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One evening, as dusk began to descend upon them, Kyoshi and Rangi found themselves relaxing away from the others, on a rocky outcrop overlooking the countryside below. The rest of the Flying Opera Company was off tending to their own exploits after a long day of training. Kyoshi’s legs ached from Rangi’s unrelenting training regimen - well, her whole body ached, really, but lengthy holds of horse stance especially wore out her legs.
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the grasses sway in the gentle breeze. A few lightning catbugs began to flicker and purr around them. Only their arms brushed against each other, until Rangi let out a small sigh and let her head fall against Kyoshi’s shoulder. Kyoshi felt warmth spread from the point of contact, radiating throughout her body. She felt…relaxed. Peaceful. But right as she began to put labels to these sensations, Rangi’s head shot up, swiveling to meet Kyoshi’s gaze.
“Kyoshi…” Rangi said quizzically, then paused, slowing her speech. “You never told me…I never learned…how Kels-” she tripped over Kelsang’s name, looked down, and pulled at the grass at their feet, brows knitting together.
She took a deep breath and soldiered on. “...how he first got the idea that you might be the Avatar. Obviously what happened on the iceberg with Tagaka brought things out in the open, with your bending, but…I was only privy to the high points of any conversations after that. And we…never really had the time to talk about it.”
Kyoshi stared off into the distance, memories of the tall air nomad with his swirling orange robes and joyous laughter dancing in her mind. And his body, broken, a stone dagger pierced through his neck; nothing but white light after that.
Kyoshi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Rangi had had so little of the truth, of straightforward answers. She had followed Kyoshi without question - though not without her own opinions and admonitions - but thinking about, talking about Kelsang, it would focus her, remind her not to grow distracted or complacent in her mission.
Kyoshi let out a long breath and slowly opened her eyes. She felt Rangi’s hand on hers. Kyoshi met Rangi’s patient, waiting gaze. “Okay.”
And then, preparing to recall that day, the day that kicked off the tumultuous chain of events that was now Kyoshi’s life, she realized the previously overlooked implication. Oh shit , Kyoshi thought. She could feel the heat behind her cheeks, was grateful for the growing darkness that would hopefully hide the spreading redness on her face.
“Uh...so, do you remember that day with the pickled kelp?” Kyoshi asked in a higher pitched tone than usual.
“Yeeeah?” Rangi said questioningly, confusion clouding her features.
“Okay, so after we parted ways at the kitchens, I saw that Kelsang was helping with dinner preparations. I told him he had no business in the kitchens, but he insisted, so I joined him in making dumplings. And Auntie Mui, being Auntie Mui, started in on one of her high culture poetry tirades-”
“I’m sorry, what?” Rangi interjected.
“Oh, um, Auntie Mui is always trying to make the household staff more ‘cultured’ or whatever, and so she’ll go around making people compose haiku on the spot, while we’re working. And everyone always hated it, but you know, you do what Auntie Mui says,” Kyoshi explained.
Rangi was nodding to herself, a slight grin tugging at the edges of her mouth.
“Okay, stay with me, this is relevant!” Kyoshi swatted at Rangi’s arm after seeing an eyebrow arched questioningly.
“Auntie Mui picked on Lee, the line cook, first, and after his attempt, she told him how awful it was, and then Kelsang started up with this old sailor’s shanty. I don’t know if you have anything like it in the Fire Nation, but…you improvise a verse from the, er, perspective of the object of your affection. And sometimes it’s a bit...bawdy…and everyone tries to guess who you’re describing. Everyone gets really into it. And Auntie Mui hates it because it’s so low brow.”
Rangi nodded curtly, clearly trying to suppress a teasing grin. “Still not getting how this is related, but got on.”
“Well everyone was pushing me to go next, and, you know, usually that’s not really my thing, but, the words just…came to me, it just flowed, and I joined in a verse, and it felt really good. And then, by the time I got to the end of it, I realized Kelsang was gripping my wrist so tight it was bruising, his eyes were bulging, he looked…crazed or something,” Kyoshi shook her head. It made her feel warm, at first, describing the monk, but then it was painful, confusing. She hadn’t allowed herself to reflect, recall the memories, and Kyoshi wasn’t sure if it was a good decision, but she was in too deep to stop now.
“He hurried us out of there, and into the tiny closet library. He was apologizing profusely for hurting me, and I had to calm him down a bit before he could tell me why he had reacted that way. And it was then that he told me that the words I had sung - they were the same as a poem Kuruk had written. And that it was so improbable, that there was some chance that I…that I was the Avatar,” Kyoshi managed to finish.
“Just similar lines to a poem? I mean, it’s odd, but how was Kelsang so sure?” Rangi said.
“Well that’s what I said; I said he must be mistaken, must have remembered it wrong or something. But…”
“Must have been some memorable poem…” Rangi mused.
“Um…well…Kelsang assured me it was very memorable because it was…uh…” Kyoshi paused, cheeks burning up, the awkwardness building. “Um…it was a poem Kuruk showed to Kelsang, confessing his love for your mother,” Kyoshi finished in a rush.
She avoided eye contact with Rangi for a second, but then curiosity got the best of her, and she stole a glance at the firebender next to her. Rangi’s face was frozen in a look of surprise, her mouth just hanging open.
She flopped her mouth shut like a fish, and turned to look at Kyoshi. “So, umm…that’s…your past life…my mother…”
“He never gave it to her - Kelsang talked him out of it and made him destroy it on the spot,” Kyoshi justified.
Kyoshi felt a slight shaking coming from Rangi. Glancing over, she realized the firebender was laughing. In spite of herself, Kyoshi felt her shoulders relax a little, and let a smile creep across her face.
Finally, Rangi collected herself, even wiping away a tear. “Man, you really have a thing for Sei’naka women, huh?”
“It’s not…too…weird for you?” Kyoshi asked hesitantly.
“Kyoshi…we’re on the run with a daofei gang planning a jailbreak on a governor’s palace. And this is what you’re worried about being too weird ?” Rangi laughed as she pulled Kyoshi closer to her. Rangi began to plant delicate kisses up Kyoshi’s neck, nibbling at her ear. Kyoshi closed her eyes, relishing the touch from the firebender.
And then, Rangi whispered, mischievously, “ But I’m going to need to hear you sing that verse.”
Mortifying, that’s what it was, Kyoshi decided. This whole business. “But-”
She was cut off by a sharp look from Rangi.
“Okay, fine.”
Kyoshi inhaled shakily, then started in on the song:
“I’ve got two knives that are cast in bronze
They pierce all the way to the soul
They draw you in with the promise of sin
Like the moth to the flame to the coal.
I’ve got hair like the starless night
It sticks to my lips when I smile
I’ll wind it with yours and we’ll drift off course
In a ship touching hearts-”
A rustling behind them interrupted the song, and they turned to see Kirima clambering over the rocks above them, an amused look plastered across her face.
“Hate to stumble across whatever this is,” she said, in a tone that let Kyoshi know she was certainly stowing it away in her blackmail file. “But we could really use a fire back at camp, and I’m too tired to start it with this damp wood. Would you do us the honor, my good hotwoman?”
Kyoshi placed her head in her hands, absolutely at her limits for the amount of embarrassment she could handle in one night. Rangi rolled her eyes, tossing a few fireballs in Kirima’s direction - just close enough to make her have to dodge a little.
“I’ll let you collect yourselves, I guess,” Kirima sighed. “See you back at camp, lovebirds.”