Chapter Text
There was only one life to call on, and it drew him in sometimes.
It was strange, how close he could feel to Korra. Or how it seemed that way. Sometimes he wondered if he merely talked to a shadow, while the real Korra’s spirit had floated to the unknown. He wondered if, when he was not talking to her, Korra was able to be somewhere with her loved ones. He couldn’t tell, and didn’t dare ask.
That is why he did it for her.
Once a month, go to the grave. Light the candles, place them there. Sweep it. Polish the name so that it shown bright. Asami Sato. No one he knew, but Korra had loved her. Loves her.
He had met him once there, that man with eyes like ice. Amaqjuaq did not like him. The Avatar had stolen mama, and then mom had gone with her. When Amaqjuaq looked at Zheng from behind the frames of his glasses, something barely repressed roiled.
“Hello, Avatar Zheng.”
“Hello, Amaqjuaq.”
That was all they said. Zheng handed Amaqjuaq the broom as he went to polish Korra’s name on the grave beside Asami’s. She was not dead to him, but it wouldn’t do to leave one half of the pair dirty.
That had been many months ago. He wondered what Korra thought as he went through his day. Was she proud of him? The first Avatar born, not in one of the four great nations, but in Republic City? Sure, his family was mostly Earth Confederation, and that had something to do with it. But it meant something, that the Avatar came from the land of unity.
He looked up at the screens of Raiko Square. Some advertisements for Future Industries' new phone (“Future Gear 2: it’s all in your pocket”), an ad for vacations to the Western Air Temple (“See the wonders of ancient Air Nomad engineering!”), dozens for a dramatic mover about Firelord Ozai’s final days as a ruler (“The Final Dragon: Welcome to the end of an era”). Of course, they wanted him training right now, ready for the newest threat that might emerge. One of the Earth Confederation’s petty states threatening nuclear war, activists leaking Water Tribe diplomatic cables, Neo-Equalists rebelling in the Fire Nation.
But Zheng was 20, and just wanted to get his degree at Republic City University done. First Avatar to go to college, too, but he insisted. The poli-sci degree would be useful for his work.
In his heart, he knew he’d chose it because he liked it. If he hadn’t been the Avatar, he’d have picked it anyway. Not that he knew what not being the Avatar was like.
He bought a steamed bun off a food cart and sat down on a bench, staring blankly up at the screens again.
“Korra.”
He wasn’t sure if she heard.
“Did you know what to do when you were my age?”
No answer. Of course not, not when he wasn’t meditating. But he knew the answer, anyway.
“No, huh? Guess even you had problems.”
He finished his bun and wiped his hands on his coat. It was that day of the month, again. The cemetery was only a few blocks away.