Chapter Text

Asami stood still, letting the scene wash over her: it was one of confusion. Many in the crowd and on stage were already on their feet, shouting and waving their arms, while others were only just rising as comprehension slowly dawned on them. All noise was swallowed by booming choruses of “all hail the Great Uniter!” The flashes from the cameras were blinding, but for once, the CEO of Future Industries was not the intended target.

That honor belonged to the woman standing at the front of the stage, looking down towards the growing pack of reporters. The Emperor, Asami thought, though the word felt foreign, unintelligible to her. She gave Kuvira a searching look, but the metalbender’s back betrayed nothing. Standing a few feet closer to Asami, Prince Wu slumped his head and shoulders. Or is he a king? He was given the broach. It was only then that Asami realized. “Mako,” she said urgently, jerking her head to her left.

For a split second their eyes met. Then Mako sprang to action. “I know, I know!” he said, trying to move around the police officers who were rushing towards the center of the stage. “Wu,” he called, pushing through a clearing, “I’ve got to get you out of here!”

“Be careful!” Asami might have called, but the words stuck in her throat. Kuvira wouldn’t be so audacious as to attack Wu, she told herself, though she couldn't quite believe it. She looked towards the center of the of the stage, where Raiko, Tenzin, Tonraq, and Lin had converged, standing in a semi-circle and looking grave. Izumi and her father had opted to remain sitting, speaking intently in low voices, while Eska and Densa watched from their own chairs, their faces so impassive one might think that they witnessed coups d'état every day.

Asami never felt more out of place. The President had asked her to the stage only the day before. It had been an empty gesture, Asami knew; with Korra’s unexpected absence, Raiko was no doubt trying to pack the stage with anyone who offered a degree of grandeur. Lin had also been a last minute addition. “If I have to be up there, I’m not sitting,” she had barked. “I’ll stand and keep an eye on my force. Nothing else.”

Asami had wanted to decline, and might have even done so had it not been for Mako. “Oh good, now I won’t have to be up there alone,” he had said, warmly. So Asami agreed, though refused a chair as well. She couldn’t help but feel as if she was somehow profiting off of Korra’s disappearance.

If she been here today, how differently might things have gone? The thought brought a lump to her throat. She looked around once more, desperate to get off the stage. It was then that she spotted Bolin in the crowd, on his feet and clapping. Any sadness she might have felt drained away in an instant. Asami made her way to the edge of the stage, careful to give Kuvira and the reporters a wide berth. She then hopped down as gracefully as her skirt would allow.

The crowd felt frenzied. A middle-aged woman jumped out, blocking Asami's path. “All hail the Great Uniter!”

She sidestepped the woman, and ran smack into Varrick. “Asami! Crazy, huh? No time to talk!” he shouted, breezing by her. Zhu Li followed in his wake, barely lifting her eyes to acknowledge Asami.

They were gone before she could even react. Bolin stood only a few yards away. She weaved through another pack of Kuvira supporters, past two young men who were worrying loudly about the possibility of a draft, and walked up to her friend. “Bolin!” she said, grabbing his shoulder.

He turned, looking relieved. “Asami! Wow, that was uh—interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Did you know this was going to happen?”

“What? No, of course not,” Bolin said, pure shock plain on his face.

“Did Varrick? I just passed him.”

“Maybe? I didn’t—” 

“Bolin!” a cold voice called out. Asami looked up to see Baatar Jr. approaching. “Kuvira is ordering all personnel back to the suites.” There was a hard look in his eyes, as there had been the day they discussed the tracks.

“Oh, I—” Bolin began.

“Now,” he said firmly, pointedly avoiding Asami’s gaze. “Where is Varrick?”

“I don’t know! He said this was a good time to ‘do the thing,’” Bolin answered.

Baatar sighed heavily. “I’ll find him. Get back to the hotel. Kuvira will meet us there shortly.” He brushed past them both, knocking into Asami’s shoulder with more force than she felt was entirely necessary.

“Bolin...” she said slowly, turning back towards her friend.

“I guess I should go,” he answered, shaking his head.

“You’re going to stay with Kuvira?” Asami asked incredulously.

“It’s my job. And we...help people. I know that’s all she wants to do!”

“And what about what everyone else wants?” She gestured towards the stage, where Raiko and Tenzin appeared to be shouting. Even Izumi was on her feet now.

His eyes widened, but before he could answer another voice called, “Bolin! You coming?”

She turned to see a man and a woman in Earth Kingdom uniforms staring at them. Bolin gave Asami a pleading look. “You should go,” she said in a sigh. “We can talk later.” She tried to manage a smile. The one he returned was equally unconvincing, and he departed without another word.

Once he was gone, Asami scanned the crowd for Sarika, desperate for a friendly face. Yet when she heard a woman emphatically calling her name, she jumped. 

The voice belonged to Suyin Beifong, who was rushing towards her. Asami barely managed a perfunctory “hello” before the metalbender was on her. “What did my son, Baatar Jr., want?” she asked, urgently.

“Oh...nothing,” Asami answered awkwardly. “He was just telling Bolin to go back to the hotel suite.”

“No doubt to hide from the reporters. I bet Kuvira’s controlling this story, just like all the others!”

“Uh...maybe. That would make sense,” she said. Even if it hadn’t, she would never dare argue the point with Suyin.

“I told Raiko Kuvira couldn’t be trusted! Stabilizing Ba Sing Se was one thing, but after what she did to me in Zaofu, how could he have appointed her as the interim leader?”

Asami desperately hoped the question was rhetorical. “Well, it looks like he realizes he made a mistake,” she tried, looking towards the stage once more. Even from a distance, she could see the President turning red around the collar.

“Oh of course he does now,” Suyin said, waving her hand. She looked intently at Asami. “Baatar didn’t say anything else? Nothing about Kuvira?”

She was spared the need to respond by an approaching police officer. “Governor Beifong? They beg a word with you on stage.”

“If only they had listened to me in the first place,” she said, her voice dripping with haughty dignity. The officer shifted uncomfortably. Suyin turned back. “I’ll see you around, Asami," she said with a smile.

“It was nice talking to you,” Asami said, hoping it sounded earnest. As she watched the duo walk away, she wondered if it would help. Suyin is in charge of one of the only remaining free states. Somehow, it didn’t seem like it could do much good. If Kuvira was comfortable declaring herself Emperor while Raiko, Tenzin, Tonraq, and Izumi sat only a few feet behind her, what could Suyin Beifong possibly do to stop her?

It was only then that Asami became aware of how oppressively hot the crowd was. If Sarika’s here, he’s going to be on the outskirts. She turned back around and tried to head towards the side of the rafters, away from the main throng. As she neared the edge, another Kuvira supporter jumped towards her, this one a young man. “Hail the Emperor!” he said, shoving a green flag with a silver seal in her face. Even from behind the fabric, Asami could smell the baijiu on his breath.

“Get away from me!” she said irritably, shoving him aside.

He stumbled backwards, but managed to stay on his feet thanks to the bodies behind him. “What, you don’t support the Great Uniter?” Several heads turned at his words, all considering Asami with unfriendly faces.

Even without her glove, she was fairly certain she would be able to handle a small group of drunken supporters, but it was hardly a theory she wanted to test. “No, I just—” she began, backing away with her hands raised. Only a few more feet and she would be clear of the bleachers.

“Because everyone here loves the GREAT UNITER!” he said, screaming the last two words. Several voices shouted in agreement. 

“Oh, if you like her so much, go enlist!” an angry voice called from behind Asami. She turned to see Ginni approaching.

“Hey! We won’t let you disrespect the Emperor like this!” a girl called. She was wearing a shirt with Kuvira’s face on it.

“How? By suggesting her supporters should actually help?” More heads turned at that.

“Ginni,” Asami said in a warning tone. She looked back towards the crowd. "We’re just going to go."

“Maybe you shouldn’t come back!” another man was saying now. “Good luck finding somewhere where the Great Uniter isn’t loved!”

Ginni laughed. “You mean like the United Republic?”

“Okay,” Asami said, grabbing her by the arm. She pulled Ginni around the side of the rafters before anyone else could respond. The screams of the crowd dampened as soon as they turned the corner.

“You don’t have to worry about them,” the publicist said once Asami let her go. “Wearing an Aces shirt doesn’t make anyone worthy of the cause they claim to love. Most likely they’re university students skipping class.”

“But why bother? I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

“Are you kidding? Asami, it’s obvious Kuvira’s been bribing the press for the past couple of years.” Ginni shook her head. “We can’t have that. I don’t think her supporters even realize what they’re actually cheering for.”

Asami found herself oddly impressed. “Well, you had been warning me from the start,” she offered, putting a hand on her hip. “I just can’t believe it came to this.”

“I can,” Ginni answered darkly. “Leave it to Raiko to favor a quick fix without worrying about the long-term. How could he have put her in charge?”

“All the world leaders agreed to it. But they’re going to do something about it, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know...she’s got an entire army. It would mean war.”

Asami considered telling Ginni how the leaders had asked to speak with Suyin, though it seemed like information she shouldn't have overheard in the first place. “It would be one army against three. Kuvira might still step down.”

“What and let Wu ascend?” Ginni asked, rolling her eyes. “I don’t see it happening.” She folded her arms. “Isn’t this what the Avatar is supposed to take care of? Why wasn’t she here?”

“She’s recovering,” Asami said automatically. Why did she have to bring up Korra? Despite the serious subject matter, it had been refreshing to speak with Ginni so candidly. To speak with anyone candidly.

“Yes, I know that. But recovering or not, her father made the trip. Just seems a little odd.”

“I’m sure she’s doing the best she can.” The words felt hollow. ‘She doesn’t want to be found,’ Asami could still hear Jinora saying.

“You haven’t heard anything?”

The question stung. “What, are you using me to get an inside scoop?” Asami deflected. Her tone was harsher than she had intended, but it either was anger or tears.

Ginni unfolded her arms, studying Asami’s face. After a moment she asked quietly, “Is that really what you think of me?”

That did bring the tears to Asami’s eyes, though whether it was from anger, sadness, or guilt she could not have said. She blinked away. “No, I don’t—”

“Because this may be hard for you to believe,” she continued, “but I’m actually concerned.”

“For Korra?”

“Who else?” The publicist set her jaw.

Asami swallowed. “Ginni, I was just...” For a second she considered telling her about Korra’s disappearance, but the madness passed as quickly as it had come. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, really.” It was true enough.

Ginni seemed to see that. She nodded curtly and looked away. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I’m just...sorry. You know that. About all of it."

When Ginni raised her eyes again, they were as hard as Baatar's. “That’s just it, Asami,” she said, shaking her head. “I never wanted you to be sorry. But you’re always going to be, aren’t you?” She gave a bitter chuckle, turned, and walked away.

Asami heard a sudden yell of the crowd from around the corner. All thoughts of seeing Sarika vanished; she needed to be home. She forced herself not to cry as she drove her newly painted Satomobile back towards Future Industries Tower, knowing there would be too many eyes in the lobby.

The first pair to see her belonged to Jin, the security guard. “Miss Sato!” He boomed, happily. Beyond him she saw the front lobby receptionist talking to Zigsa, though there was no sign of Daruka in sight. I could probably slip past them unnoticed. Jin’s voice interrupted the thought. “What’s new?”

There’s an Earth Empire now, Asami might have told him. Instead she forced a smile. “Just business as usual.”

She made her way towards her private elevator, careful to circle behind a large, potted plant that shielded her from Zigsa. It made no matter; Daruka’s client’s eyes never left the receptionist. It was only as the door to Asami’s elevator opened that it stuck her. “Business as usual,” she repeated under her breath, feeling panicked. She had plenty of business dealings with Kuvira’s campaign in the past, and was likely to still have open contracts. Her urge to retreat to her apartment vanished. Asami turned the key for her office instead.

Anju was hanging up the phone as Asami stepped out of the elevator. “Miss Sato! You’re back early.”

“Anju,” she said urgently, approaching the secretary’s desk, “I need you to set up appointments for me this afternoon. I’ll need to meet with Shoji, Katsu, and Xing. No excuses; tell them to drop whatever they have. And see if Dara can get in here first thing tomorrow morning.” The former line engineer had quickly proven herself a capable plant manager, increasing the bayside factory’s output by over ten percent within the first three months of her promotion. Asami had been so impressed that she created the position of Chief Operating Officer just for Dara, with a focus on improving efficiencies across all company facilities. Yet that meant Dara was rarely in Future Industries Tower, and tracking her down was likely to take the entire afternoon.

“But all three men for today?” Anju asked. “Does it matter in what order?”

“I’ll need to speak with Shoji first. Until then, see that I don’t have any interruptions.”

“Of course. Oh—and here’s your mail.” The secretary thrust a short stack of envelopes towards Asami.

Once inside her office, Asami closed the door behind her. She threw her purse and mail haphazardly onto her desk before crossing the room to her filing cabinets. She found copies of the company’s purchase orders inside the first drawer she tried, and pulled out the top three folders. Inside the second drawer, she located her RFPs and outgoing payment requests. She added two more folders to her stack.

It would be easier if I wait for Shoji, Asami realized. But she wanted to have a plan in anticipation of the meeting. She opened a third drawer, and then a fourth, until she found the most recent annual fiscal performance report. She somehow managed to extract it out without dropping the papers in her arms. She closed the drawer with her foot and staggered back to her desk, doing her best to balance the ungainly stack. Asami plunked it down, but didn’t even take a seat, opting instead to lean over the folders. She feverishly began to shuffle through the papers inside, pulling out anything that so much as mentioned an Earth Kingdom province. Earth Empire, she reminded herself.

It was after a half an hour of work that the top envelope from her stack of mail finally caught her eye. There, in its return address was the word “Gaoling.” Watch this be a new contract, she thought, shaking her head. The town had been stabilized nearly a year prior, and its rich ore deposits were all too well-known. Any business dealings there would almost certainly be linked to Kuvira’s forces. Asami picked up the envelope. Underneath sat a letter from her father, eerily familiar penmanship and all.

“Of course,” she said out loud. She threw the mail from Gaoling back down, staring at Hiroshi’s writing instead. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be doing this. You’d probably be fine working with Kuvira. New markets to strike,” she said sourly, shaking her head.

She was about to turn back to sorting the papers in her folders when an unpleasant thought struck her: what if Shoji wants to continue our business dealings? In the end, Asami would have the final say, but she and the CFO had clashed on company priorities before. Katsu wouldn’t put up any argument with her, she knew. She was less sure about Xing. Could he possibly think it would be a bad PR move to sever ties? She and her publicist got along well enough, but she knew shockingly little about him despite having hired him nearly half a year ago.

I know this is the right decision, she told herself. Look how upset Tenzin was. Still, doubts plagued her. Ginni agrees with me. That had been oddly comforting. Asami would have loved nothing more than to run her worries by her former publicist, but she knew any semblance of a friendship they might have had for the past few months was firmly over after today. 

You have only yourself to blame, Asami thought, an all-too familiar feeling of loneliness sweeping over her. Ginni was gone, Sarika needed to be kept at arm’s length, Bolin was staying with Kuvira, Mako would be tied up with Wu, most likely needing to protect him from assassination attempts for the foreseeable future, and Korra...

Korra doesn’t want to be here. It hadn’t been easy, but it had been alright dealing with her absence when the Avatar had been healing in her home. Asami knew how much Korra needed it, and her friend's silence had been more worrying than anything else. But somehow knowing that for the past six months Korra had been sending letters to her father...that she could have written, that she was purposely hiding...

Angry tears filled Asami’s eyes. She looked back at the stack of letters, the envelope from Republic City Prison still sitting on top. In a quick motion she fanned them, though she knew none would be from Korra. Even so, seeing the proof of that stung more than usual. “And yet, you write to me,” Asami said bitterly, picking up her father’s envelope. She stared at it, letting that thought sink in. The words “Hiroshi Sato” looked back at her in mocking clarity.

Asami turned it over in her hands, making to open it, before she realized what she was doing. “No,” she said firmly. “There is nothing you could say that I would want to hear.” ‘Then why are you keeping it?’ a voice in her head seemed to ask. ‘Why are you keeping all of them?’ For a moment the voice almost sounded as if it belonged to her father.

She felt a tear roll down her cheek, but made no move to wipe it away. “This needs to stop.” With a shuttering breath, Asami unlocked the smallest drawer of her desk and pulled out Hiroshi’s other letters. All together, they formed a surprisingly meager stack. Yet each one had meant a wave of guilt...a feeling of self-doubt...a ruined day. Each one had meant the taste of bile in her throat and the feel of sweat on her palms.

It needed to stop. And for once, it would be Asami’s call.