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Republic City is always changing. Change has been part of its nature from the beginning, when it was only a dream in Avatar Aang’s mind. A city separate from the Four Nations, yet representative of them all, had seemed impossible to some. But others believed in change. New ideas, new ways of life. And so Republic City was born.
These days, new buildings have sprung up alongside the spirit vines that wind over and alongside Republic City’s roads. Restaurants, businesses, homes, full of many different kinds of people. The roads themselves are always full of cars, many of which Asami designed herself.
(Herself. Not with her father.)
The Sato Estate has changed too. A few weeks after their return from the Spirit World, in a show of good faith, she and Korra had decided to transform the majority of the grounds into a Spirit Garden, where Republic City’s newest residents could take shelter. Trees, ponds, gazebos, plenty of space.
In the center of the garden is a simple marble sepulcher, with an accompanying bronze plaque.
Hiroshi Sato. Beloved husband and father. Fearless dreamer.
Amidst all the change—some of it wonderful, other parts difficult—Asami finds comfort in maintaining a childhood tradition.
Every Friday night, no matter how busy or tired he was, Hiroshi Sato used to leave work early and have dinner with his family. They’d eat a proper meal at the dining room table instead of stolen bites between work, chores, and lessons. They cooked. They read. They talked and reconnected. Those Friday nights make up many of Asami’s happiest memories.
Now, even though her father is gone, she’s found a way to continue on.
Some aspects have changed out of necessity. Asami shares most dinners with Korra, and often their friends as well. Instead, she sees her father for lunch. Every Friday at lunchtime, she goes home, packs a picnic basket, and walks through the garden to sit by the sepulcher.
Sometimes, the weather doesn’t cooperate. It rains or snows, but that’s why umbrellas and mittens were invented. Or so Asami tells Korra. Today is cold and grey, but dry, for which Asami is thankful. She spreads her mat on the ground beside the sepulcher, kneels, and begins unpacking.
“Hi, Dad.” She looks down at the takeout container of noodles, several minutes cold by now, sitting forlornly in the middle of the basket. “Sorry. I didn’t have time to cook. But something’s better than nothing, right?”
She takes the container out, but doesn’t open it.
“Varrick’s on about one of his ‘brilliant schemes’ again, but this one might have real potential. Small electronic screens for movers. He says he wants every home in Republic City to have what he calls a VarrickBox.” She laughs. “I told him we’d have to workshop the name.”
The wind picks up, blowing through Asami’s hair. Despite the chill, it isn’t unpleasant. Her standing lunch date forces her to go outside more, which isn’t a bad thing in her line of work. She spends most of her time at the office, in a Satomobile, or in her basement workshop, so the outdoors are a refreshing change.
(The basement workshop is another change that occurred after her father went to prison. She had to do something with the evil warehouse hidden underneath the mansion.)
Yeah. Not one of your best ideas, Dad.
Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, she continues talking about the VarrickBox.
“There’s plenty of upsides besides the profit to be made. Like the radio, it could be used to keep people informed of the news… hopefully accurate news. It could ignite a whole new mover-making industry, right here in Republic City. But I can’t help but think about the downsides. Will families watch it instead of actually talking to each other?”
Half-heartedly, she opens the takeout container, removes a pair of chopsticks from the basket, and takes a few bites. She swallows, and her stomach is grateful for the sustenance even though her mouth doesn’t much care.
“Would my childhood have been different with a VarrickBox at home? I mean, Friday nights. When I was little, you used to read to me after dinner. Later, after… well, later, we read together in the den. The paper or whatever. We talked.”
(She can’t help but think about all the things her father never said, before his imprisonment. All the secrets he kept.)
She forces down some more noodles before setting the container aside, staring at the sepulcher’s plaque.
Fearless dreamer. I won’t ever be that, will I? I’m always cautious about the impact Sato Industry’s inventions and products could have. If there’s anything Kuvira taught us, it’s how easily technology can be twisted…
“But change comes for us whether we’re ready or not, doesn’t it? If I don’t design and produce the—I really don’t want to keep calling it the VarrickBox—someone else will. So how do I make it a good addition to the world instead of a bad one?”
She sighs, brushing back a loose strand of hair dislodged by the breeze. “At least I don’t think it can be turned into a weapon. But it could be used to radicalize if some crazy person like Amon or Zaheer used it to reach new followers. I’ll have to talk with Zhu Li. Our manufacturing partners. Republic City should have laws on the books before this thing comes out.”
Asami tries to imagine what her father would say. How he would advise her. Frustratingly, he would probably insist that his time in the sun was over, and after all the mistakes he’d made, these decisions were best left up to her anyway. Not particularly helpful, Dad.
She forces a small smile. “But it could broadcast pro bending matches to people all over the world. The sport might even spread beyond Republic City. It could be used to educate. People who’ve never seen the world, but can’t leave home, could get a taste of other cultures. Kind of like here, you know? Not everyone’s lucky enough to live in a place like this.”
Looking away from the plaque, she observes the surrounding garden. One of the flowering bushes nearby rustles, though not from the breeze. As she watches from the corner of her eye, a lavender dragonfly bunny creeps out from its hiding place, sniffing in the direction of her noodles.
Asami chuckles. Slowly, so as not to scare the tiny creature, she tips the container on its side, pushing it toward the dragonfly bunny. “Go on. I’m not hungry anyway.”
The dragonfly bunny remains frozen, staring at her with wide marble eyes. Eventually, however, it skitters up to the container and begins slurping at the noodles. Asami tries to remember if she’s seen this one before. Probably, a time or two. She isn’t sure if noodles are part of a healthy spirit’s diet, but the little guy is obviously hungry.
Soon, two more dragonfly bunnies, yellow and green, emerge from the bush to join their friend. No longer afraid, they clean out the container, then flop onto their sides, curling into a multi-colored huddle for a mid-afternoon nap.
Asami smiles. The yellow one has a bushy upper lip that reminds her of her dad’s mustache. You would have loved the Spirits, if you’d had a chance to interact with them. They can be dangerous if you threaten them or don’t respect their ways, but no one can deny they’re fascinating.
Carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping dragonfly bunnies, she removes the empty container and places it in the basket along with her chopsticks. She climbs to her feet, rolls up her mat, and tucks it under her arm.
“Just a short visit today, Dad. I need to get back to work. But these little guys will keep you company. I hope, wherever you are…”
Her eyes burn with unshed tears. A hard lump forms in her throat, but she manages to speak.
“I hope wherever you are… whether you’re in the Spirit World or you’ve reincarnated or… whatever. I hope you know I love you. And I usually have more good memories than bad.”
She touches her fingers to her lips, then presses them against the corner of the plaque. After a long moment, she departs, pausing to look up as a flock of birds passes over head. They’re so high up, she can’t tell whether they’re spirits or plain old seagulls from the bay, but they seem to know where they’re going.
(She envies that, a little.)
With a sigh, Asami heads back to the mansion, thinking about how she’ll spend the rest of her day. Maybe she’ll call it an early day and stay in rather than returning to the office. Fiddle around in her workshop. Korra should be home for dinner in a few hours.
Maybe I’ll tell her about Varrick’s newest idea. See what she thinks. She’ll probably love it. And wait ‘til Bolin finds out! I have a funny feeling Nuktuk might return to the silver screen after all… at least for a little while.
Maybe Asami doesn’t always know where she’s going, but she knows exactly who she’ll be bringing along with her.