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Some days were harder than others.
Sometimes the pain was absent, and Aang could laugh, and smile, and enjoy the time he spent with his friends. Other times the weight of what—no, who—he had lost threatened to crush him, and it seemed like nothing and no one could help.
Now that the wound wasn’t so fresh, most days were good. But some things had a way of ripping and tearing at the still-healing edges until it felt like there was a gaping, ragged, bleeding hole in his chest.
Zuko’s Uncle Iroh was one of those things.
Iroh was perhaps one of the greatest people that Aang had ever met—and Aang had met his fair share of great people. He was kind and encouraging, had enough wisdom to turn your whole life around, and had a sense of humor to boot. Aang found it nearly impossible to believe that this sweet old man could be related to Ozai and Azula. Or even Zuko, for that matter.
He was also a stinging reminder of everything that Aang had lost.
He saw Gyatso in every twinkle in Iroh’s eye, in every hearty belly laugh, in the gentle way he treated Zuko and his friends. It was a special kind of torture being around him; one that Aang didn’t think any of his friends could fully understand.
They tried, for sure; Katara especially. But there was really only so much that she could do to help. Aang couldn’t help it; he felt almost entirely alone in this.
This week was particularly bad. Team Avatar was reunited in the Fire Nation again, this time for a festival that Zuko had invited them all to (the Fire Nation sure did love their festivals). Something about seeing Zuko, reunited with his family, mixed with the celebration that reminded Aang viscerally of the ones the Air Temples used to have, was the start of another spiral of grief and longing.
The whole first day he was more downtrodden than usual. He disguised it pretty well, he thought; laughing and smiling like he was feeling fine, trying not to let the sadness show in his eyes. Most of his friends didn’t notice, a little too wrapped up in the kind of fun that they rarely got to experience now that they were older. But Aang saw Katara casting glances at him out of the corner of her eye for the last half of the day, and she finally confronted him when the group made their way back to the palace.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” she asked gently, putting a hand on his arm to halt their steps while the rest of the group went on ahead, oblivious. “You’ve been withdrawn all day.”
“Just…remembering, I guess.” Aang responded, deciding that it was better that he didn’t attempt to lie to Katara. She had a nearly Toph-like ability to sniff out when he wasn’t telling the truth.
Katara’s face softened. “Do you want to talk?”
Aang shook his head. “Not this time. I think I’m going to go and meditate.”
She kissed his cheek. “Okay. I’ll see you later.” She cast one final concerned look at him before hurrying to catch up with the rest of the group.
Aang walked the halls aimlessly for a bit, sinking into the quiet. When he caught sight of a balcony, he slowed his pace and made his way over to the intricate archway. Nodding to the two guards stationed there, he breathed in deeply when he felt the warm night air on his face. He st down, folding himself into a meditating position. He could hear faint sounds from the festival still happening down on the streets.
Closing his eyes, Aang focused on keeping his breathing regular and his mind clear. When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted with the sight of a tall figure sitting quietly opposite him, mirroring his position.
“It’s good to see you again, Avatar Kyoshi,” Aang said as he opened his eyes and saw the tall woman sitting quietly before him, mirroring his position.
She inclined her head towards him. “And you as well, Avatar Aang. What is it that you’ve come to me for?”
“Well, I…wasn’t actually seeking any Avatar out specifically this time,” Aang admitted awkwardly.
“Then most likely your issue is something that I am best equipped to help you with,” Kyoshi told him. “Please, go on.”
“I was thinking today—well, more like remembering, actually…and I just…”
Aang felt a lump start to form in his throat and scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to stave off the tears he could feel building behind his closed eyelids. “I’m sorry…”
“Take your time,” Kyoshi said gently. “I’m here for you as long as you need me.”
And that was what finally broke him.
“I just miss him so much.” Aang’s voice shuddered on his exhale and he choked out a sob.
To his surprise, he felt a pair of arms wrap him up into a soft hold. If he was in a more rational state of mind, he would have felt a bit more embarrassment at the fact that he was sobbing all over the shoulder of one of the most renowned Avatars to exist. As it were, he could only try not to shake apart in her arms.
He sat back, burying his face in his hands for a second before reappearing. “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to—”
“There’s no need to apologize, Aang,” Kyoshi informed him gently. A small smile made its way onto her face. “In fact, this is remarkably similar to how my first meeting with Avatar Yangchen went.”
Aang let out a watery laugh. It was hard to imagine a young Kyoshi sobbing her eyes out on the graceful Air Nomad Avatar.
‘Tell me what troubles you,” Kyoshi said quietly.
Aang took an unsteady breath. “When I was young, back at the Temple, I had a friend. Monk Gyatso. He was…basically a father to me. Sometimes, everything starts to remind me of him, and of the Temples, and it all just rushes back to me.” He looked up at Kyoshi imploringly. “Sometimes, it’s too much. I just…I guess I want to know if this will ever get any easier.”
Kyoshi considered him for a moment. “I lost a lot of people close to me when I was alive,” Kyoshi said somberly, “And while I will never be able to truly understand the feeling of losing your entire people, I am well acquainted with the loss of a chosen father.”
Aang looked up at her in near disbelief. “You are?”
Kyoshi sighed softly, suddenly looking like she was a million miles away. “When I was very young, my parents—who were daofei, criminals—abandoned me on the streets of my hometown, Yokoya; what is now known as Kyoshi Island. I would have almost certainly died there if I hadn’t met an Air Nomad man by the name of Kelsang.”
“He was an Air Nomad?” Aang said in wonderment. “What was he doing so far from the temples?”
“My predecessor, Avatar Kuruk, died very young. It was almost entirely unexpected, and the world quickly fell into relative chaos. No one had been prepared to search for the next Avatar so soon. Kelsang was a companion of Kuruk, and he took it on himself—with another one of Kuruk’s companions—to search using…nontraditional methods after the Earth Kingdom’s way proved unsuccessful. His theft of the Air Nomad Avatar relics, with the added strain from an attack he had sustained against a group of pirates, led to his banishment from the Air Temples.”
“Is that how he found you?” Aang asked. “Searching for the Avatar?”
“Technically, yes,” Kyoshi said with a sad smile. “I don’t remember the actual meeting, but I was told later that Kelsang and Kuruk’s other companion attempted to test me when they found me. Apparently I failed the test. The Avatar ended up being misidentified.”
“They thought…they thought that the Avatar was someone else?” Aang exclaimed.
Kyoshi nodded. “Kelsang took me in after that. He secured me a job as a servant to the Avatar. No one—least of all me—had any idea that we were living a lie.”
Aang tried to process this; it was a large amount of nearly unbelievable information. He had never heard any kind of story about Kyoshi’s past that resembled the apparent truth.
Kyoshi sighed. “When I was sixteen, several things happened that…tipped the scales. Avatar Kuruk’s other companion, Jianzhu, was not the man we thought he was. He took the misidentified Avatar and I to a powerful spirit. When it confirmed that I was the true Avatar, Jianzhu revealed his plan to shape me—through any means necessary— into the Avatar that he wanted me to be. Kelsang tried to protect me. Jianzhu murdered him in front of me.”
“That’s…I’m so sorry,” Aang said, shocked by this retelling. “Kelsang sounded like a great man.”
“He was,” Kyoshi replied. “He was kind, and he was good. He was the closest thing to a father that I ever had.” She paused, looking into his eyes. “In those regards, I think, he was very like your Monk Gyatso.”
Aang looked away, a pain forming in his chest to match the lump in his throat.
“I’ve told you about my father,” Kyoshi prompted softly. “Now you tell me about yours.”
It made his eyes sting to hear Gyatso referred to as his father. “He was always there for me when I needed him, whether it was for comfort, knowledge, fun…he was ready for anything. He was my only friend when the other kids didn’t want to be around me anymore. He made me feel safe, and loved, and I wish that I hadn’t run away from him. I wish that I had gotten to tell him how much he meant to me before he died.”
Kyoshi laid a large hand on his shoulder. “He knows,” she said, her voice low and kind. “He would be very proud of the man you’ve become, Avatar Aang. And so am I.”
Aang smiled a slightly watery smile at her. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” He laid his hand over hers. “I think Kelsang would have been very proud of you too.”
She smiled back at him, lopsided and achingly familiar; it was so much like the one that he sometimes caught in the mirror. “They may not be present with us anymore, but they will always be there in the ways that matter most.”
Kyoshi now sent him a stern glance. “And don’t think that talking to me about this gets you out of your friends helping you. Don’t make my same mistakes. Don’t isolate yourself when you’re grieving.”
“I won’t,” Aang promised sincerely. “Thank you for everything. I truly appreciate your guidance.”
“Don’t ever forget, Aang,” she said, and her eyes started to glow and her voice took on that layered quality, as if hundreds of generations were speaking through her all at once—and Aang thought he began to realize just how intimidating the Avatar could really be. “We are here for you whenever you need us. All you need to do is ask.”
And with that last sentence, her form dissolved and Aang was left somehow heartachingly empty and overflowing at the same time.
When he made his way back to his and Katara’s room, she was sitting on the bed reading and looked up with a small smile when he entered. “You alright?” she asked, probably noting the dried tear tracks on his face.
Aang sank don beside her and laced his fingers through hers. “I am. Do you have a minute to talk?”
Katara squeezed his hand. “Of course. I’m here for you whenever you need me.”