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Hiroshi held the telephone receiver to his ear.
"So which do you like better, Ba Sing Se or Republic City? ... Hahah. Just remember to stay close to your tutors and if you ever get separated from them on the rail systems ... Yes, I know I've told you this before, but it’s important. Get off at the next station or stay where you are and they'll come back for you ... What did you have for dinner tonight? ... Mm, hmm. Yes, I remembered to eat ... No, nothing too interesting with the company. I have been staying in an apartment in the city closer to the factory ... It must be late there, I'll let you get to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow night, Asami, sweetie ... Goodnight, love you too."
Hiroshi hung the receiver on its stand. He reached for the next letter in a stack of correspondence and sliced it open with a flick of a letter opener. His eyes skimmed through to the end without taking in any of the information. He started again at the top but found himself listening more to the whir of the room's fan than the words. Hiroshi tossed the paper aside and pushed up the frame of his glasses as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Grabbing the solitary dinner plate on the desk, he walked from the study through to the living room, dining room, and then the kitchen. Rather than leaving it to the housekeeper in the morning, he sought the tangible sense of accomplishment from placing the washed plate onto the drying rack.
His steps resounded through the empty apartment as he returned to the study. He counted the letters awaiting replies and confirmed the number had remained constant from 2 minutes ago. Hiroshi glanced over to the evening paper's front page which only offered dueling opinion pieces on a public library initiative before the Council and reviews on the opening of the opera season. The ticking of the clock more persuasively drew his attention. The present time sat in that oppressive middle period in which he could neither expect to fall asleep if he tried to turn in nor look forward to an hour or two of relaxation after going through the night's work.
Hiroshi moved toward the window and swung it open. The humidity unfurled into the apartment like an ocean current. Hiroshi unbuttoned the top of his linen shirt and rolled up his sleeves. He leaned his hands against the windowsill and looked out onto Republic City from the fourth floor vantage point. The sun lingered on the horizon refusing to set from the cloudless skies. Two young boys walked along the sidewalk on the other side of the street as they punctuated their discussion with waving arms. They turned at the corner at the end of the block. A Satomobile pulled to the curb, and a woman shouted out to the driver from her apartment window. She checked her makeup in a hallway mirror before running out the door as the driver brushed his hair into place using the side view mirror. The woman exited the apartment building and greeted the man with a peck on the cheek. She leaned into his ear as he opened the passenger side door for her, and they shared a laugh.
Those same boys re-entered the scene as if they had doubled back. They paced the length of the street and then crossed the intersection to continue along Hiroshi's side. Hiroshi reached for his vest and headed out of his apartment. The doorman opened the door for him just as the boys were passing by the building.
"Look, bro, we're lost. Let's ask someone for directions."
"I think we've got bigger problems than that. Just let me think, okay?"
Hiroshi called out to them. "Hello, excuse me, do you need any help? I noticed you going back and forth across this street."
The older of the two boys examined Hiroshi up and down with a scowl. Hiroshi likewise took notice of their patched clothing that hung too loose at the shoulders. Hiroshi continued, "I've got a telephone if you need to call anyone."
The younger boy argued with his companion in whispers. The older boy relented as he turned back to Hiroshi. "Alright, thanks."
"The name's Hiroshi." He extended his hand.
The older boy shook it with a firm grip. "Mako. And this is my brother, Bolin."
The doorman welcomed the trio though raised his eyebrows as the street urchins' mud caked shoes treaded across the carpet. Hiroshi scribbled a mental note for the next morning to pass an extra twenty yuan to the building manager for the cleaning bill. They made their way up the stairwell, and Hiroshi opened the apartment door. "The telephone is through there. Do you know how to use it?"
Mako scrunched up his face in an "Are you kidding me? I'm 12, not 4" expression which Hiroshi answered with a humoring smile. Mako stepped into the study and through the open doorway Hiroshi heard him saying, "Hello, operator, connect me to--." A whistle from Bolin grabbed Hiroshi's attention. He had plopped down onto the leather couch and was looking all around the living room. "Nice place you have here. What do you do for a living?"
"Well, thank you, though I'm not sure I deserve any of the praise. The apartment came with all the furnishings. I'm just renting for a month to be closer to work while my daughter is visiting Ba Sing Se. Our house on the city outskirts is a bit lonely at the moment. And I'm an engineer."
"You mean with trains?"
"No, um, with cars. I design them."
"Oh, wow, that's really cool. Hey, do you mind if I get something to drink? Hot day and all that."
"Oh, of course. I'll be right back." When Hiroshi returned to the living room holding two glasses of water, he found Mako already waiting for him.
"Thanks for letting us use your telephone. We're all set now, so we'll be on our way."
"Is someone coming to pick you up?"
"No, we'll catch a ride on the trolleys."
"Well, how about I drive you in my Satomobile instead? Save you the fare and get you there faster. Children shouldn't be traveling alone at night, anyways."
Mako bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes. "Fine, we're heading to the meat packing district."
Mako and Bolin stared out through the windows from the backseat of the Satomobile as Hiroshi navigated through the downtown traffic against the glare of the sun. Well to do ladies and gentlemen hurried to their evening appointments at social clubs and private salons. Restaurants patrons on outdoor patios sipped from martini glasses as they waited for their tables.
"So, the meat packing district is halfway across the city. What brought you to my neighborhood?"
Mako answers, "We fell asleep on the trolley and missed our stop."
"Yeah, we woke up at the end of the line and got lost as we walked out of the station to get our bearings."
"I can relate. The back and forth swaying is like being rocked to sleep for me."
"..."
"You know, I grew up not too far from where we're going. I remember running around in the streets all day only going back inside when my mother called me for meals. So where were you two coming from that you were riding the trolleys home?"
"Just exploring the city."
"Ah, I remember when a single yuan could get you an all day pass around the city."
"..."
Hiroshi heard one of the boys drumming his fingers and resigned himself to leaving the conversation for dead. The fashionable districts gave way to brick tenements packed so together tight a fire ferret couldn't squeeze between. The Satomobile rumbled through the unpaved streets as loose gravel plunked the undercarriage.
"Can you direct to me where I'm dropping you off?"
A hacking cough started up in Mako's chest that seized up his whole body. Bolin patted his back and relayed to Hiroshi in a stage whisper, "Sorry, my brother tries to put up a brave face, but he's a bit sickly. Do you mind pulling over so he can get some air?"
"Of course, of course."
As the Satomobile stopped, Mako and Bolin bolted out onto the sidewalk. By the time Hiroshi finished fumbling with his door latch, their short forms had dissolved into the rivers of pedestrians. A street side greengrocer laughed aloud at the scene. "Mako and Bolin scam you out of something?"
"No, I can't say that exactly. You know them?"
"Yeah, I'm familiar with those troublemakers. I've had to chase them off a fair number of times for stealing my goods."
"Any chance you know where they're headed?"
"You can probably find them hanging on at the Lucky Dragon Saloon on Fleet Street. Go down the end of the block and make a right. Can't miss it."
"Thanks, and here's a little something extra for you if you don't mind keeping my Satomobile from ending up on cinder blocks."
Hiroshi's ears found the saloon before his eyes. A musician banged away at an upright piano as the brass section blared out a jazz number over shouted conversations and the crack of the billiards tables. Hiroshi grabbed an open stool. The bar counter felt solid underneath his fingers as if carved from a solid tree trunk and built to support the laments of a million drunks. He caught the eye of a bartender.
"What can I get for you?"
"Chilled sake. I'm also looking for Mako and Bolin. I heard they hung out around here and wanted to make sure they were alright."
"I can help you with the liquor. Names don't sound familiar. Sorry."
The bartender brought over a porcelain bottle and a cup. Hiroshi's search had reached a dead end, but his hands had a drink and his feet had the brass rail beneath the bar. The sake tasted crisp and sweet. Hiroshi passed the time between sips observing the bartenders handling each wave of customers that lashed against the bar. Waitresses in the black vests and bowties ferried trays heaped with skewers of grilled meats from the kitchens. The band played on punctuated by the occasional patron slapping a tabletop to emphasize a conversational point.
For a long time Hiroshi's world consisted of his pre-dawn and after sunset walks between his apartment and his workshop. When the rush of discovery captured his soul and he felt so close to a breakthrough, the workshop served triple duty as dining room and bedroom. Later in life, he spent the daylight hours overseeing the factory and nights at home with Yasuko and Asami. Hiroshi never experienced the common Republic City day of aching from a twelve hour shift working for a boss and then unwinding with the boys at the neighborhood saloon, but he had a springtime period when he had dated Yasuko. She brought him to restaurants and nightclubs packed with urban professionals brimming with the certainty that they would conquer life. He learned to be done with the blueprints, contracts, and tinkering and enjoy the rest of the day after work. This accidental night on the town captured a little vial of those youthful times. The noise of the crowd, the energy of the band, and the taste of the liquor all melded together to connect him to the rhythm of Republic City.
Hiroshi was reaching into his pockets to pay the tab when a hand clapped against his back. "How's it going, friend? The name's Zolt. I hear you helped out our Mako and Bolin."
"Hiroshi. You know Mako and Bolin? I was all set on giving up my search. How are they?"
"They're just dandy. Let's talk where it's quieter. Fine gentleman like you shouldn't be hanging out with these drunken louts."
Hiroshi followed the broad shouldered man down an unlit hallway at the back of the saloon away from the sounds of the crowds and music. Zolt thumped twice on a metal door with his fist, and an eye level slat slid open. The amber eyed guard unlatched the door and swung it open. Smoke swirled, and gambling chips clacked together. A shirtless dealer with dragon tattoos twisting down his forearms presided at the far end of the room shaking a cup filled with dice. The gamblers reclined in a wide square around him as they puffed on pipes.
Zolt gestured to a side room, and Hiroshi settled onto the tatami mats. A waitress brought in the drinks, and Zolt dismissed her with a nod. Zolt revealed his own set of lion turtle tattoos as he pulled back his sleeves to pour out the sake. He raised his cup in a toast, and Hiroshi reciprocated. The drink went down smoother than his drink at the bar, though the surrounding's increased harshness counteracted the liquor's increased quality.
"Thanks again for making sure Mako and Bolin got back okay. Not too many citizens are as civic minded as you these days."
"Sure, sure. If you don't mind me asking, how are you related to them?"
"No, no, you're not imposing at all. They hang out around here, and we try to shoo them off. Saloon is no place for children, you know. But they always come back, so the boys and I send them out to pick up our takeout meals. We give them something for the trouble. Well tonight I was worried about it raining after they headed out so I asked a friend to pick them up from the restaurant. They got in his Satomobile, but were apparently scared as chickens in a wolfbat coop since they didn't know the guy. So they leaped from the car when he stopped at an intersection."
"Yes, they tend to do that. They also told me a tall tale about their predicament."
Zolt flashed a grin full of teeth. "I bet they did, those scamps. Well, as a show of my gratitude--," Zolt pulled out a thick roll of yuan and peeled off a hundred yuan bill.
"Oh, no, please. I was happy to help them. I would much rather you give the money to Mako and Bolin. In fact, do you mind if I see them?"
Zolt smiled again. "Such a nice guy, but I'm afraid they've already gone home for the evening. If you won't take the money, at least let me set you up with some chips. On the house! I won't take no for an answer." Hiroshi followed him back to the main parlor.
"Lefty here will teach you the ropes, won't you Lefty?"
A lank gambler with a thin mustache practically jumped up from his sitting spot. "Yes! Yes, sir, Mr. Zolt."
"Alright, Hiroshi, I need to get back to work, but make sure you enjoy yourself tonight. Lady Luck doesn't smile on sad sacks."
Hiroshi sat down next to Lefty as an attendant brought over a stack of chips. Lefty mumbled out the rules, "It's pretty simple. The dealer rolls two dice, and you bet either Even or Odd beforehand." Lefty settled back into a hunch and turned his eyes to the dealer as his fingers fidgeted over his own chips. Without further indication that Lefty would acknowledge his presence, Hiroshi tossed in a chip for Odd. He continued betting Odd for the next several rounds as he counted down until he could reasonably leave without offending his host or breathing in much more of the smoke.
Lefty shout of "Even!" shook Hiroshi from his thoughts. Lefty had shoved in the remainder of his chip stack with both hands, and sweat had soaked through his threadbare shirt. He rocked back and forth in place and bit down on his thumb as he stared down the dealer.
The dealer splashed the dice onto a board. "Odd!"
Something between a cry and an expletive died within Lefty's throat. He slumped down even further. He stared as an attendant collected his chips and then at the empty spot where his chips once rested. "You cheated! You loaded the dice!"
Two bouncers placed their calloused hands on Lefty's shoulders. "That's a dangerous accusation to make, Lefty, especially as it seems you're cleaned out for the night."
"I think its best you come with us to settle up your account." They pulled Lefty upright and escorted him towards a dark hallway leading away from the main parlor. Lefty whimpered and scanned the room for sympathizers, but the other gamblers occupied themselves with counting out the chips for the next round of betting. Hiroshi drummed his fingers against the tatami mat. He followed after the toughs until coming to an open doorway shining with light. He crouched behind a musty crate as he listened to the shouts.
"I'll have the money next week after my paycheck!"
"That's what you said last week and the week before that."
"I think we need to find some way to stop all this lying."
Hiroshi peeked around the corner. Lefty's limbs had been secured to the concrete walls with earth bending. A solitary light bulb swung freely from the ceiling which illuminated the ice dagger wielded by one of the bouncers. An additional light erupted behind Hiroshi and from the warmth radiating onto his cheeks, he knew the source even before he whipped around to verify it with his eyes. The flames crackling in Zolt's right hand casted flickering shadows across the bender's face.
"Lefty's a no good guy, and this is what happens to deadbeats who don't pay their debts. But you're a stand up guy, Hiroshi, so why don't you return to the main room."
Hiroshi swallowed and nodded as he moved back down along the hallway. Zolt remained in place even as the heat of the flames pressed themselves against the back of Hiroshi's neck and sent a chill down his spine. When he found his seat, he gripped his cup with trembling hands and downed the rest of the drink without tasting anything but the burn. He stared at the empty cup as the sounds of the game blurred into a nondescript hum contrasted against a ringing in his ears.
Time passed until an attendant placed a hand on Hiroshi's shoulder. "I said, sir, we have been informed of a police raid in the next 10 minutes. Your tab is compliments of the house tonight. If you will follow me to the exit." Hiroshi stirred awake from his stupor and took a gulp of air when he realized remembering to breath had been overridden by other worries. He followed the attendant out through a concealed door leading to a cramped alleyway.
Hiroshi stood there after the door clanged closed. The other patrons had long since scattered in search of the next drink and game of chance. A rustling disturbed the silence, and Hiroshi saw an arm propped limply against a trash bag. He walked over with one tentative step after the other as if learning to walk for the first time and saw Lefty's form collapsed in a heap. His head lolled against the brick wall. He must have lost a tooth or two given the rivulet of blood that dribbled from his half open mouth.
"Can you stand?"
Lefty slurred something in response, and Hiroshi took that as a close enough yes. He reached for Lefty's arm, but Lefty jerked back as if stung. In the yellow lamplight, Hiroshi saw the frostbite streaked across the forearms. Repositioning himself, Hiroshi grabbed around the torso and heaved. Lefty's feet eventually found the ground after a few false positives in the search. The two stumbled out of the alley and into the streets now fit enough for tumbleweed. Hiroshi turned his head, as much as he could with Lefty in tow, in search of help, but news of the police raid had inspired all the citizens to find some other neighborhood to loiter in.
Hiroshi spotted the placard for a clinic down the block, and he half carried the half conscious Lefty down the street. Hiroshi banged on the door, and a Water Tribesman answered. Hiroshi needed a moment to catch his breath, but the man only needed a look at the pair before saying, "Alright, let's bring him in." He grabbed Lefty's other side, and they guided him into the clinic. They laid him down on an examination table, and the healer said, "I can take it from here. You can wait in the front parlor."
Hiroshi collapsed into a couch to relieve his burning calves. He dabbed away at the sweat gushing from his brow with a handkerchief. When he pulled back the cloth, the silk had bloomed red. Searching for the source, he noted that Lefty's blood must have smudged onto his hands. He leaned forward in his seat and splayed out his fingers in front of him. Hiroshi rubbed at the splotches with the handkerchief, but some of it had already dried onto the skin.
The healer entered the parlor and walked over to the fireplace. "Your friend has some cracked ribs and his arms will be sensitive for some time, but he'll live."
"Thank you. That's good to hear."
The doctor reached for a pipe sitting on the mantel and unscrewed a container of dried tobacco leaf. "Triad trouble?"
Hiroshi hadn't responded by the time the healer had struck a match and lit the pipe with a few puffs. The doctor outed the matchstick with a few waves and tossed it aside. "Don't worry about me talking. The triads may provide for my breakfast, lunch, and supper in their own way, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it."
Hiroshi settled the medical bill and wandered back to his Satomobile. He drove through the streets but paid more attention to his hands on the steering wheel than the traffic. He arrived at the apartment at a time of night in which dawn seemed closer than sleep.
He walked through the darkened rooms and reclined into the chair inside his study. The summer heat clawed at his skin and made him want to crawl out of it. Hiroshi's mind surveyed the ticks of the clock that awaited him until the sun came. He flicked on the desk lamp which threw half his body into a blinding cone of light while leaving the other half in darkness. His insides churned about the bender thugs hiding behind smiles even as they constricted everything in Republic City that their tentacles could grasp and the corrupt cops that couldn't stop crime two inches from their faces and those two street urchins who had played him and all the everyday slights he'd learned to endure as a non-bending second class citizen. In the burning pit of his stomach, he mourned Yasuko all over again. And so with the bloodstains still on his hands, Hiroshi began drafting out a mechanical glove that would concentrate all this turmoil into something terribly controlled.