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“I couldn’t be more proud of my daughter.” Her father says, so proud and so happy.
This is it, Jinora thought to herself. She breathes in slowly, gathering herself, and breathes out in even intervals. Just like she’d been taught.
Just like the airbender way.
Her father is reciting his planned out speech, his renewed sense of hope strong in each word, in each look. He tries to hide how his eyes welled up with tears.
This is the restart for her people, their people.
The first time in years that an airbender is named a master. It is also the first time there are two master airbenders alive in the world, ever since Avatar Aang’s passing.
Jinora is so proud and so nervous to be here at this moment.
Everything stings. It hurts to move her limbs, still. The pain is distracting, but not overpowering. For Jinora, however, this sensation is only fleeting in the face of the importance of this moment.
Her moment.
The light blue that now colors her pale skin is a reminder of what she’s accomplished.
She became an airbending master. She has proven what she’s capable of to her father, to her people, to herself.
It’s the result of all her effort, all her studies and training. It is an honor to be able to take on the mantle and continue the path of her people.
But she does wonder, in the back of her mind, amid the pain of the tattoos: can she truly lead the way? How could someone who never met the original airbenders, one who never lived in the temples, create a path forward?
What connection can she have with her ancestors, if not purely by blood?
And then, Jinora remembers her last dream. And everything stills: the pain, the anxiety, the fear.
Only tranquility remains.
Sometimes she felt foolish, taking everything so seriously and studying assiduously while her siblings had fun and took it easy. They’d take her to relax a little, come play with them, the studies can wait.
They couldn’t — not really. Not when their father is the last master airbender alive. The only one who holds the knowledge from Avatar Aang and understands the way of their people.
(But did he really? Their grandfather, honored as he may be, only knew the Air Nomads as a child — that was the full knowledge that survived generations. What she had to work with was the memories of a child and whatever remained of decrepit buildings and old scrolls.)
There was no time to waste on games and fun. Though Jinora would move from her seat, very begrudgingly, when her mother urged her to ‘be a child, for once!’.
It felt insulting when, somehow, her younger siblings got airbending quicker and better than she did at their age. Jinora didn’t even want to remember fartbending, which is Meelo just being Meelo. But it felt so disrespectful, so wrong. This was the culture of their ancestors, and here they were, playing (literally) with gas!
Her father was more patient than she was in these times, but only then. It was her mother who felt like the true meditating master between them. Jinora was glad that she took after her in that sense; it felt a bit wrong but it was funny how her father just couldn’t get meditation right (just like grandma and, apparently, her great uncle she never met).
Jinora cared deeply about their culture and she knew how important it was to her father especially. Studying the ancient scrolls, learning how the Air Nomads once lived, visiting ancient temples… She enjoyed it, from the bottom of her heart.
It was always fun picturing how these mystic people used to live. High in the temples, even upside down (oh, what Jinora wouldn't give to life in the Western Air Temple back then), unreachable. Far away from the world’s evil and repulsiveness.
Their little island in Republic City would always be her home, but the temples always gave her a feeling of warmth, of belonging.
She could see herself living in a temple, even if she’d miss being around her siblings. The temples never felt ‘deserted’, ‘ugly’, ‘haunted’, or any such thing to her. They felt like a home that’d been empty for far too long. A place that had once been filled with laughter and love — and was waiting for that again.
And maybe it was make-belief on her part, but she felt as if the place said ‘yes, you’re always welcome here. In your home.’
Ever since she was ten years old, Jinora always ends up crying when she visits the temples.
She knew no country, nor people were perfect and, surely, the Air Nomads had their own fair share of problems.
But the thing is, one can only defend themselves if they’re here.
And the Air Nomads were already more of a myth, a lullaby story, than truth back in her grandmother’s childhood. To Katara, they were a thing of fantasy — until she met their grandfather. And to Jinora, even with all the hours she poured into her studies, they were still as mythical as her sister’s flying squirrel-unicorn drawings.
Even without knowing the truth from lies, Jinora still loved every little bit of information she could get about the Air Nomads, about their culture and way of life. She was in awe of them and everything they did. For they were still so, so very different from any other people.
They believed in freedom and zero materialism. They championed love in all forms, never to be drowned and stuck in meaningless reasons, such as that soul’s physical body in this life. A system composed of classes disgusted them (and she’s read many scrolls of the Air Nomads ruthlessly criticizing the Earth Kingdom, so they had their own sharp tongues). Jinora admired all of that.
But there were also things she didn’t quite understand. Things she knew she wouldn’t be very happy to live with, even if they were ideals of spiritually elevated individuals. Gender equality was an obvious truth to them, but they still separated men and women throughout their lives aside from festivals. Parents and children were separated as well, immediately after birth, so the Air Nomads would treat each other as family. Bloodlines meant nothing to them.
Jinora couldn’t imagine living her whole life apart from her parents and siblings or worse, not even knowing who they were. She felt it was a truly lonely existence. For all the Air Nomads got right, this seemed too… cruel, too distant for her. And she knew it was the same for her grandfather, for Avatar Aang was adamant in taking no other wives and living always with his family. Something that’d have been impossible back then.
Sometimes, Jinora felt bad for her mother, whose side of the family really didn’t hold much weight or importance for any of them. It wasn’t for lack of trying, as Jinora had always been the curious sort who asked about everything and anything. Pema herself didn’t care to discuss her family’s past and Jinora was raised to not be impolite and rudely demand answers. She knew one day they’d talk, mother to daughter, when Jinora was old enough. Even becoming a master airbender didn’t lead to this day, not yet. Jinora had an inkling as to why, with her mother always commenting on how she always longed to have a family that loved each other. They had a lovely family now and that was what mattered.
She wishes she could say it was the same for her relationship with the Air Nomads. Was having a family now that loved each other enough? Was she honoring them enough? Did they completely miss essential things that their people knew instinctively and that had been lost to time?
Those thoughts kept her up at night.
She saw her grandfather in her dreams. She knew it was him right away, with that big old grin and excited manner, like a little kid. So eager to talk to her, maybe even more so than she was. Like they were children meeting and playing at the temples for the first time. And only then she realized they'd been at a temple. Not the unkempt forests for the spirit world.
As soon as Jinora woke up, she went running to find her father, already (attempting to) meditate with his acolytes. Tenzin never jumped so high in his life or talked so loudly, as far as Jinora had seen.
“What did he say?! Did he have advice for us?? What does he think of us?” Her father asked desperately, as if an oracle had touched this earth and his answer was the only one that mattered.
In a way, it was.
Reality was often not as exciting, though.
“He showed me his pebble trick.” She supplied, laughing a bit.
Her grandpa was a well-known goofball so it shouldn’t be surprising he’d want to play and show his proudest little trick.
Tenzin was more than satisfied with that answer and laughed so much. He looked so much younger, like a child, and not the stressed man she’s always known him as. When his laughter turned into tears, he excused himself.
Jinora didn’t understand why he tried to repress emotions. It wasn’t the Air Nomads’ way. Guess that was the Water Tribe influence on its men, she wondered. But that influence was probably why her father was so intense, so loving and so zealous. She’d much prefer that to a monk, so elevated and distanced, who would never visit his family.
After that, her father would ask her if she’d seen grandpa Aang again. So eager, so curious, and also so jealous. He never worded it and was very careful not to let it show, but Jinora could tell. She had a certain intuition at times, especially regarding her family. Both alive and dead family members, that is. Too bad it didn’t translate into street smarts or socialization, though.
Her dreams remained of flying on sky bisons and seeing temples after that. Some, she could tell, were clearly based on her overactive imagination, fueled by the scrolls she always read before falling asleep.
But some dreams felt different: like she was truly there, in another time. Walking around the temples, seeing sky bison so close to her, she could smell their fur. Going up stairs and quickly jumping up, lest the unruly children bump into her. Though she had a feeling they couldn’t touch or see her. But some of the elder nuns, sitting atop the towers and eating pie, saw her — at least, it seemed that way. Seeing the Air Nomads and how they lived: always so carefree, light, and flowing. The elders seemed very stern though, and in that, they reminded her of father.
She didn’t see Aang in those dreams. Jinora couldn’t pick and choose places, but she almost always was in one of the air temples where nuns lived. The Western Air Temple, especially, had always been her favorite. And what a delight it was to float around, playing with gravity, where up and down didn’t matter. She felt like a little kid, playing around. Then, she understood what her siblings found so fun, all the time.
Jinora couldn’t allow herself to play around when awake, in reality. She had to study and understand everything, for she would be the sole knowledge keeper when her father was gone.
But in these dreams, she felt free. In a world with so many nuns and monks, she was just another airbender. Not special, not better or worse than anyone. Just a girl who wanted to live her life and enjoy it.
As much as she loved her family to pieces, Jinora wished she could stay longer in those dreams. Living with a foot in the dream world and another in Republic City. Both felt like home. As jarring as it was to wake up, she never wanted it to stop.
This was her way of contacting the past. To find out more. To understand. There was so much that had been lost in the war. Only the very basics and traditions saved by scrolls or grandpa’s memory remained, but none of the little important details: that perfect pie recipe, where sky bisons liked to take care of their young then, the intricate ritual of preparing the clothing for monks and the tattoos.
She wanted to know so much more. But it was lost to her, due to a war she had nothing to do with and never lived through. Even generations after, the war scarred her family and many others just as deeply.
Jinora didn’t have hateful feelings for anyone, really, she’d never known the Fire Lord or the generals who clamored for war back then. But she did resent the Fire Nation of old, who felt it was righteous to strike down innocents. To remove an entire culture and people from the world and justify it as a means to an end. A success, as the Fire Nation’s issued scrolls said. Those were the moments Jinora felt hatred in her heart.
But she tried to follow her grandfather’s example. She’d heard many stories of Avatar Aang, some grandiose, some silly, but one thing was for certain: he inspired her. So close to her age, and he not only ended the war, but did it following his people’s morals. Even nowadays, Jinora still hears of how the war should’ve ended with murder. That Fire Lord Ozai had to be personally punished and death was the only way. Even her grandmother and Fire Lord Zuko sometimes said that, finding it a mystery how Aang wouldn’t do it.
Only those who don’t understand the Air Nomads’ ways would say such a thing.
She didn’t personally know her grandfather, but Jinora understood why he chose another way. To end a life was unmentionable to their people’s ways, especially if induced by anger, resentment, rage, and hatred. Even if forced to end a war, her grandfather found a way to honor his ancestors. And that was the bravest and most inspiring act he could’ve done. It brought an era of peace through reconstruction and not of justice by bloodshed. Even if his friends from back then couldn’t understand the positive impact of his actions, Jinora knew the Air Nomads would. And they approved of it.
Resolving a hundred year war without bloodshed at the very end was their people’s way. A way lost to the world by the very own nation, brought down to its knees by the Avatar from the Air Nomads. Aang honored their way and kept their memory alive by doing so.
Jinora wanted to bring a little of that into today’s world.
Even if there were no more wars, many battles and fights still kept happening. The wisdom of the Air Nomads is more essential than ever at times like these.
“Family is the most important thing! Never forget to surround yourself with love.” Aang smiled at her happily after they raced to see who was fastest.
It wasn’t as fun without airbending but somehow, any game Aang came up with was fun. Seeing her grandfather as barely a teenager, the same age as her, was always a bit jarring, though. She once asked why he used that form with her and he just shrugged, saying whatever felt more natural. He’d appeared in all ages in his friends’ dreams too, he once said. The form he took was what they expected to see him as — or, more likely, hoped to see him as. Most of them forgot as soon as they awoke, sadly.
“Is now the time for wisdom? After a race?” She asks, still out of breath, laughing as she stretches on the grass.
Sky bisons move across the air from them as the clouds lazily go by. This is one of the grounds for bison herding and one of the few places next to the temples that is always empty. Jinora knows this place well. It’s now a deserted cliff next to the Eastern Air Temple. All the life she sees now won’t exist when she wakes up.
“No better time than that!” Aang laughs, also stretching on the grass. “You’re always asking for wisdom, but you know what!”
“What?” She asks, already knowing what he’ll say.
“You’re just a kid! You gotta have fun, stretch your wings!” He turns to her and smiles wildly, so childlike himself. “The world will force you to grow up and deal with a lot. So you owe it to yourself to have fun every now and then.”
And suddenly, the young kid next to her becomes the grandfather she’s seen in paintings. Wiser, older and his eyes filled with wrinkles. The wrinkles of someone who smiled a lot, quite different from those of a perpetual frowner.
Aang remains the same, just his form changes in the dream. When she sees him as wiser, he becomes like that for her. But he’s always been the same old, jokester and infinitely wise and kind avatar.
He sits up in their usual meditation position, lotus. She follows suit.
“We will only talk again after your ceremony.” He starts, seriously for once.
She’s shocked. How long will that take? Years? Will she go without seeing him and the temples until then?
Aang chuckles at her thoughts. “Don’t worry, it won’t take that long. A lot will happen and very soon… good and bad things. But keep your faith. It’ll all work out.” He smiles.
She wants to ask more but knows this is all he will say. Aang never says much about the future, even though he can see it.
“You’ll earn your tattoos. And your wings!” He laughs at his own joke and she can’t help but smile. “Remember this place, especially as they ink you. It’s not… the most fun thing in the world.”
That seems like worlds away. She has no idea when that will happen, what with them just being back from the South Pole.
Jinora holds her arms tightly. “Does it hurt?”
Aang nods. He’s never one for pretending, not in times like these. “It does. But it’s part of the process. You’re great at meditating and coming here. You can do just that for the entire thing.” He rubs her hair softly. “You’ll do great.”
She nods and smiles. This is one of the Air Nomads' ways she doesn’t quite understand. She isn’t looking forward to the pain, but she knows how important it is to her father and grandfather.
The smiling old man in front of her can always read her thoughts. She keeps forgetting that.
“You don’t need to keep everything, you know.” He says softly.
“What?”
Aang raises his arms and points to the sky bisons, “They’re no longer here.” Then at the temple. “That place remains but it’ll never be the same, Jinora.”
She tears up a bit at that. It’s true, obviously, but it hurts to hear that, especially coming from the last true Air Nomad.
“This is the past, Jinora. You’re living in the present, a new time, with all sorts of cool opportunities!” He ruffles her hair again. “I know you like it here. And we’re all happy to have you, and all your siblings, here whenever!”
She’s surprised at that. Her siblings also came here in their dreams? They never mentioned it. But then again, neither did she. Her father only knew of her talks with Aang.
“The Air Nomads’ time has passed. We’re not truly gone, we’re with you, and many other people living even now. Bending is just one sign, but there are plenty of people with the Air Nomad spirit even now.”
She knew that. The Air Acolytes were people from all over the world who believed in the Air Nomads way and threw it all away to join them at their island.
Aang, reading her mind again, laughs. “Not just them, Jinora. I mean it: all over the world, even people who have no idea about the Air Nomads! You’ll meet them all. And someone special, too.” He chuckles a bit at that.
Now, that, she really wants to ask more. Her grandfather is always giving her tips on dating and the absolute no-nos (based on his own experience), but she always thought it was something far away in the future for her. She had her studies now and, frankly, she was really awkward around boys.
Aang breathes in and out, and she follows suit. This is an important conversation, she can tell. She’ll do her best to remember all the details when she wakes up.
“The Air Nomad way isn’t lost in your time, Jinora. Plenty of people embody it, some even more than our family!” Aang laughs, thinking of his very Water Tribe-esque son. Jinora laughs as well.
“Your age is a new time. It’s the change necessary in the world. Nothing remains the same. Our old ways have to be updated, just like the other nations do.” And now, Aang looks younger, the same as the statue she sees daily. “The Air Nomads weren’t perfect, Jinora. No country or culture really is.”
It’s something Jinora thought of a lot. But she never dared say it. What if she offended her father and all her ancestors? But hearing it now, from her grandfather nonetheless, feels like a huge weight lifted off her shoulders.
“You and your siblings get to see what it was like in our time. And you’re our studious little bookworm! Reminds me of Sokka,” Aang smiles fondly at the great uncle Jinora never knew. “So take it easy. Learn what you can here, but adapt to what makes sense to you.”
“Like you did, grandpa Aang?” Choosing to have a family, relegating enlightenment, staying in materialistic Earth with all his loved ones.
“Exactly.” Aang is now older again, looking the same as the scrolls picturing him holding his firstborn, Kya. “I chose love first. And I’ll never regret that choice.”
She doesn’t know what it is, but Jinora tears up at that. Doesn’t quite understand everything she is feeling now. It’s as hazy as a dream but feels real in her heart.
“Jinora, choose what makes sense to you. Guide our people the way you see fit.” Aang continues, now her old grandfather, smiles with wisdom in his eyes. “You already make us all so proud.”
Not ‘you’ll make us proud’ but ‘you already do’.
As Jinora cries, she wakes up before she can thank him. Her siblings come rushing in, screaming there are airbenders in the world now. She wakes up in a rush and goes to join them, the dream forgotten.
Now, kneeling on the ground, as her father finishes his speech, Jinora remembers it all in vivid detail.
Oh, she really must practice more meditation to forget so many important details that grandpa Aang warned her about. But the essentials she did remember.
Her father’s words echo across the hall, “Now, let us anoint the new master who will help lead us in our new path.”
Her cape is removed and the arrow in her head, arms, rings true. As her fellow airbenders dance with air and ring the bells, and everyone watches her, she can’t contain her tears.
She hugs her father tightly. For once, she doesn’t care to be seen as childish (‘you’re still a kid!’, her grandfather’s words ring in her mind).
They are now the only two airbending masters in the world. With many more to follow.
And Jinora would be sure to show them the way, connecting past and future. Honoring her ancestors in the best way she knew — while also honoring the now and the people with her, alive in this world.
The Air Nomads weren’t lost to this world, like Aang said, just born anew. And Jinora, as well, is born anew today. In this ceremony.
She’d make her ancestors proud and bring balance to this world, in her own way.