Chapter Text
Asami was bored out of her mind.
The event hall glittered in silver and gold, light reflecting off crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors. Everywhere she looked, people stood in tight circles, laughing a little too loudly and leaning in close to trade gossip about money, influence, and deals that made her tune out almost immediately. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume and champagne.
And to think they were all older than her.
Asami would rather be home studying than plastering on a polite smile for people who spoke in half-truths and practiced charm. Her cheeks already ached from forcing civility, and she’d only been there for less than an hour.
Why was she here, you ask?
Well, her father, Hiroshi Sato, had been invited as a guest by the President of the United Republic to attend the welcome gala for the new ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe and his family. Hiroshi, of course, had eagerly accepted. An opportunity to mingle with political figures—and especially representatives of the Southern Water Tribe—was not something he would ever pass up.
So here she was, standing near one of the tall cocktail tables, sipping a mocktail that tasted suspiciously like lychee juice and little else. The glass was cold in her hand, condensation dampening her fingers as she took another unenthusiastic sip. Her eyes drifted around the room, searching for her father so she could make a graceful escape before he got too absorbed in conversation.
When she finally spotted him at the far corner of the hall, he was already walking toward a small group dressed in formal Water Tribe attire—deep blues and whites, fabrics that stood out against the golden hues of the room. That had to be the ambassador and his family.
Asami straightened.
She had to act quickly. If she didn’t catch her father now, she’d be trapped here for the rest of the night.
Her heels clicked sharply against the floor as she weaved through clusters of guests, eyes fixed ahead, attention narrowed on her goal. She didn’t notice the figure crossing in front of her until it was too late.
Crash!
“Ah!” Asami yelped as her world tilted, instinctively squeezing her eyes shut as she braced for the inevitable fall. But the impact with the ground never came. Instead, she heard the sharp clatter of glass shattering against marble, followed by a soft gasp that wasn’t her own.
Then she felt warm, strong arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders, steadying her before she could even think to flail. She felt solid muscle beneath fabric, felt herself being held upright with surprising ease.
Her heart stuttered.
She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was blue.
Bright, vivid blue eyes stared back at her, wide with concern and framed by dark lashes. They were so close she could see faint freckles across sun-kissed skin, a strong jaw softened by an apologetic half-smile already forming. A clean, refreshing scent lingered around her, oddly grounding amid the heavy perfumes of the hall.
“Are you okay?” the stranger asked, her voice warm and a little breathless, as if she’d rushed to catch Asami without thinking. She gently pulled Asami upright, steadying her until she was fully on her feet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you, and I was hurrying to where my parents are and—”
“Ah. I see you’ve met my daughter.”
The voice cut in smoothly, and Asami snapped out of her daze. She turned to see her father approaching them, flanked by a tall, broad-shouldered man and a petite woman dressed in formal Water Tribe attire. The man’s presence was imposing without being intimidating, while the woman’s smile was soft and welcoming.
“Tonraq, Senna,” Hiroshi said warmly, gesturing toward her. “Meet my daughter, Asami.”
Tonraq inclined his head respectfully, Senna following suit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Senna said, her eyes kind. Tonraq’s gaze flicked between them before he added with a small smile, “And it seems you’ve… quite literally bumped into our daughter. Korra.”
The adults chuckled, their laughter light and unoffended, but Asami felt heat rush to her cheeks all the same. This was not the first impression she wanted to make, especially not in front of a family of this stature.
She bowed quickly, once to Tonraq, once to Senna, and a third time to the girl who had caught her. “I’m so sorry,” Asami said earnestly. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”
When she straightened, she found the girl—Korra—blushing as well, though she was grinning like she found the whole situation amusing. Seeing her embarrassed, too, made Asami feel a little better. And for some reason Asami couldn’t quite name, that grin, easy and genuine, made something in Asami’s chest flutter unexpectedly.
“Nah,” Korra said, waving it off. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Asami heard the words, but they faded into the background as her attention drifted.
Korra wore formal Water Tribe attire that looked warmer and heavier than the others in the room—a loose, long tunic in deep blue, the fabric thick and edged with white fur lining along the collar and sleeves. A white cloth belt was tied securely at her waist, holding the tunic in place as it fell comfortably over baggy matching pants tucked into worn brown boots. The sleeves ended just below her elbows, wide and bell-shaped, making her look both imposing and oddly relaxed, like she belonged more in cold winds and open spaces than beneath crystal chandeliers.
Half of her thick, dark brown hair was pulled back into a loose bun, practical rather than polished, with a few strands slipping free around her face. She looked out of place among the sharp suits and glittering gowns, and yet somehow, she looked more real than anyone else in the room.
Asami wasn’t sure why she noticed that.
“Asami, sweetie.” Her father’s voice snapped her back to the present.
“Yes, Dad?” she answered quickly.
Hiroshi chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “I was just telling Ambassador Tonraq about your accomplishments in science and engineering,” he said. “He was asking about your plans after graduation. What course do you plan to take? What university do you want to study in?”
Asami froze.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Plans. She had plenty of interests, ideas, and ambitions, but nothing she was ready to neatly present in front of important people. Her discomfort must have shown on her face, because suddenly, Korra’s hand closed around hers.
The contact was warm and firm, grounding.
“Actually, Dad,” Korra said smoothly, already grinning, “I was hoping to ask Asami to show me around.”
Tonraq looked at Korra for a moment, then nodded. “Go on,” he said, amused.
Korra brightened instantly. “Thanks!” She turned back to Asami, eyes shining. “Let’s go?”
Asami didn’t know why her breath hitched, or why her fingers curled slightly around Korra’s hand, but she nodded anyway.
“O-okay.”
“Thanks for that,” Asami said once they stepped out onto the balcony.
The doors slid shut behind them, muting the noise of the gala until it became a distant hum. Asami walked toward the railing, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she took in the view. Republic City stretched out before them, lights glowing against the dark like constellations fallen to the ground. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of the sea and metal.
It was cold.
Asami resisted the urge to hug herself, but she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through her shoulders. Her dress, elegant as it was, did absolutely nothing to protect her from the chill.
Before she could comment on it, Korra reached for the white cloth belt at her waist and untied it with a practiced tug. Asami blinked, confused, as Korra shrugged out of her tunic. Without the heavy fabric, the difference was immediate—broad shoulders beneath a fitted sleeveless underlayer, strong arms dusted with faint muscle definition that caught the balcony lights when she moved.
Asami realized she was staring a second too long.
Korra held the tunic out to her. “Here.”
Asami’s face heated instantly. “A-aren’t you going to get cold?”
Korra shook her head, completely unfazed. “Nah. I was born in the tundra. I’m used to it.” She rolled her shoulders slightly, as if to prove the point. “Honestly, I was getting kind of hot in there, so… yeah.”
“T-thanks,” Asami murmured, taking the tunic from her. The fabric was warm from Korra’s body, thick and heavy as she slipped it over her shoulders. It smelled faintly clean, like the one she had smelled earlier. Now she realized it was Korra. Her heart raced as she pulled it closer around herself, the weight settling in a way that made her feel unexpectedly safe.
They stood there for a moment, side by side, the city stretching endlessly below.
“I really appreciate you pulling me out of that,” Asami said quietly. “My dad means well, but sometimes it feels like he forgets I’m still figuring things out.”
Korra waved it off. “I get it.”
She leaned back against the railing, elbows resting casually behind her. The position made her arms flex slightly, muscles more pronounced beneath the lights. Asami tried very hard not to notice. She failed.
“My dad’s kinda the same way,” Korra continued. “High expectations, lots of pressure. Ambassador’s kid and all that.” She tilted her head back, looking up at the sky. “But honestly? I just want to enjoy my last year of high school. Before everything gets… serious.”
Asami listened, surprised by how easy it was. The conversation flowed naturally—from school, to classes they liked, to places Korra wanted to explore in the city. Asami found herself talking about things she usually kept to herself: how she liked working late in her father’s workshop, how she enjoyed taking things apart just to see how they worked, how she preferred quiet cafés over crowded parties. Korra listened with genuine interest, asking questions instead of interrupting, laughing softly when Asami caught herself rambling. Laughter came easily between them, and time slipped by unnoticed.
By the time they finally returned inside, Asami realized something strange. Thanks to Korra, the gala—this whole night—wasn’t boring at all.
The weekend passed more quickly than Asami expected, and somewhere along the way, she slipped into a new routine.
Before, she would finish her homework, set her alarm, and fall asleep with her mind already drifting toward the next day. Now, she found herself lying in bed with her phone held just above her face, fingers tapping out replies long after she should have been asleep. She texted Korra about small things—classes, random observations about Republic City, her mother’s cooking she missed so much—and Korra always replied with enthusiasm that felt genuine rather than forced.
Asami didn’t know why, but talking to Korra felt… refreshing. Easy. Like she didn’t have to weigh every word before sending it.
By the time Monday came, the habit had already settled in.
She was walking to school with Opal, their footsteps syncing naturally as they talked about weekend plans, when a familiar burst of laughter drifted toward them from just around the corner. It was loud, warm, unmistakable. Asami’s attention snapped to it before she even realized why.
When they rounded the corner, her suspicion was confirmed.
Korra stood a few feet away, laughing with two boys about their age. She wore a different uniform—one from a neighboring school—looser and more athletic than Asami’s, sleeves pushed up casually as she gestured animatedly while she talked.
“Asami!”
Korra perked up the moment she spotted them, lifting a hand in an enthusiastic wave. The sight made Asami’s chest tighten in a way she couldn’t quite place.
“Hi, Korra,” Asami said, returning the wave. “So… you go to—” she glanced briefly at the emblem on Korra’s uniform, “—the Aang Memorial High School?”
“Yeah!” Korra said brightly. “And you’re at Republic City High, right? That’s awesome! We’re only a block apart!”
She turned to the boys beside her. “Oh! These are my friends. This is Mako,” she said, nodding toward the taller one with sharp brows and a serious expression, “and this is Bolin. They’re brothers.”
“Nice to meet you, girls!” Bolin grinned and waved enthusiastically. Mako offered a small nod in greeting.
“We met at a basketball court over the weekend,” Korra continued. “Played a pickup game together. Turns out they’re pretty good, but I still gave them a beating.”
As they fell into step, heading toward the main road, Asami found herself watching without meaning to. Mako walked close to Korra, their shoulders nearly brushing as they talked, exchanging comments that sounded familiar, like inside jokes already formed. Every so often, Korra would glance his way, smiling easily, and something unpleasant twisted low in Asami’s stomach.
It was… uncomfortable. A strange heaviness, as if she’d swallowed something that hadn’t quite settled.
She didn’t understand it.
Opal bumped her shoulder lightly, snapping her out of her thoughts. “So,” she said, voice playful, eyes flicking between Asami and Korra, “how’d you two meet? You never told me you made a new friend.”
The word friend landed with more weight than it should have.
Asami ignored the odd feeling and shrugged. “We met at the welcome gala over the weekend,” she explained. “We just… hit it off, I guess. Became friends pretty fast.”
Her gaze drifted forward, landing on Korra’s back as she walked ahead, laughing at something Bolin said.
“Uh-huh,” Opal hummed, clearly unconvinced. Then she grinned. “You know, if I swung that way, I’d totally hit on Korra. But I’m more of a Bolin kind of girl.”
Asami forced a small laugh, even as that strange sensation lingered in her chest. Why was she feeling this way?
For the next few months, the group—quickly and enthusiastically dubbed The Krew by Bolin—made a habit of walking to school together. Even though they went to different schools, they found ways to stay connected: shared lunches when they could, weekend hangouts, late-night group chats that somehow always spiraled into chaos.
Asami was surprised by how easily they fit into her life. Mako was quiet but dependable, Bolin was the comic relief, and Opal was always the witty one. And Korra—Korra was loud, warm, and impossible to ignore. She brought energy into every space she entered, and without realizing it, Asami began to look forward to seeing her each day.
There were moments, though—small ones—that unsettled her. When Korra laughed a little longer at something Mako said. When she slung an arm around Bolin’s shoulders without thinking. When Asami arrived late and found that conversations had already started without her.
But she brushed it off easily enough. Friend groups were like that. People had histories she wasn’t part of yet.
She told herself it was just friendship. Nothing more.
Asami hoped it would stay that way. That this easy closeness, this sense of belonging, would last long after high school ended. She hoped they’d remain friends for life.
She didn’t question why the thought mattered so much, only that it did.