Chapter 1: Prologue: February 20th, 20XX
Chapter Text
- February 20th, 20XX -
At some point that evening, even Ryuji’s favorite video games could no longer hold his attention. He laid supine on the couch, staring blankly up at the ceiling fan as it slowly spun dusty air around the living room. His mother was transfixed by the television. She sat in an armchair to his right, knees pulled into her chest and hands wrapped delicately around a mug of lukewarm tea. It was late at night – she must be tired, but still she was captivated by the same old drivel they were always spewing on the news.
“The Fire Nation should be embarrassed” A plain looking politician was saying. “The Avatar hasn’t gone unidentified for this long since Kyoshi over 500 years ago. A couple of years is understandable. But even Avatar Aang, who disappeared for 100 years, had been correctly identified by his Nation’s elders as a child. Avatar Korra was only three when she was identified, and Wakaba was five. Our current Avatar, whoever they may be, has now reached sixteen years old. By that age, most Avatars have already mastered their native element and should be readying themselves for public debut. But the Fire sages don’t even know who it is. Shameful.”
Several equally boring looking adults were nodding their heads. Ryuji glanced over at his mom who was still glued to the tv, cup of tea practically forgotten. He knew how much the Avatar meant to her personally, but still, how she could stand to listen to people like this was beyond him.
“It’s unbelievable.” A middle-aged woman with a shrill voice chimed in. “By the time that the Avatar is identified they’re not going to be prepared to fulfill their duties on a global stage. Think about the educational gaps they may be facing. Bending aside, Wakaba and Korra also attended some of the most prestigious schools in their countries. Not to mention the private tutoring and mentorship that they received. Our current Avatar should be touring the world right now, but for all we know they’re washing dishes in some dingy little Fire Nation café. Could you imagine? The most powerful being in the world – with access to knowledge us regular folk can’t even fathom – waiting tables or scooping ice cream like some average teenager? It’s laughable.”
“I’m more worried about what this might mean for the world.” Another man was saying. “The beginning of the Era of Kyoshi was extremely violent. Crime was at an all time high in the Earth Kingdom. Pirates and bandits terrorized the southern territories. Villages were ravaged, burned and their people sold into slavery. There’s a reason we refer to the period of time between Kuruk’s death and Kyoshi’s coming of age as the Dark Age.”
“True, but what’s your point?” The woman prompted.
“Historically, bad actors always try to take advantage of the period of time between an Avatar’s death and rebirth to fulfill an agenda they know they never would be able to accomplish should the Avatar be present.” The man explained. “Take Fire Lord Sozin, for example. He waited what? Two days after Avatar Roku’s death to invade the Earth Kingdom?”
“So you think that might happen again?” The shrill woman laughed, apparently making a joke. “You think Fire Lord Carmen’s going to roll up to Republic City and try to finish what Sozin started nearly two centuries ago?”
The people sitting around the table all began to chuckle, even the man that was the butt of the joke.
“No, no. That’s not what I mean at all.” He clarified as the chuckling died down. “I’m not suggesting we may be going to war anytime soon – simply that there will be people – greedy people – who may have been deterred from attempting to take advantage of others due to the presence of the Avatar. Now however, with the current Avatar’s prolonged absence, they might be encouraged to try something.”
“You’re talking an awful lot about this ‘something’, without really telling us what you think this ‘something’ might be.” The other man interjected jovially.
“Well, you see, that’s because I don’t know exactly what that ‘something’ might be.” The speaker quipped back, equally jovial. “I only mean to remind everyone of our history – the absence of the Avatar tends to embolden criminals who start to act without fear of significant repercussions. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the United Republic of Nations is experiencing such a drastic rise in crime. Crimes, mind you, that are largely being committed by youths who would have been very young when Avatar Wakaba was still alive.”
The table broke out into a new discussion, exchanging stories and statistics regarding the rise in domestic terrorism, police burnout, and lazy entitled young people – the same old shit every selfish adult was always spewing on about. Ryuji would quite literally rather watch anything else, but another glance in his mother’s direction was enough to confirm that they wouldn’t be changing the channel any time soon. She was eating it up, occasionally scoffing at an opinion she didn’t agree with, or nodding along when she did.
Ryuji sighed, averting his eyes from the assortment of boring adults to watch the ceiling fan spin once again. When Ryuji was a kid he didn’t really “get” the whole Avatar thing. All he understood was that every Era was named after them, and that he had to memorize a bunch of boring facts about them for history class. The whole “bending all four elements” thing sounded cool as hell, but then learning that the Avatar typically spent most of their time acting as a diplomat rather than fighting dark spirits and knocking down tyrants really killed that spark for him. Studying the Era of Avatar Szeto in school was particularly mind numbing.
Growing up, his mother would always chastise him for his indifference towards the Avatar. She had this wide-eyed admiration for the work that they did in the world. For a while there, after they had separated from Ryuji’s father and gotten set up with their new apartment, she would stay up late watching an old docu-series about the lives of past Avatars. Aang, Yangchen, Korra, Kuruk, - she loved them all. But she especially loved Wakaba. This was particularly strange to Ryuji since Wakaba had spent most of her time locked away in a lab somewhere and rarely made any public appearances.
Aang ended a world war. Yangchen prevented one. Kyoshi was badass as hell, and Korra revived the Air Nation. Of all the Avatars for his mother to favor, Wakaba seemed a strange choice. Even among other adults, she hadn’t been all that popular. Sure, people respected her. She was the Avatar after all. But Ryuji gets the sense that she was rarely involved in the world, based on the way other adults talk about her. Apparently, before he was born, there was a serious energy crisis which she helped fix. But as far as Ryuji knew, that was her only real accomplishment. She was otherwise pretty reclusive, pretty private. Uninvolved, even. Why his mom admired her so much would forever mystify him.
Growing bored of the ceiling fan again, Ryuji turned his attention back to the television.
“If I may cut in,” a bald man with glasses that Ryuji hadn’t noticed before joined the conversation. “I have a bit of a different perspective on the matter.”
The rest of the group was quick to give this new speaker their full attention.
“You spoke earlier of the Era of Kyoshi and the violence that took place during her youth. While I understand where you’re coming from with that analogy, I don’t think it truly applies to what we’re facing today. We are facing a crisis of crime to be sure, don’t get me wrong, but the crime we are seeing is largely domestic. Kyoshi dealt with slavers and bandits – people who acted without boarders all across the Earth Kindgom. These are issues that simply do not exist in the modern era. We are experiencing what can only be called domestic terrorism – our own citizens are sabotaging our society for their own misguided reasons – threatening to drag us back to the dark ages you spoke of earlier. Take the train derailment that killed ten people just last week – investigators found no evidence of international interference. It was an attack staged by our own citizens on our own citizens.
“The point that I’m trying to make here is that for the most part we, as a society, are facing internal issues. The Avatar exists to ensure peace on a global stage. Perhaps the Avatar’s absence is not an omen of bad times to come, but rather a product of our progress as a society.” The rest of the people at the table looked intrigued. To be fair to them, even Ryuji himself was a little bit curious to see exactly where the guy was going with this. It kinda seemed like nonsense to him, but at least it wasn’t the same ‘doom and gloom’ attitude that so many politicians had.
“What do you mean by that?”
“There haven’t truly been any international issues since the time of Korra – maybe we simply do not need the Avatar. Maybe this is a sign that we as a society should take responsibility for our own inernal issues and work to secure the future of this country ourselves. Without the oversight of the Avatar.”
To his right, Ryuji’s mother was scoffing over her tea. She looked irritated in a way that had Ryuji’s lips curling up at the edges.
The rest of the news people were nodding along. “That’s an interesting perspective for sure,” one of them was saying. “Though, some people might find it offensive.”
“Sensitive youths no doubt.” The man was saying, “Look, I’m not denying any of the amazing things that past Avatars have accomplished. I knew Avatar Wakaba personally, and even worked with her for a brief period of time before her unfortunate death. The Avatar has a fundamental place in this world – that was never in question. I am simply stating that we cannot rely solely on the guidance of the Avatar to shape our society. We too are capable and driven. We too – can lead, can prosper, can steer our country forward towards a brighter future.
“And for the past sixteen years, I believe, we have been going in the right direction. That’s why I find all of the panic surrounding the Avatar’s absence to be wholly unfounded. If we take a good look at how far we’ve come on our own – we see that we’re doing just fine. We don’t need the Avatar – we’ve evolved on our own.”
Ryuji’s mother was shaking her head and scowling, but the people on TV were nodding thoughtfully. Frankly, Ryuji didn’t know where he stood. He got what the guy was saying – society shouldn’t solely rely on an all-powerful spirit to maintain peace and stability in the world. But also… wasn’t the Avatar like… nature itself? Like… part of the fabric of reality? That did kind of seem necessary.
“Thank you Councilman Shido, you’ve given us a lot to think about.” The woman was saying. “Now let’s get some insight from one of the Fire Sages. On the line, directly from the Fire Nation we have Fire Sage Lavensa. Lavensa can you hear us?”
“Yes, I can.” A soothing, youthful voice floated from the speakers. There was no accompanying video.
“First of all, thank you for being here with us today – on the anniversary of Avatar Wakaba’s death. We’re wondering – as a spiritual leader and a citizen of the Fire Nation, what is your take on the absence of the Avatar? Is it nothing to worry about? Or an omen of bad times to come?”
The Sage, Lavenza, chuckled gently. Even without her face being broadcasted, Ryuji got the sense that she had a very peaceful energy – it radiated from just the sound of her voice. “Well,” she started. “I’m not sure that I agree with either of those statements. It is certainly not good that the Avatar has yet to be identified, but it isn’t something to be concerned about either. You see, during a time of great crime, turmoil, and political instability – Kyoshi was born to a pair of bandits. As the Air Nomads faced genocide, Aang found himself in a situation that led to his being frozen and then revived – ensuring that the Avatar, and airbenders alike, would live on. And as the world approached a period of great intellectual inequality, Wakaba was born a scientist.
“These might not seem like equal comparisons to draw, however the list goes on. When the world needed a hunter, we got Kuruk. When the world needed a diplomat, we got Yangchen. When the world needed a teacher, we got Roku. I can see why some people are concerned and others are not. This debate exists even among the scholars at the Fire Temples. Should we fear for the worst? When the Avatar is discovered will they be able to handle these sudden, new responsibilities? These are all valid concerns but… I shall leave you with one piece of wisdom – something that after years spent studying the Spirit World, and the history of the Avatar, I believe confidently, wholeheartedly, without a shadow of doubt.
“The Avatar is always – always – born into the exactly correct circumstances to serve the needs of their time.”
Chapter 2: April 9th, 20XX
Chapter Text
- Saturday April 9th, 20XX -
The pavement glistened, spraying fresh drops of water up into the misty air as black tires rolled to a stop in front of a large modern-looking concrete building. Beyond a tall iron gate, a series of empty planters lined a wide staircase leading up to the building’s main entrance – doors set in glass. It was too early in the spring for anything to be growing yet, so everything was a dull, cloudy gray. To most, the building looked like exactly what it was – a high school. To Akira, however, it seemed more like a prison.
“Alright kid, here we are.” The man behind the wheel said, shifting into park. “Shujin Academy.”
The drive into Republic City from West Air Temple Village had been long and silent. Between the tearful goodbye from his mother, the cold shoulder of his probation officer, and the persistence of the spring rain, the whole trip had been rather somber. The sight of Shujn Acadamy, looming tall gray and gated against a stormy backdrop, failed to inspire in Akira any hope that the upcoming year away from home would be anything other than unbearably lonely.
As the driver-side door slammed shut, Akira jolted into action. As much as he wanted to stay seated and hidden from the judgment of the uncaring, distrustful adults in whose hands he’d be placing his life, there was no use delaying the inevitable.
He swung his door open and stepped out into the rain.
Hardly giving Akira any time to brace himself, Office Li handed him his luggage, nodded towards the school entrance and began walking at a brisk pace. Akira scrambled to follow him, hobbling up the stairs after him as his probation officer raced forwards as if he were trying to lose him. By the time he reached the top of the steps, Akira was winded. Gingerly he set his suitcase down, eager to roll it the rest of the way and hoping there wouldn’t be any more wet staircases in his near future.
Inside, the school looked like any other – blank white walls lined with lockers, wooden floors, fluorescent lights. The only real difference between this school and the one he went to back home in West Air Temple Village, was that Shujin was considerably larger. No surprise, considering it was located in the third largest city in the world after Ba Sing Se and Hari Bulkan. The academic building alone was at least three times the size of Akira’s entire high school. And that was just one building. Shujin had three – one for academics, one for sports and bending, and one for administration. Currently, Officer Li was leading him in the direction of the administrative building.
They walked across a roofed bridge that cut across some kind of courtyard. Akira looked around, taking note of future places he might be able to relax unbothered should things at school take a turn for the worst.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of walking, they arrived at their destination: the principal’s office.
Officer Li knocked on the door. “Mr. Kobayakawa? It’s Li, we spoke on the phone.”
“Come in!”
Officer Li held the door open for Akira, who entered with practiced neutrality. Behind the desk sat a large bald man wearing a mustard-yellow blazer. Presumably, this was principal Kobayakawa. He assessed Akira with a look of grim curiosity, smiling in a way that was likely meant to be friendly but didn’t quite meet his eyes – strained. To his left stood a young woman with frizzy, shoulder length hair. She was outwardly displeased, head tilted downward. It seemed she was intentionally avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Hello Officer Li,” Kobayakawa stood, offering a hand to Li, who politely accepted. Then, he turned his attention to Akira, suddenly stern. “And this must be Kurusu-kun. Welcome to Shujin Academy. I hope you know just how lucky you are to be here. We pride ourselves on being one of the best schools in Republic City. Our academics are top-notch and our athletic department is unmatched. Parents send their kids from all over the city just to get an education here. If it weren’t for your excellent academic record and Air Nomad ancestry, we wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of accepting you . However, your case manager made a good argument on your behalf – that this was a fluke incident – perhaps a psychiatric episode of some sort or a side-effect of that medication you’ve been on. We hope she was right.”
Kobayakawa paused as if waiting for a response. Akira simply nodded to acknowledge that he was listening, deeply conscious of the fact that everyone was staring at him.
After another moment of awkward silence, in which Kobayakawa stared him down as if he weren’t really sure what to make of him, he continued. “To reiterate, just so we’re clear, you will be immediately expelled if you cause any problems. In my opinion, you’re nothing but a liability… but we have our public image to consider, and the schoolboard believes the successful rehabilitation of a delinquent will raise our social status. Just remember, whatever you might’ve gotten away with in your hometown… those days are over. If you are thrown out from our school, there will be no place for you to go. Keep that in mind.”
Then, Kobayakawa turned to his left, finally acknowledging the downtrodden young woman.
“This is the teacher in charge of your class.” He stated simply.
For the first time since Akira had entered the room, the woman lifted her eyes. “I’m Sadayo Kawakami.” She introduced herself. Her voice was soft, and she spoke with considerably more kindness than Kobayakawa had. Still though, her lips slanted downward, her body angled away, and her arms crossed her chest in a tight lock. Everything about her posture conveyed disapproval.
Akira did his best to maintain a neutral expression, hands firmly in his pockets and eyes hidden behind thick lenses. He’d already gotten the lecture from his probation officer, so he knew people would be guarded around him. But still, he was unused to being treated with so much blatant hostility – especially at school. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from frowning, Akira braced himself for whatever admonishment would come next.
However, instead of launching another lecture, Kawakami handed him his student ID and began to outline the school guidelines. “Be sure to read the school rules.” She said, “Any violations will send you straight to the guidance office. And, if by chance you cause any problems, I won’t be able to protect you at all…. That is your promise, right, Principal Kobayakawa?”
At this statement, she turned her attention away from Akira and back to the principal.
“That was the agreement, yes.” Kobayakawa affirmed. “He is responsible for all his own actions.”
This response didn’t seem to appease Kawakami. She tsked, averting her gaze once more as her mouth set in a hard line. “But really though? Why me? There had to have been better candidates.”
“Yours was the only class that had an opening.”
Kawakami sighed in defeat, her look of displeasure only growing. “Alright then, we better get started. Officer Li, Kurusu-kun, I’ll show you to the boy’s dormitory.”
“Thank you, Kawakami-san.” Kobayakawa said. “I’ll let you take it from here. Oh and Kurusu – behave yourself. We’ve given you a great opportunity for a second chance. Don’t squander it.”
“Yes sir.” Akira responded dutifully. He may have family among the Air Nomads, but his parents had both been Fire Nation, and the Fire Nation valued duty and honor. He’d handle this year of exile as gracefully as possible – and hopefully be on a train back home before he knew it.
Kobayakawa huffed at the politeness of his response and waved his hand, dismissing the group. Officer Li, Kawakami, and Akira all stepped out into the hall, door sliding closed behind them.
“Well,” Officer Li said, addressing Kawakami with a smile. “He’s in your good hands now, Kawakami-san. Remember, Kurusu, I’ll be checking in with the school monthly to see how you’re doing. I’ll also be visiting Shujin once a semester to see you in person. For the time being, you are not permitted to contact your family, as the investigation is still ongoing. Should we find out you’ve been in communication with any of them, that will count as a violation of your probation and you will be sent to junior detention. Understood?”
Akira fought to keep the frown off of his face, unsure of why he needed another reminder. As if he would forget the court’s cruel sentence, the danger in which he’d placed his entire family – that it was all his fault.
“Yes sir.”
Officer Li frowned. It seemed no matter how obedient he tried to be, there would always be something to disapprove of.
With one final nod to Kawakami, Officer Li took his leave.
“Alright then,” His new teacher sighed. “follow me.”
Surprisingly, she lead him back the same way he’d come – towards the front entrance and out the door.
“Um…” Akira started, once again facing the ordeal of having to tackle that dreaded wet staircase with his luggage. “Are the dorms not connected?”
“No.” Kawakami said, pulling out her umbrella. “Most of our students commute from close by, so we don’t have a need for a large building of our own. However, there’s an old hotel up the street that we bought and renovated about twenty years ago for the use of any students that might have a longer commute. Of course, these students typically still have families in the city – they just stay here for convenience and tend to go home on the weekends. Of course, that doesn’t mean you will be unsupervised, so don’t go getting any ideas.”
Kawakami’s voice was stern, even as she watched him struggle to carry his suitcases down the stairs without slipping. Then, abruptly, as he reached the bottom of the steps she asked, “Do you have an umbrella?”
“Um…” Akira pointed at his suitcase dumbly, hoping he conveyed his meaning as the rain continued to pummel him.
“Of course,” Kawakami sighed. “Let’s get going then so you can unpack. This way.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, until finally they turned a corner and stopped under an awning.
“Here we are.” Kawakami said. “Take out your student ID. You can scan it to get into the building.”
Just as she said, Akira was able to scan his ID and unlock the front door. Kawakami held it open for him, and Akira thanked her quietly as he pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, shivering a bit at the rush of cool, dry air from inside.
“Alright, now show your ID to the man behind the desk. Very good. You’ll have to show your ID every time you come home, so don’t lose it. See the elevators ahead? You’re on the second floor.”
The elevator was slow to arrive. As it did, it screeched somewhat unpleasantly. Still, he stepped inside alongside Kawakami and pressed the button for floor two. When it started moving again, it rattled a bit, and Akira silently thanked whoever it was that decided to put him on floor two – he was never taking this elevator again. It was stairs for him from here on out.
Kawakami grumbled under her breath as the fluorescent light flickered, and Akira wondered if she was thinking the same thing.
“Thank god,” she said when the doors finally opened again. “This way.”
She led him down the hall, stopping at a door labeled “21” and pulling out a key. Unlocking the door, she led him inside.
As he expected, the room was small and plain. The walls were all painted white, the floors a cold gray tile. To his right there was a door which upon quick investigation, revealed a small connected bathroom – at least that was a perk.
What he wasn’t expecting, however, was the second bed. Or the obvious signs of another person already living here – like the stack of books on the desk, charging laptop, and collection of sports posters from teams Akira didn’t know or follow stuck haphazardly to the walls.
Kawakami gestured towards the unclaimed bed. “Alright, Kurusu-kun, here it is. There’s a minifridge in the corner there, and a communal kitchen at the end of the hall. You can use it whenever you like just be sure to clean up. It looks like your roommate has already settled in. I’m sure he’ll be back tomorrow night to get ready for classes on Monday. Please try to get along. If there are any problems, you know who they’ll blame… so just – behave, okay? Oh, and there are security cameras in the main lobby and halls – so don’t even think about trying anything okay? That means no parties, no girls, no drugs – nothing that could get you flagged for bad behavior. Also, curfew is at 8pm. Your probation officer will be informed if you break it. Understood?”
As Akira nodded, several drops of water flung from the ends of his hair. If Kawakami noticed, she didn’t say .
“Good,” She said instead, handing him his room key. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
With that, Kawakami turned to leave, and for the first time in weeks, Akira was left by himself.
Strangely, it doesn’t make him feel much better.
Instead, Akira finds himself overcome with a wave of dread – one that he can’t quite rationalize. After all, this is supposed to be a new start – and his probation will only last a year. As long as he’s good, as long as he behaves… he can go home.
Unzipping his suitcase, the first thing Akira pulls out is a framed photograph. The picture is one of his favorites – it was taken by a colleague of his father’s, back when they were living on Ma’inka Island. It was summertime, and his father had permitted Akira to join him on one of his shoots for the very first time. They had been camping in the highlands when Akira had one of his episodes. He ended up wandering way up into the mountains before he woke up – and when he did he’d had no idea how to find his way back to camp.
But he also wasn’t alone. Unbeknownst to him, he’d been followed by a pair of black panda leopard cubs. Floored, Akira simply took a seat on the rocky earth only to deepen his bafflement as the cubs climbed into his lap and started nosing at him like he was the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen. As far as he knew panda leopards were an endangered species – and highly elusive. Not even his parents had seen one in person before, and they’d been working in conservation for longer than Akira had been alive.
Eventually, one of the cubs started nipping at his shirt, tugging him towards the cliff. Strangely unafraid, Akira allowed himself to be pulled along. Peering over the cliff’s edge, Akira spotted what appeared to be the cub’s mother – alive but with an obviously broken leg. Instead of running for help like a normal eleven-year-old should have done, Akira had opted to scale the cliff. There was just something about the mother – laying there panting and scared, unable to move – that pulled Akira forward. He landed next to her, spoke to her gently even though there was no way she understood what he was saying – although thinking back, maybe she did, because when he stroked the fur between her eyes, she didn’t nip, didn’t flinch, didn’t even growl. Instead, she met his gaze head on, licked the tip of her nose, and let her head fall back into the palm of his hand.
Akira sat with her and the cubs until sunrise, when his father’s frantic yelling reached his ears.
Akira remembers calling back – alerting his father to his location. He remembers the relief and the terror written all over his face when he finally spotted Akira at the base of that cliff, dangerously close to a wild animal. He remembers stubbornly refusing to leave until help arrived for the black panda leopards, and his father’s exasperation. He remembers being pulled into the tight embrace of his father’s arms when he finally separated from the leopards, the way he hovered close by for the rest of the day, the way he stroked his hair and whispered, fond and angry all at once, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
And, he remembers this picture – the two of them back at Ma’Inka Wildlife Rescue Center, each holding one of the cubs and smiling wide, his mother throwing up a peace sign from way in the background.
It was a fond memory – or it used to be. As Akira stared at the picture now, all he felt was dread.
It would only be a year. As long as he’s good, as long as he behaves… he can go home.
Akira’s throat tightened, vision growing blurry.
Home….
Somewhere deep down, Akira knew the truth – he would never go home again.
Setting the photo down on his bedside table, Akira turned to examine his roommate’s posters. Most of them seemed to depict some type of runner. How fitting, he thought.
For his entire life, even before the incident that led him here, even during the good times, like up in the mountains with his dad, Akira had felt this sense of impending disaster. Sure, sometimes it wasn’t as prominent as others, but it always caught up to him, one way or another – it always came back. And every time it did, Akira would run. First, he ran to his parents who distracted him and stroked his hair and let him sleep in their bed. Until the nightmares got too bad. Then he ran to the doctors, who put him on anxiety meds and said it was depression, no actually schizophrenia, no actually it appears to be some sort of sleep disorder. And while the meds kept the nightmares at bay, that terrible creeping feeling always came back. So, he threw himself into his studies, picked up baseball, volunteered at the Zoo with his mother, and jumped at every opportunity he got to travel with his dad. He kept running.
You’d think that feeling of impending doom would be gone now – after all hasn’t it finally caught up to him? Wasn’t his arrest and probation the “disaster” he’d felt chasing him his entire life? Is this not the exact scenario he’s been running from?
It’s not. Akira pulls off his wet shirt and grabs a dry one from his suitcase. It’s something else.
It’s something worse.
After he finishes unpacking, Akira is at a loss for what to do next. Feeling kind of gross from the rain, he opts to take a quick shower. Too tired from his travels, he decides to forgo dinner for the evening and turn in early. He towel-dries his hair, sets his alarm, and swallows one of his sleeping pills before climbing under the covers.
Still, the feeling nags at him. It's catching up.
As his head hits the pillow, the full force of his exhaustion overcomes him. He takes a deep breath, praying, like he always does, for a dreamless night. Then, with a bit of hesitation, he closes his eyes.
We’re running out of time, you know. A woman’s voice lulls him to sleep. She's spoken to him every night for the past four years. He thinks he knows her, but he can never recall how. It won't be as bad as you think, she says.
Consciousness fading, Akira nuzzles his face into his pillow. “I’m not ready yet.” He mumbles. “I’m not ready….”
Showing great mercy, darkness finally takes him.
Chapter 3: April 10th, 20XX
Chapter Text
Sunday, April 10th 20XX
With no one to talk to, Akira decides to spend the majority of the day exploring. There isn’t much to do around Shujin Academy. The surrounding area is mostly comprised of offices, banks, and government buildings. There are a few shops here and there, and Akira does manage to find a nice place to buy groceries, but overall, there’s no good way to pass the time. No arcades or movie theaters or parks. Just buildings.
Overwhelmed by the sheer size of the city, Akira chooses to spend the rest of the day inside preparing for school. He packs his lunch, organizes his books, reviews the curriculum, and sets out his uniform. Once he’s completed all of his necessary tasks, he sits down to mindlessly scroll on his phone for a while. Eventually, he gets so bored that he actually cracks open one of his textbooks and starts studying ahead.
The majority of the day is uneventful, peaceful even. Until about 6pm sharp when his roommate finally shows up.
The door swings open so abruptly Akira actually jumps in surprise. His roommate doesn’t notice right away though, too busy loudly talking with someone on the phone.
“I know dad, wh- yeah, I know. I know. I’m working on it. I know. I’ll see you next weekend. Bye.”
The guy pockets his phone, muttering something under his breath as he kicks off his shoes. Then, just as suddenly as he arrived, he looks up and spots Akira sitting cross-legged on his bed.
“FUCK - !” The guy startles, looking shocked. “You scared the hell out of me. How long have you been there?”
“Uh,” Akira starts, “I’ve been here all day. I would have said something when you came in, but you were on the phone…. I’m Kurusu Akira by the way. Your new roommate.”
“Oh.” The guy purses his lips. “That’s right they told me I’d be getting a roommate this year. I’m Takeishi. Sorry for yelling I was just surprised.”
To his credit, Takeishi seems to recover easily enough. He drops his school bag on the floor next to his bed and starts to make himself comfortable.
“No worries.” Akira says, gingerly closing his textbook. Kawakami’s words from the day before return to the forefront of his mind. Try to get along. If there are any problems, you know who they’ll blame.
“You a second year too?” Takeishi, thankfully, seems friendly enough.
“Yeah.”
“Oh really? We haven’t had any classes together before have we? I don’t think I recognize you.”
“Oh no, I just transferred here.”
“Really? I – oh. Oh. You’re the new transfer student?” Takeishi turns to him now with his full attention. He assesses Akira with a strange look on his face. His shoulders tense, his mouth settles into a flat line, and his eyes bug out ever so slightly. The energy seems to have changed somehow, but Akira can’t for the life of him figure out what went wrong. Is there some weird city etiquette he doesn’t know about?
He tries to elaborate. “Yeah, I am. I’m originally from the Fire Nation but my family moves around a lot. I’ve lived in parts of the Earth Kingdom too but for the past three years we’ve been in The United Republic of Nations.”
“Oh uh… cool….” Takeishi’s suddenly very interested in a thread that’s hanging off the cuff of his sleeve.
“Yeah….” Akira trails off. “I see you’ve got a lot of posters up. You into sports?”
“Oh… uhuh.” Takeishi squirms a little.
Akira blinks. Well, this is weird. “Cool.” He says, “I play baseball.”
Takeishi doesn’t even bother to use his words. He just nods and starts fiddling with his phone.
After a weirdly long pause, Akira tries again. “How about you?”
“No, I don’t really play anything. Not anymore.”
“Ah….” Akira nods slowly, somewhat annoyed. It seems his roommate has already decided to dislike him after only thirty seconds of conversation. He can’t fathom what he said wrong. There’s no reason for him to be so cold unless… unless he somehow knows about his record? But that shouldn’t be possible. Only the staff is supposed to know about that.
Weird.
He and Takeishi don’t speak for the rest of the evening. At one point, Takeishi even leaves for a little while without explaining where he’s going or what he’s doing. He doesn’t return until around the time Akira’s getting ready for bed, and when he does the only acknowledgement he offers is a small nod in greeting. Akira returns it with only a little bit of hesitation, before turning to his drawer to grab his sleeping pills, paying Takeishi no mind.
Once he’s settled into bed, he turns to find Takeishi just sort of… staring at him. His expression is hard to discern, but regardless, it makes him kind of uncomfortable.
“Uh….” Akira says, “Goodnight, man.”
This seems to snap Takeishi out of whatever funk he was in. “Night.” He replies tersely, climbing into his own bed and turning off the lights.
Plunged once more into darkness, that feeling of dread returns, even more urgent than it was the night before. More urgent, it seemed, than it has ever felt before.
Akira sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. Now was not the time for this. He has to keep it together in front of Takeishi, who, for some reason, already hated him. He doesn’t want to start off the semester as the weird night terror kid. So, it was absolutely not the time for this.
When is? The woman’s voice was back.
Akira ignores her. His breath quickens. No nightmares tonight, he begs. Not tonight. Please.
You’ll have to face it eventually, you know. You can’t run forever. The voice responds, gentle, even if the words are harsh.
Face what? Akira wonders, eyes growing heavy as the medication kicks in.
Butterflies dance behind his eyelids. Don’t you already know?
For what would be the last night for a long, long time, Akira is blessed with a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 4: Morning of April 11th 20XX: The First Day of School
Chapter Text
Monday, April 11th
On the morning of his first day of school, Akira wakes up to an empty room. Considering that Takeishi’s backpack is missing, Akira assumes that he left early.
It’s raining again, so after Akira has finished getting ready, he makes sure he grabs his umbrella. He pauses at the door, exhaling deeply with his hand wrapped around the handle. Memories of his strange interaction with Takeishi flash through his mind, and Akira’s mouth curls downwards. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, letting his bangs obscure his eyes. Then, with a quick shake of his shoulders, he secures his school bag and holds his head high, pulling the door open and stepping out into the hallway.
It’s only one year, he reminds himself.
There are a few other students walking about. Most of them seem to know each other. They chatter on the way down to the main lobby, paying Akira no mind.
Once outside, most of the other students immediately rush out into the rain. Akira, however, pauses under the awning to pull out his umbrella. He watches the group of boys shove each other playfully and disappear around a corner. He leans back against the side of the building, still staring after them.
Impending disaster.
The feeling has returned. Akira furrows his brows, frowning a little. The feeling usually doesn’t catch him like this in the middle of the day. Usually, it creeps up on him in the evening, if at all. But now, as he watches the retreating backs of his new classmates, his heart hammers, his throat tightens, and his hands begin to shake.
Something stirs in his chest. Jealousy?
A sudden splash to his right snaps Akira out of his self-pitying. He turns towards the sound and blinks in surprise. A girl has joined him under the awning.
The first thing he notices is her hair. It’s unusually pale in a way that’s only seen in the people living in the southernmost part of the Earth Kingdom. She shakes her head, untucking the long blonde strands from under the collar of her blazer and letting the ends of her ponytails spill over her shoulders with a gentle curl. Finally noticing Akira’s staring, she turns to look at him. She smiles, offering a friendly wave before returning her attention to her phone. Akira waves back and tries to look away, as to not be too creepy. It’s hard though; she’s unbelievably pretty – her eyes a shade of blue that he has never seen in person before. She doesn’t look like the people of Republic City, which is largely a blend of Northwestern Earth and Fire Nation people. Of course, he knew in theory that people from all over the world settled here. But still, he wasn’t prepared to see that for himself firsthand.
Now, his heart hammers for another reason altogether. He stands there, under the awning with the beautiful girl, unsure of what to say.
But before he’s able to gather up enough courage to offer his umbrella to her, a car pulls up along the curb.
“Hey there!” A deep, friendly voice calls out. A middle-aged man pokes his head out of the window. He has dark eyes, dark hair, and a strong jawline. If Akira had to guess, he’d say the man was Fire Nation, based on looks alone. “Need a ride to school?”
“Oh um,” The girl replies, ducking her head a little. She glances in Akira’s direction once, almost bashfully, before turning to nod towards the dark-haired man. “Sure, that would be great. Thanks.”
Not sparing him another glance, she runs across the sidewalk and slides into the passenger seat of the man’s car, closing the door behind her. Surprisingly though, the man turns his attention to Akira.
“How about you? Want a ride?”
“Oh um, no thanks!” Akira calls back, unsure why he turned down the kind offer. The tightness in his chest returns with a vengeance. As the man drives away, Akira exhales in relief.
Just as Akira is about to pull himself together and start walking towards school, he is distracted by the sound of someone running. Another kid in a Shujin uniform chases after the car, splashing Akira a little as he sprints by.
When the car turns a corner, the kid curses to himself and stomps. “Dammit…. Screw that pervy teacher.” He mutters under his breath.
“Pervy teacher?” Akira wonders aloud, finding his voice again.
The kid turns to him with a startled expression, like he hadn’t even noticed Akira standing there. From the way he’d been running earlier, Akira wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
The new guy’s look of surprise only lasts for a second, however, before he rearranges his features into an expression of such open hostility that Akira actually takes half a step back.
“What do you want?” The guy approaches slowly. He’s frowning, hands in his pockets, and staring at him like he’s ready for a fight. “You plannin’ on ratting me out to Kamoshida?” He challenges, shoulders squared, brows lowered, nostrils flaring.
Akira feels a cold wave of irritation wash over him. He hasn’t even started his first day of school and he’s already making enemies? First Takeishi and now this guy? Did he just… radiate loser to these people? Or could they just clock an outsider from a block away? Either way, Akira swallows his pride and does his best to focus on something small and inoffensive… something that won’t get him sent straight to juvey three days into his probation.
“Kamoshida?” He asks. He’s genuinely confused, but in all honesty, he really doesn’t care to know any more that he already does. He just wants to deescalate the situation, put his head down and get to school already.
“Huh?” The guy looks at him like he’s got two heads. “That guy in the car just then. That was Kamoshida.”
The guy scoffs, staring off to the side where the car had been moments before. He looks pissed again, but at least this time it’s not directed at Akira. “He does whatever the hell he wants. Who does he think he is – a king? He’s a total asshole. Don’t you agree?”
“He thinks he’s a king?” Akira asks, feeling dumb.
“No, no, I mean – ” The guy pauses and really takes a look at Akira. The hostility from earlier has faded away, but the discerning look the guy’s giving him has Akira on edge all over again. After a moment of intense staring, something seems to click for him. He shifts his weight onto one leg, crossing his arms and staring Akira down with a vaguely judgmental frown. “Wait… you don’t know Kamoshida? Are you for real? You’re from Shujin right?”
“You go to Shujin too?” Is the only reply Akira can muster, as thrown off as he is by this whole interaction.
“Uh, yeah?” The guy scoffs. “What do you mean? No other school’s got a uniform like this. What year are you?”
“A second year.” Akira replies.
“Huh,” The guy starts, “we’re in the same grade then. I’ve never seen you before though…. Oh! You that new transfer student?”
Akira nods, relieved that the new guy doesn’t seem hell-bent on picking a fight with him anymore. Surprisingly, as opposed to Takeishi the other night, this guy doesn’t seem to be put off by the fact that Akira’s a transfer student. Instead, he continues the conversation with considerably more warmth than before.
Weird.
“Oh! Then no wonder you don’t know him.” He changes the subject. “Well, this rain ain’t letting up anytime soon. We better hurry up or we’ll be late. Come on, I’ll show you the way.”
“Oh cool… thanks.”
Finally moving out from under the awning, Akira observes his new classmate. The guy was a little bit shorter than him and was definitely not following the dress code. For one thing, his jacket was fully unbuttoned, revealing a bold graphic tee as opposed to the plain white turtlenecks all of the students were supposed to be wearing. Additionally, his hair was bright yellow. Unlike the girl from earlier, whose hair was obviously natural, his was clearly dyed. Akira was surprised the school let him in looking the way he did, considering how much grief they’d given him about following all the rules.
When they arrive at school, the guy turns to him and, with the brightest, sincerest grin Akira has experienced in a long time, announces “We’re here! Shujin Academy. It was nice meeting you, dude. Good luck with everything.”
Akira thanks him and they go their separate ways. Warmth blossoms in his chest, loosening the knot of anxiety that’s been with him all morning. Maybe Shujin wouldn’t be so bad? Regrettably, Akira had neglected to ask the boy his name, too caught off guard by the anger that he had exuded in the first few moments of their meeting. Although, maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe they’d have class together? Akira hoped so. He’d like to be friends.
As Akira makes his way to the faculty office to check in with Ms. Kawakami, he can feel eyes on him. When he looks around, no one will meet his gaze. At first, he assumes that the other students are just absorbed in their own worlds. That is, until he overhears a couple of girls whispering to each other.
“Is that the new transfer student? The guy that walked in with Sakamato?”
“Yeah, it totally is. I heard he stabbed someone. Of course he’d be hanging around Sakamato already. I can’t believe they let someone like that in our school.”
Akira’s blood rushes cold. They… knew about his record? They thought he’d stabbed someone? No wonder Takeishi was so weird with him the other night. What other sorts of rumors have been circulating about him?
This doesn’t bode well for him.
When Akira enters the faculty room, even some of the teachers turn to whisper to each other.
“Kawakami-san?” Akira timidly approaches her desk. The good mood that the boy with the dyed hair (Sakamato?) put him in earlier has been completely shattered. He tries not to hunch his shoulders too much. He’s not sure he succeeds.
“Ah… Kurusu, you’re here.” Kawakami sighs, gathering her things. “Well, let’s get this over with. Follow me and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the class.”
Akira complies, following his teacher to their classroom. Upon entering, the students’ chatter dies down.
“Settle down.” Kawakami orders, taking her place behind the podium at the front of the class. Akira stands to her side, facing the rest of the class. All eyes lock on him, not one person looking friendly. “I’d like to introduce our new transfer student. This is Akira Kurusu. He’ll be joining us for the rest of the year. Alright… please say something to the class.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Akira says, thankful that he doesn’t stutter.
“He seems normal….” One girl whispers.
“I bet its an act.” Another student responds. “He acts quiet… but then when he loses it…. I mean, he was arrested for assault.”
“Um, so….” Kawakami interjects before the whispers can get too out of hand. “You’ll be sitting at that open desk in the back there. Thank you Kurusu-kun. Now please take your seat.”
Ignoring the hushed voices of his classmates, Akira moves towards his seat. As he looks up, he notices, for the first time, that the pretty girl from earlier that morning would be sitting in front of him. As he passes her, she mutters something that he doesn’t catch.
“Huh?” He asks. She pointedly turns away, looking out the window.
Feeling stupid, Akira takes his seat.
“Did you see that?” More whispers reach his ears. “They totally know each other. Do you think he hit on her before school started?”
“No way. That would mean she’s cheating on Mr. Kamoshida.”
“Well, this is Takamaki we’re talking about.”
Huh. Akira spins a pen across his fingers. That explained Sakamato’s ‘pervy teacher’ remark from earlier.
Soon enough, Kawakami begins their first lesson, effectively silencing his classmates’ budding gossip. Thankful for the distraction, Akira puts his head down, opens his book, and hopes the rest of the day goes better.
The rest of the day does not get better. In fact, arguably, it only gets worse.
For starters, during the breaks between class periods, no one would interact with him. At one point, a group of girls even jumped and ran away when he dared to ask them where to find the cafeteria.
The rumors get progressively worse too. As the day goes on, the initially accurate rumor that he was on probation for assault gradually becomes more and more outlandish. He’s overheard people stating that he beat up an ex-girlfriend, that he was arrested for arson, that he was caught selling drugs to kids at the park, that he actually killed a guy. The fact that he’s not a native-born United Republic of Nations citizen gets out too (likely courtesy of Takeishi) and people start wondering why he wasn’t simply deported.
Also courtesy of Takeishi is the new rumor that, apparently, Akira was a hardcore drug addict.
“I heard from Takeishi-kun that he caught the transfer student taking pills in their dorm last night.” Akira overhears seconds after exiting the classroom for lunch.
“Really? Do you think he used to deal or something?”
“Shh! He’s coming this way!”
He scoffs out loud at that, causing another group of students to stare at him anxiously, as if he were seconds away from going crazy and attacking them.
By the time lunch rolls around, Akira has resigned himself to the fact that he’ll be eating alone for the foreseeable future. He grabs the lunch he packed for himself out of his locker and is about to go looking for a quiet place to eat in silence when Kawakami stops him.
“Kurusu-kun,” she says, that same, perpetually grim expression on her face. Once he’s allowed himself to be pulled to the side of the hallway, she continues. “Uhm… it seems the reason for your transfer has gotten out. I’m… sorry about that. I’m not the one who told them about you but… just… try not to let it get to you. And don’t get into any more trouble. I heard you were seen with Sakamato-kun this morning. I’d hate for you to develop an even worse reputation.”
Akira flounders for a moment, unsure of what to say. It seemed like Kawakami was trying to look out for him, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way. Still, she was a lot kinder than most of the other adults here, so Akira decides to probe her for more information.
“Sakamato? You mean the boy with the dyed hair, right?”
She sighs. “Yes. Don’t get involved with him, okay? He’s nothing but trouble. Didn’t used to be like that when he was devoting his time to track and field though…. Oh… speak of the devil.”
Kawakami’s eyes sweep past Akira to stare at something behind him with abject disapproval. Akira turns to look and is surprised to see Sakamato himself approaching them. He looks… different than he did that morning. His mouth is set in a hard line, shoulders hunched, and brows pinched. He keeps his hands stuffed firmly in the pockets of his pants and walks with considerably more stiffness than he had outside of the school. Still… he doesn’t look angry per se – at least not like he had that morning. If anything he looked… guarded… cautious.
“What do you want?” Kawakami questions as Sakamato reaches them. She mirrors his body language, pressing her lips together and crossing her arms. “I heard you missed first period, even though your homeroom teacher saw you walk into school on time today. You’re not cutting classes again, are you? Oh, and you still haven’t dyed your hair back to its natural color. I’m surprised no one has written you up yet.”
Sakamato turns away from her, tilting his head down to stare at the floor. His scowl deepens. His eyebrow twitches. He looks up, and in the least apologetic voice Akira thinks he’s ever heard, says, “Sorry ‘bout that” as if he had just accidentally bumped into her on the street.
And with that curt sentence, it seemed Sakamato was finished speaking with her. He turns to Akira, boxing Kawakami out of their conversation as if she were the one intruding. Kawakami puts a hand on her hip and arches an eyebrow, clearly annoyed but not bothering to do anything about it.
“Meet me on the rooftop.” Sakamato says. Offering no explanation, he turns and walks away – leaving just as abruptly as he’d arrived.
Kawakami shakes her head, frizzy bangs falling in her eyes. “See?” She exhales, “That’s why I don’t want you getting involved. Understood?”
Akira nods.
“Good.” She says, rubbing her temples. “Now… just… try to enjoy your lunch. Classes resume at 12:45…. See you then.”
As Kawakami walks away, Akira considers his options. On the one hand, Sakamato did seem like trouble. He clearly had a bad reputation, and his demeanor when interacting with Kawakami was abhorrent. On the other hand… it wasn’t like Akira had anything better to do.
Akira wasn’t used to being a social outcast. Sure, his family moved around a lot, so he never really got established in any particular school system but… he’d always been well liked. Typically, other students were interested to hear about where he’d lived before, and he’d always gotten good grades and was pretty good at sports too. Sometimes he had to take time off when his sleeping issues flared up, but that had never affected his popularity before.
But here… now… there wasn’t anything he could do to salvage his reputation. It had been ruined before he’d even set foot on campus. He couldn’t make any new friends, he couldn’t contact his family, he couldn’t leave. The only thing he could do was follow Sakamato up to that rooftop and hear him out.
The idle thought that Sakamato might be leading him into some kind of trap crosses his mind, but Akira’s curiosity wins out. If he ends up getting beat up, well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened to him – and at least he’d know to stay away from Sakamato in the future. But if there was a chance – however small it might be – that Sakamato actually wanted to be friends? Well, Akira would take whatever he could get – as long as it didn’t get him into any more trouble.
Steeling himself, Akira heads for the staircase.
There’s a sign posted on the rooftop door announcing that it’s off-limits. Worried that he might get locked out should he step through the door, Akira hesitates to open it. However, the fear of facing the whispers of his peers just a floor below outweighs his fear that Sakamato might be punking him. He turns the doorknob.
At some point that morning, the rain had stopped, clouds parting to bathe the city in sunlight. The rooftop was a pale gray shade of concrete only made interesting by the leftover scattering of puddles and the set of garden boxes sequestered off to the side. Nothing was growing.
Sakamato was alone – or he appeared to be, at least. There was a set of spare desks clumped together haphazardly. That’s where Sakamato had made himself comfortable, leaning back in his chair with his feet kicked up on a tabletop. His arms are crossed, and he’s staring down at his lap, pensive. As he hears the door to the rooftop click shut, he looks up. His expression does not change.
“There you are.” Sakamato takes the lead. Unlike their first meeting where he’d been aggressive and then cheerful, his voice lacks any emotion at all. He seems to have pulled back in some way. Akira can only assume it’s because he’d finally heard the rumors. If he really was some type of delinquent like Kawakami had implied, then it would make sense that he hadn’t heard about him before like Takeishi had. Akira tries to stop a frown from forming as the puzzle pieces click into place. Either he succeeds, or Sakamato doesn’t notice. “Sorry for callin’ you up here like this. I bet Kawakami already told you stuff like, “don’t get involved with him,” huh?”
“She said you’re trouble.” Akira admits, not seeing any use in lying.
“Heh,” Sakamato laughs humorlessly, “well, we’re pretty much in the same boat. I heard you got a criminal record. Everyone’s talking about it.”
Akira shrugs.
“So….” Sakamato prompts. He stares at Akira expectantly. As the silence drags on, Akira grows more and more uncomfortable.
“So… what?” He asks.
“So… do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have a criminal record?” Sakamato presses. Akira has to give it to him – unlike the rest of the student body, he was pretty unafraid.
Still, it wasn’t like Akira was eager to admit that the rumors were true. Rumors were one thing but… if people heard firsthand from Akira’s own mouth….
“Listen,” Sakamato slides his feet off of the desk and plants them on the floor, leaning forward. “I’m not tryin’ to like hassle you, man. The last thing this place needs is any more gossip. It’s just… we talked this morning and I gotta be honest… you don’t really seem like the type. You’re like….” Sakamato scrunches up his face as he grapples for the right word “… hella normal.”
Akira chuckles, more a surprised exhale than a real laugh. “Gee, thanks.”
“I mean it as a compliment, dude! Like… you’re just like… kinda chill? I dunno. I don’t really get the vibe that you’re the type to fly off the handle is all. I mean, like, if you were that kind of guy, you totally would have freaked out on me this morning… right?” Sakamato seems a little unsure. He looks to Akira like he wants some kind of reassurance. Akira just shrugs again.
“Geez… you’re not really one for words, huh? I get it though. People around here… image is everything to them. And there’s no room for error… fuck up just once and it’s all over… doesn’t matter what you did before – not if the wrong people don’t like you. Ugh, never mind. I’m rambling.” Sakamato shakes his head. “Anyway, I figured since people were giving you such a hard time you’d need someplace low key to relax. That’s why I asked you up here. I usually eat here – it’s a good place to like… get away. And none of the teachers ever check up here.”
Sakamato kicks out a seat. “Come on, man, sit down. We only got like twenty minutes left to eat.”
Akira blinks, strangely touched. It’s the kindest gesture he’s experienced since his arrest. Though a part of him is still doubtful of Sakamato’s intentions, the desperate need for comradery wins out. He sits down, offering his fellow delinquent a hesitant smile.
“Thanks.” He says – and means it.
Sakamato laughs. “No problem. I’m Sakamato Ryuji by the way.”
“Kurusu Akira.”
With introductions officially out of the way, the tension dissipates. An easy smile washes over Sakamato’s face and Akira finds that it helps him relax. It’s hard to believe that someone as seemingly cheerful and easy-going as Ryuji has just as bad a reputation as Akira. Part of him really wanted to ask about it – to dig and find out why exactly he’d been warned against associating with him. But Akira refrains, even as the curiosity eats at him. After all, prying into Ryuji’s past would only open himself up to questions too – and he really didn’t want to talk about his arrest.
So, as Akira opens his lunchbox, he opts for an easier topic. “So, what’s the deal with that guy we saw this morning? Kamoshida I think?”
Sakamato’s mood sours. He shoves a large glob of rice into his mouth and chews it like it had personally offended him. It’s kind of funny. “Ugh, that asshole.” Sakamato speaks with his mouth full. “Don’t worry about him. If you’re lucky, you’ll never meet. You’re in the non-bender class, right? He teaches firebending so you should be in the clear.”
“I heard he’s dating a student.”
Sakamato snorts. “Damn. Word really travels fast. Yeah, that’s what people say. It’s this girl – Takamaki. Real pretty but real full of herself. They’re a match made in heaven if you ask me.”
“Is that just something everyone just… knows? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Of course it is.” Ryuji scoffs. “Probably even some of the teachers know, I bet. It’s just that nobody gives a shit. See, Kamoshida is like, a big deal. He was the International Agni Kai Champion like five years in a row. People say he’s the best firebender of this generation and he was chosen by the International Association of Benders to train the next Avatar.” Ryuji laughs suddenly, smirking at Akira with a sparkle of petty glee in his eyes. “What an effin’ joke! Bet the guy’s such an asshole ‘cause the Avatar’s been MIA for like, years. Bet he’s worried about losing out on the glory of being the Avatar’s Firebending Master to some new guy if the Association changes their mind before they're identified. God… if that happens that would like… make my life.”
Abruptly, Sakamato stops laughing. All the glee falls from his face. He stares at Akira with something like… concern?
“Hey man… you okay?”
Confused, Akira opens his mouth to ask what he means but freezes as the words get stuck in his throat. Suddenly, he’s aware of the fact that he’s not breathing. He forces a quick inhale so that he can respond. His voice comes out strangled. “Uh, yeah why?”
“Dude.” Sakamato frowns. “You’re shaking.”
“I am?”
He was. Akira’s chopsticks clatter to the floor.
“Yeah… and you’re looking really pale.” Suddenly Sakamato is lunging across the table to place a hand on Akira’s forehead. Akira jerks back, startled, and Sakamato flushes as he realizes what he’d just done.
“Shit! Sorry, man I wasn’t thinking! You just really don’t look so good all of a sudden.” He stammers.
“Tha – that’s okay.” Akira breathes. “You just surprised me.”
“Maybe we should get you to the nurse?”
“N-no! No, I’m fine.” Akira insists. “Really, I just – ” He cuts himself off, gasping for air.
“Dude, you are so not fine.” Sakamato stands. “Come on, I’ll take you to the nurse. Let’s go.”
Utterly mortified but unable to find the energy to refuse, Akira lets Ryuji lead him to the school nurse, who takes one look at him and decides to send him home early.
Great, Akira thinks as he collapses back on his bed at one o’clock in the afternoon. The one person at this school who was kind to him probably thinks he’s some kind of basket case now, and the rest of the school would think he was too cowardly to face them. What a great way to start the year.
Groaning, Akira pulls his pillow over his face and attempts to smother himself.
Chapter Text
It was a hot, humid night – typical for early summertime. The moon was full, the sky cloudless, the night alive with the sounds of crickets and cicadas. The streets were empty as most of the townspeople were down by the square celebrating the Summer Solstice. West Air Temple Village’s annual Sun Festival was one of the biggest in the United Republic of Nations – bigger than Republic City’s even. People from all over the nation came to celebrate.
Akira had gone to the Sun Festival every year since moving to the Village. This year, however, he decided to skip it. As much as the people of the Republic seemed to love it, Akira preferred the celebrations he had experienced back in the Fire Nation. Most of his friends had begged him to go with them anyway, but Akira declined. It just… wasn’t fun.
He huffed, jabbing his fist forward and scowling at the pathetic little spark of flames he was able to produce. With everyone at the festival, the park near his house was completely vacant. No one was around to witness his pathetic attempts at firebending. Times like these – where he was certain of his solitude, certain he wouldn’t be walked in on – were the only times he was willing to practice bending.
Perched on a stone wall about ten feet in front of him, there was a small wax candle. Akira had spent the better part of an hour attempting to light it with minimal success. Taking a deep breath, he thrust himself forward, casting another fireball. Despite the extra energy he put into it, this one fizzled out even faster than the last one. Akira sighed, defeated.
It was all because of his Chi-Blockers. Rationally, he knew he would never really be able to bend – not on his meds. At least, that’s what all the doctors had said. Technically, he shouldn’t be able to bend at all, but somehow, he was still able to produce a little bit of fire.
Over the years he’d been put on a number of different medications formulated specifically to help with sleep. Strangely though, the only one that had been able to block out his nightmares was a class of medication invented to be given to prisoners, called Chi-Blockers. Chi-blockers targeted the flow of chi in the body, essentially neutralizing one’s ability to bend. Doctors theorized that Akira’s sleep problems were somehow linked to his bending, thus explaining why Chi-Blockers were the only class of drugs that worked on him.
Tragic, really, considering he’d been a pretty promising firebender as a kid. But Akira would take a clear head and terror-free nights over being a bender any day.
That didn’t mean he didn’t miss it a little, though.
Huffing once more, Akira decided to give himself one final attempt at lighting the candle. He planted his feet, inhaled deeply, then shifted forward, arching his fist out in front of him as if he were throwing a punch. Warmth enveloped his hand, and to his bewilderment, a decently sized ball of fire erupted into the night, casting light upon the cool stones in front of him as it locked in on the wick of the candle. Then, the light faded. Darkness settled over the stones. Akira generated enough force to reach his target, however his flame had lacked substantial heat. The candle remained unlit.
Shaking out his hands with a disappointed sigh, Akira decided to call it for the night. He quickly collected his things and slung his bag over his shoulder. Casting one last glance at the peacefully abandoned park, Akira turned and began his trek through the residential streets and back to his home.
It was quieter than normal. Hardly any lights were on at all, as most of Akira’s neighbors were celebrating downtown. The quiet was something that Akira usually found peaceful. However, the ambiance of his empty neighborhood slowly shifted from pleasant to eerie as the sound of some kind of argument reached his ears.
There was a struggle up ahead – Akira couldn’t see it, but he could hear it. One person’s voice was deep, gruff – it sounded agitated. The other’s was much meeker and harder to make out.
“Get in the car – get in the fucking car!”
Akira quickened his pace. Rounding a bend, he found the source of the voices. A man was attempting to force a woman into a car. The woman was resisting, even as the man grabbed her by the wrists and twisted.
“You’ll shut up and do what I say.” He snarled with increasing agitation. “You all will.”
“Hey!” Akira called out. He had no plan – no idea what he was trying to accomplish by getting involved. All he knew in that moment was the surge of anger that rolled over him like a tidal wave, washing him away from any sense of caution or self-preservation and spurring him to act without thinking.
Both members of the couple looked his way, but all Akira could see, all he could focus on, was the stream of fresh tears trailing down the woman’s cheeks, her blotchy, red-rimmed eyes, and the way her face froze in an expression of abject horror. “What’s going on?”
“There’s nothing to see here.” The man spoke for the couple. He was much calmer now, composed. Although, now that he was up close, Akira could better hear the slur in his speech and see the flush on his cheeks – drunk. This asshole was drunk. “We were just having a disagreement. Adult business. I suggest you run along. The festival should be going on for another hour or so… I’m sure your time will be better spent there.”
Akira ignored him. He turned to the woman. “Are you hurt?” He asked. “There’s a clinic a couple of blocks away. I can walk you there if you’d like.”
“There’s no need for that.” The man spoke for her. He stepped between the woman and Akira as if trying to shield her from his field of vision. But it was far too late – Akira had seen enough, and he wasn’t backing down. Frankly, his parents hadn’t raised him to cower away from a person in need.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
“Insolent brat – ” It seemed the man had more to say, but his sentence was cut short by the incoming sound of police sirens. The street lit up blue and red. The man dropped his diplomatic façade. His eyes bulged, his brows pulled down and in, and his mouth contorted in a furious scowl, teeth barred. “You called the fucking cops?” Real anger laced his voice. Akira braced himself for things to get physical, but stood his ground, unafraid. The police were on their way – would be on the scene in seconds.
The man lunged for him. Fortunately, due to his drunk stupor Akira was easily able to sidestep the attack. The man slipped, stumbling forward and banging his head against the brick wall of the nearest building. He cursed, clutching his head as he pulled away. Through his fingers, blood streamed down his face.
Serves you right. Akira thought. He turned towards the woman again and was about to ask her if she was alright when the drunk cut him off.
“You pushed me.”
“What?” Akira scoffed, taken aback.
The man ignored him, addressing the woman. “When the cops get here, you’ll tell them he pushed me. Understood?”
“What?” Akira demanded again, this time in disbelief. The woman glanced at him, fear evident in her eyes.
“Don’t look at him!” The man barked. “You tell them we were out for a midnight walk and this kid came up to us, unprovoked, and pushed me! Do you understand? That is what you will tell them, because if you don’t, there will be consequences.”
“I - !”
“Understood?!”
Akira’s mouth hung open. Why would she lie and protect the man who’d just been attacking her? He didn’t understand. But based on the look in her eye, the way she avoided Akira’s probing gaze, and the way she slumped over in defeat, Akira already knew that that’s exactly what she was going to do. She was going to protect her attacker.
And it was far too late to remove himself from the situation.
The police had arrived.
…
Akira woke with a start. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window, landing on his face, bright enough to blind him. Disoriented, he checked the clock.
The events of the day rushed back to him. Scowling, he set his clock down and collapsed backwards into bed. Sometime after getting sent home for the day, he must have fallen asleep. School would be out soon though, which meant that Takeishi, his unfriendly roommate, would be home any minute.
The thought of having to spend the rest of the evening in Takeishi’s company had Akira rolling over onto his stomach to groan into his pillow. Dealing with everyone’s weird stares all day at school was bad enough – having to come home to that too was just… way over the line. He had to do something – had to go somewhere. He couldn’t stay couped up here.
With a renewed sense of urgency, Akira sprung out of bed. Based on the time, he only had about ten minutes to get dressed and get out before the other dorm students started to trickle into the building. He would have to be fast.
Not wasting a second to think, Akira shucked off his uniform and changed into a simple black t-shirt and jeans. He grabbed his phone, his wallet, and his keys, but hesitated when he reached for his glasses. After a moment of deliberation, he decided to leave his glasses behind. Maybe without them, and out of uniform, he’d be less recognizable in the case that he ran into another Shujin student on the street. He placed them on his bedside table, right in front of his family photo. Having done that, he fled the dorm.
As soon as Akira’s feet hit the street, he turned and walked in the direction opposite the school. Yesterday, he’d been too afraid to take the subway. Today, adrenaline fueled courage.
Without first consulting a map, without a destination in mind, Akira hopped on a train. As most adults were still at work, and most kids still in class, the train wasn’t too crowded. He was able to get a seat, which he sunk into gratefully.
He wanted… he wanted to firebend. He wanted to find somewhere quiet, somewhere away from prying eyes where he could run through a couple bending drills and work off some frustration. In a city this large though, he doubted he’d be able to find the type of place he was looking for – at least not for cheap. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure what to type into a search bar to find a place like that. Of course, there were gyms, but there would be people there. The last thing he wanted was to see other people.
The train screeched to a halt at some kind of station. Just about everyone on the train car with him got up to leave, so Akira decided to follow suit and disembarked along with the crowd.
Immediately, he was overwhelmed with the number of directions to choose from. The station was huge. He could – he could go anywhere. He was going nowhere. Akira pulled himself out of the crowd and leaned against one of the walls of the station. There were dozens of signs hanging from the ceiling, pointing in the direction of different connecting lines. He didn’t know which to choose. His hands shook, and breathing was becoming increasingly more difficult. If he didn’t – if he didn’t figure out what to do soon, he was going to hyperventilate. He needed… he needed to just – he needed – to just – to –
He needed to have gone to the Sun Festival last summer. He needed to have never come across that arguing couple all those months ago. Or – no – he needed to have been smarter, more cunning. He shouldn’t have gotten involved at all. He should have called the police from a distance. He needed… to be better. To be a better son, a better student, a better person.
No. Akira laughed to himself, breathlessly, humorlessly, as he shook against the wall of the station. No, even if he were smarter, braver, more obedient, less stubborn, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Because the issue didn’t lie with where he was or what he chose to do. It was him. It had always been him.
From the moment he’d been born he’d been nothing but a problem. He put his parents through years of stress with all his – his issues. He constantly terrorized his dad’s coworkers by dissociating and getting lost in the middle of the wilderness. He was a burden to his family, to his teachers, and now, to society as a whole.
So, he didn’t need anything. He needed to… to not be Akira.
He needed to be someone else entirely.
Slowly, Akira’s breathing returned to a normal rhythm. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. As he did so, the sounds of the subway station faded into nonexistence. He was just his body, just the push and pull of air in and out of his lungs, just the press of cool concrete against overheated hands.
Spirits help me, he thought, infinitely calmer than he’d been moments before. I don’t want to be me right now.
As if his wish had been granted, Akira felt himself push off of the wall and back into the crowd. He still didn’t know where he was going, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore. He felt weightless – like a leaf floating in a breeze. His feet moved seemingly of their own accord – right, left, right – and with each step he felt more and more of himself slip away.
Until finally, Akira was gone.
Business was slow, as usual. People rarely went looking for coffee after noon, and Monday nights were typically pretty light on the takeout orders too. Still, Café LeBlanc had its fair share of loyal customers.
“Oh, how horrible….” Mrs. Omoi, a kind elderly woman who lived in an apartment building down the street from the café, was currently the only customer. Despite the fact that she had finished her meal ages ago, she remained in her booth. Sojiro knew from the many conversations they’d shared over the years that she only had one son who rarely visited. Loneliness was an unfortunate reality for many older adults these days. That said, he tried his best to provide a stable, welcoming environment for the community. Sometimes, he figured he did a pretty good job.
Omoi sipped her mug thoughtfully as she commented on the news. “I sure hope they find whoever is causing all of these accidents…. Why anyone would do something like that I just can’t fathom…. What do you think, Sakura-san?”
“Hm?” Sojiro glanced at the TV. They were covering the recent train derailment that had left several dead and even more injured. An investigation revealed that the technology which ran the trains had been sabotaged. No suspects had been identified.
“I don’t know.” Sojiro answered. His days of monitoring and analyzing every world event were long behind him.
“I sure hope these people are brought to justice soon. It seems like accidents like these are happening every other day… the fires up north, the buildings that collapsed on the coast, now this…. It’s almost enough to suspect some kind of coordinated effort to terrorize our people.”
“Hm, yeah.” Sojiro responded halfheartedly. “Could be. Or could be random. Who knows? Doesn’t seem like they’ve figured much out yet.”
“Other than that there were signs of sabotage in every case.” Omoi amended. “Clearly we’re under attack.”
At that, Sojiro shrugged. He had his doubts about the validity of the information that was being released to the public but preferred to keep his opinions to himself.
“You don’t think so?” Mrs. Omoi pressed.
“We could be. I guess I just don’t know what to think yet. I prefer to wait and see before forming too many opinions.”
“Neutral jing. How very Earth Kindgom of you, Sakura-san.” Omoi teased, but seemed satisfied with his response. She dropped the topic. “Did you hear the Zhangs are having another baby?”
For a while, Sojiro and Mrs. Omoi gossiped about the neighborhood – safer topics, like who was moving, who got a new job, whose kids seemed to have promising futures and whose were routinely getting into trouble. Sojiro would have been content to spend the rest of his night chatting with his neighbor. In fact, on Monday nights Mrs. Omoi was often his last customer. So, it came as a surprise to them both when, merely half an hour before close, the bell chimed.
“Welcome.” Sojiro said on autopilot. He paused for a moment to smooth out his apron before turning away from Mrs. Omoi to properly address his new customer. He opened his mouth, ready to give the whole new-customer-spiel, but words failed him as he took in the figure standing in his doorway.
The guy was tall enough to be an adult, however the roundness of his cheeks, smoothness of his skin and thinness of his limbs betrayed his youth. It was a teenager – and not one that Sojiro recognized.
The kid walked into the café like he’d been there a hundred times before and promptly took a seat at the bar without uttering a single word. Sojiro glanced at Mrs. Omoi hoping to find his own feelings of bewilderment mirrored on her face, but the old woman wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes were flickering back and forth between the teen and himself, a contemplative look on her face.
Finding no help from Omoi, Sojiro turned his attention to the boy. “Can I get you anything?” He asked.
As if being woken from a trance, the kid jolted. He blinked a few times, eyes big and gray, before furrowing his brows and looking around as if he were just as confused to be here as Sojiro was to have a teenager for a customer.
“Um….” The teen was slow to speak, his voice weak, looking at Sojiro with a somewhat faraway look in his eyes, like he wasn’t entirely there. “…What?” He asked.
“Can I get you anything?” Sojiro repeated, now peering at the kid with more intent. His lips pulled down involuntarily. He gestured towards the menu. “You know… something to eat or drink.”
“Oh um….” The teen placed the palms of his hands firmly on the bar as his eyes drifted towards the menu. He leaned back a bit – swaying, off balance – then gripped the wood a little tighter. “Can I have a minute? To, um, look at the menu?”
“Hmm. ‘Course, take your time. Just wave me down when you’re ready.” To avoid the awkwardness, Sojiro busied himself with the dishes. Still, he couldn’t help but cast the occasional glance in the teenager’s direction. Most of the time, Sojiro caught him looking around the café with that same, somewhat perplexed look on his face. However, every once in a while, he could feel the teen’s intense stare directed at him. It was… somewhat concerning. Sojiro had plenty of experience handling troubled kids… but he wasn’t entirely sure what he was dealing with here. The boy didn’t smell drunk, didn’t seem like he was on any drugs or in an immediate medical crisis which only left….
Trauma was something Sojiro was intimately familiar with. He’d experienced it himself, and he sure as hell could recognize it in other people. Hell, that faraway stare the kid was sporting was eerily similar to the look Futaba often wore. But at the end of the day, this kid wasn’t his responsibility. All he could do was offer him a warm meal and send him on his way.
“First time here?” Mrs. Omoi cut the silence, her voice as warm as always. “It’s a little late for coffee, but you should try a plate of curry. Sakura-san makes the best curry in all of Republic City. Such a shame he’s not more determined to expand. He could have restaurants all over the city if he wanted to – it’s that good.”
“You flatter me, Mrs. Omoi.” Sojiro interjected good-naturedly, sparing a glance up from his work at the sink.
“Certainly not!” The old woman insisted, ever his most loyal fan. “I haven’t found a curry as good as yours anywhere else! One day, I’ll get you to tell me the recipe so I can make it at home. I just can’t get enough!”
Sojiro couldn’t help but chuckle at that, falling into a familiar back-and-forth with the kind old woman. Leave it to Omoi to break the silence – the lady might have the instinct of a hamster sloth when it came to analyzing the news, but she was incredibly astute when it came to the people in her immediate vicinity. “I’ve told you before – it’s a family secret. Besides, I can’t go giving out my recipe to everyone on the street. Then you wouldn’t have to come here anymore. Doesn’t sound like the wisest way to run a business, does it?”
“You don’t have to tell everyone.” Omoi insisted. “Just me. It could be our little secret.”
She winked and Sojiro laughed. “No can do.”
“Stubborn man….” She chuckled, shaking her head a little. She then turned her attention back towards the kid. “Really though, young man, you should try his curry. Best in the city, no doubt about it.”
“Okay,” the kid acquiesced, looking infinitely more alert than he had just moments before. “I’ll try the curry then.”
Sojiro offered him a polite smile. “Coming right up.”
“So, son, do you live in Yongen as well? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before.” Omoi continued to make conversation, friendly to the point that it bordered on nosy, the way many elderly people were.
“Oh no, I don’t live around here.” The kid explained, voice gaining strength. He seemed to have pulled himself out of whatever funk he was in when he arrived at LeBlanc – or perhaps Mrs. Omoi’s sincerity had put him at ease. Either way, the kid had clearly perked up a bit.
“Really? What part of the city are you from?”
“I actually just moved here, but I live pretty close to downtown. Around where Shujin Academy is.”
“Wow!” Mrs. Omoi exclaimed. “That’s pretty far from here. What brought you to Yongen?”
The kid chuckled, looking sheepish. “Uh, just felt like doing some exploring, I guess.” He dodged Omoi’s gaze as he spoke, eyes briefly catching on Sojiro before looking down and away. Nervously, he twirled an errant black curl of hair around his index finger.
“Hm.” Omoi nodded thoughtfully. She pursed her lips, eyes briefly flicking back and forth between the kid and Sojiro again. There was something on her mind – Sojiro could tell. Whatever it was, he wished she’d just come out and say it. Clearly, both of them could tell there was something up with this kid. But while Sojiro remained mystified, Omoi was obviously in the process of formulating a hypothesis.
“Understandable. You must not have many friends yet if you’ve just moved to the city. You ought to be more careful though, young man. Yongen-Jaya is a good neighborhood but if you’re wandering around the city with no destination in mind, you could end up somewhere dangerous and not know it.” Omoi advised. “Where did you live before moving to Republic City?”
“West Air Temple Village.” The kid responded.
“Ah yes, that makes sense. That’s a very safe town – I’m sure you were free to wander around all times of day without worrying for your safety. Forgive me for the lecture when I’m sure all you want is a nice meal, but do be careful now that you’re here. Like I said, most of the city is safe but there are bad neighborhoods. Since you’re not local, it might be harder for you to differentiate between them. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”
The teen nodded obediently but didn’t add anything else to the conversation. Feeling generous, Sojiro decided to swoop in and save him.
“Order up.” He said, dropping a fresh plate of curry in front of him. “Enjoy.”
The kid looked at him with gratitude. “Thanks for the meal.”
Nodding, Sojiro returned to his dishes. From the corner of his eye, he could see the kid pick up his chopsticks and take a bite.
There was something satisfying about watching a new customer try his curry for the first time. While Sojiro had no plans to expand, he was pretty damn proud of his recipe. After all, Wakaba had spent hours helping him perfect it. She would stay up late at night doing culinary research, then come to him bright in early with suggestions carefully crafted to pull out the most delicate of flavors.
Sojiro would always remember that period of his life with great fondness – Wakaba with her hair tangled and glasses askew upon the bridge of her nose, excitedly blithering on about the precise ratio of spices required to make the perfect curry, neglecting her worldly duties to help him with his passion project. Sometimes he wondered how his customers would react if they knew their favorite recipe had been lovingly, painstakingly crafted by the Avatar herself. It would certainly bring him loads of business. But frankly, it sounded like more trouble than it was worth. These days, Sojiro preferred to keep his head down and his cards close to his heart.
Besides, Wakaba was his secret to keep.
As the kid brought the first bite to his lips, Sojiro smiled to himself. He wondered if he would be the type to gush over the taste the way so many of his older customers did when they’d first tried his curry, or if he’d play aloof like the teenager he was.
Sojiro was prepared for any number of the usual reactions – excited yapping, compliments, recipe requests, silent approval, even the stoic thoughtful nod. In the years since opening LeBlanc – since putting his curry recipe out there for the world to enjoy – he’d seen and heard it all.
Or so he’d thought.
The kid froze, still as a statue. His brows drew together. His bottom lip pressed firmly into the top. The corners of his mouth twitched downward. His whole expression wobbled – a look of utter confusion rearranging his features as every muscle in his face worked overtime as if they were unsure of which emotion to express.
And then, he started crying.
To the kid’s credit, he was completely silent. Tears streamed down his face, pooling along his jawline and dropping to the bar, completely unaccompanied by any sound. All the while, the teenager’s eyebrows remained pinched over his eyes, which were darting around the room, unseeing, unblinking, as if he were just as confused by his reaction as Sojiro was.
Sojiro exchanged a worried look with Mrs. Omoi.
Unsure of what else to do, Sojiro reached for the nearest napkin and offered it to the kid to use as a tissue. He accepted it gratefully, looking embarrassed.
“Uhm…” The kid said, covering his eyes with one hand and staring into his plate, avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze by any means possible. “Can I take this to go?”
“Of course.” Sojiro wasted no time pulling out a to-go container and packaging up the meal. But as the kid pulled out his wallet, Sojiro held up his palm. “No need for that. It’s on the house.”
The kid frowned. “But – ”
“Don’t worry about it, kid. Just enjoy.”
Sojiro was trying to do something nice, but the gesture only seemed to embarrass him more.
“Uh… sure.” He said, still resolutely dodging his eyes. “Thanks then…. Have a nice night.”
As soon as the kid had left the shop, Sojiro leaned against the bar and rubbed the back of his neck. “Geez….” He muttered, stupefied.
“Well. That sure was something, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Omoi commented in a tone far more jovial than it had any right being.
“Sure was.” Sojiro grunted. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the front door as if the teen might turn around and walk back in at any moment.
Omoi, on the other hand, watched Sojiro. After a moment of silence, she decided to shed some light on whatever it was that had been running through her head.
“Have you ever been married Sakura-san?” She inquired, head tilted pensively.
“Me? No.” Sojiro scoffed, a little startled by this new line of questioning.
“Really? A charming, handsome man like you – I’m sure you could have had just about any woman you wanted.”
At that, Sojiro smiled to himself. He’d been pretty wild in his youth. To say the least, he’d been in a few relationships – none of which ever went anywhere long term. See, Sojiro never really pictured himself settling down, never pictured himself with a normal life – a wife and kids and everything that came along with it. So in a weird way, Omoi was right. He probably could have made it work with any number of his past girlfriends – he just chose not to.
Then, of course, there was Wakaba. The one who didn’t want him. The one he was never supposed to meet.
The one he failed.
“Heh, maybe.” Sojiro commented. He pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes, resolutely ignoring the sudden ache in his chest.
“What about a girlfriend? I’m sure you must have had at least one that got serious, no?”
“What’s with the interrogation? You trying to set me up?” Sojiro asked, setting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and raising an eyebrow in question.
“No, no.” Omoi said. She pressed the rim of her mug against her lips as if she could suppress the playful smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Her eyes sparkled. “It’s just… well it’s strange that a teenager would walk into LeBlanc on accident, let alone Yongen-Jaya, whether he’s new to the city or not.”
“…. Right.” Sojiro narrowed his eyes. Omoi’s smile grew.
Without another word, Mrs. Omoi began to gather her things. She took out her wallet and handed Sojiro her payment, grinning all the while.
When she was swinging her purse over her shoulder, Sojiro could no longer take the suspense. “You gonna elaborate on that at all?” He enquired.
Mrs. Omoi paused, already halfway out the door. “Oh, it’s probably nothing.” She said. “He just looked a lot like you is all.”
With that final statement, Omoi stepped out into the street and the door to LeBlanc closed behind her, leaving Sojiro alone to deal with the devastating implications of what she had just said.
No. There was no way. That kid had to have been around Futaba’s age and at that time Sojiro was fully committed to Wakaba – had been for a few years by that point. If Sojiro had any kids that he didn’t know about, they’d be well into their twenties by now.
Still, as Sojiro leaned back against the bar, he had a sinking feeling.
That kid wouldn’t be leaving his thoughts any time soon.
Notes:
I'm a big fan of that Avatar theory based off the belief that your current face is the face of the person you loved most in your previous life, wherein every Avatar resembles the previous Avatar's most beloved.
Chapter Text
The ride home from Yongen-Jaya was stressful. Or, at least, it would have been had Akira not been so out of it. He tried to focus on the monotonous, semi-comprehensible voice announcing each upcoming stop, ignoring the curious stares of his fellow passengers as he wiped a few lingering tears from the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t had an episode like this in years. Not since before he started taking chi-blockers. He felt… disoriented. Clouded. Like he didn’t belong in his own skin. Plus, there was a huge gap in his memory between panicking at Central Station and arriving at that café.
Remembering the café, Akira groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. How embarrassing – crying in front of a stranger like that. To make things worse, he didn’t even know why. Was he that stressed? Overwhelmed? It didn’t matter. He should have been able to handle it better.
The train jolted to a stop. It was too soon for Akira to get off, so he didn’t pay much attention to the exchange of passengers. However, just as the doors closed and the train resumed its slow roll, a commotion caught his attention.
“Excuse me, Ma’am? You can have my seat. My station is coming up.”
“Are you sure?”
Akira pulled his head out of his hands to look up. A girl with a bright red ponytail was offering her seat to an elderly woman.
“Of course! No trouble at all.” The girl stood, but as the old woman moved to take the offered seat, a middle-aged man rushed to take it first. He sat, bumping the old woman on his way.
“Hey!” Said the girl with the ponytail, catching the woman as she stumbled. She quickly composed herself. “I mean, excuse me? Sir? That seat was for this woman.”
Akira watched, slightly baffled, as the rude man promptly fell asleep.
“Wow….” Ponytail girl commented, clearly just as bewildered. She turned to the woman. “I’m sorry ma’am. I guess I wasn’t much help after all.”
“It’s alright dearie. Don’t you worry.”
“Here,” Akira stood. “Take mine.”
“Oh!” The old woman exclaimed. “What a kind group of young people I’ve stumbled upon. That’s very sweet of you, son, but I’m alright.”
“I insist.” Akira said, ushering the old woman to his seat before anyone else could snatch it. He took a spot standing beside ponytail girl. “My stop is coming up too.”
“Oh alright, alright….” The woman chuckled, shaking her head. She looked grateful, though.
They rode in silence the rest of the way, Akira feeling a little better about himself. It felt good to do nice things for other people and not be treated like some kind of psycho with ulterior motives for it.
Finally, they arrived at Central Station. As Akira disembarked, ponytail girl followed him.
“Wait!” She called. Akira turned to look at her, then stepped to the side of the platform, out of the way of the crowd. The girl followed his lead, stepping out of the line of traffic. “I wanted to thank you,” she said.
Akira tilted his head. “For what?” He asked. The girl had an honest, energetic disposition. She smiled politely, dropping into a bow of gratitude, and causing her bright red bangs to shift over her forehead. As she did so, Akira thought he caught a glimpse of something blue.
“For helping that old woman on the train!” She straightened. “You seemed tired, so you really didn’t have to do that. But I really appreciated it!”
“Oh….” Akira tried to repress his flush, mortified to think that she’d probably seen him crying. “It was nothing. Besides, you did the same exact thing. Hardly something to thank me for.”
“Well, I’m thanking you anyway! Kindness should always be appreciated! Anyways, that’s all I wanted to say. Have a nice night! And thanks again!”
As the girl turned to leave, a gust of wind from the tunnels blew her hair aside.
“Wait!” Akira reached out without thinking, nearly grabbing her arm before his brain caught up with him. He quickly pulled back, hoping she didn’t notice.
The girl turned back to him. “Yes?”
“Are you….” Akira floundered. Realizing his hands were still in the air, he consciously lowered them to his sides. “Are… are you an Air Nomad?”
“Huh?” Ponytail girl paled. She rushed to adjust her bangs, and as she did so, Akira noticed that she was wearing gloves.
Quickly, he tried to backpedal. “Um. Never mind. Have a good night – ”
“ – Yes, I am.” They spoke simultaneously.
“Okay.” Akira felt dumb.
“Why did you ask?”
“My family.” Akira exhaled, hoping to salvage the interaction. Though, he definitely got the impression that she hadn’t wanted to be recognized as an airbender. “I mean, I have Air Nomad family: my grandmother, an aunt, and a cousin. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just surprised to see your tattoo. I didn’t think there were many airbenders in Republic City.”
The girl visibly relaxed, her cheerful demeanor returning as she smiled brightly. “That’s okay! Yeah, there aren’t many of us but we’re here! Where does your family live? I wonder if I’ve met them.”
Akira smiled. “My grandmother and aunt are nuns at the Western Air Temple. My cousin is based in the Norther Air Temple, but he travels a lot these days doing disaster relief. Last I heard he was in Si Wong helping to manage those freak sandstorms that’ve been happening.”
The girl nodded. She still seemed friendly but… somehow her expression had shifted… flattened. “Yeah, a lot of young airbenders are in Si Wong right now. It’s good work. He must be a very talented bender.”
Akira shrugged. “I think so. I wouldn’t know. I’m not an airbender so I don’t have much to compare it too, myself. His name’s Ren by the way. In case you know him.”
The girl shook her head. She looked away as if she were suddenly unable to meet his eyes. The smile was still there, as if permanently glued to her face, but she seemed… sad. “I grew up at the Eastern Air Temple and I… it’s unlikely that our paths have crossed.” She said. “Anyway, it’s getting late so I should get going. Thanks again for your help tonight. It was nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.” Akira waved goodbye. The girl smiled one last time and headed towards a different line.
Akira sighed. While the interaction had put him in a better mood, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d somehow ruined hers. She’d been so peppy before but as she left….
Well. No use in dwelling on it. He’d never see her again anyway.
Absently, he checked the time on his phone.
“Holy shit!” He blanched. Only half an hour ‘til curfew.
He sprinted to catch his next train.
…
Akira was panting by the time he reached his building. He quickly checked the time and breathed a sigh of relief. Five minutes to spare.
Upon entering the lobby, he flashed the desk worker his ID. However, as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, that sense of relief quickly turned to dread. His roommate would be home.
He braced himself for another unpleasant interaction.
Akira slowed as he approached his room, attempting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Lingering in the hallway, he caught the sound of multiple voices coming from inside his dorm room. He shuffled his feet with a frown, inching closer to the door without any intention of opening it. He leaned his head against the frame.
“ – fucking sucks.” Another boy was speaking, but not Takeishi. From the sound of it, there were multiple people in the dorm.
“I know.” Someone groaned – Takeishi for sure.
“You should complain to Principal Kobayakawa. Or have your parents write a letter. They’d have to move you then. There’s no way the school can get away with putting you in danger like this. If you make a big enough fuss they’ll have to do something,” A third voice was saying.
Takeishi heaved a big, dramatic breath. “Obviously I’ve already done all those things, so don’t lecture me Nakaoka. It might just take some time for me to get moved.”
“Geez, sorry.” Third voice – Nakaoka – sounded testy. “I was just trying to help.
“I just can’t believe they thought they’d get away with this. Like, could you imagine if the truth hadn’t leaked? You’d be sleeping by a criminal every day and you’d have no idea. That’s gotta be like… unethical or something.” Second voice chimed in again.
“Tell me about it.” Takeishi snorted.
“Is it true that he was doing drugs in here last night?” Nakaoka asked, a note of glee in his voice, like he was scandalized, but couldn’t help his curiosity.
Outside the room, Akira clenched his fist, scowling deeply. Were they fucking serious? Plenty of people took medicine. But because he was on probation, it wasn’t medicine it was “drugs”?
“Kinda?” Takeishi said, sounding unsure. “I mean I saw him take something before going to sleep last night, but I don’t know what it was. Could have been like… vitamins or some shit, I dunno. It was dark.”
“Oh.” Nakaoka sounded disappointed.
“Well,” The unidentified third person chimed in, “we could find out.”
There was a pause in conversation then. Akira leaned closer to the door, holding his breath. The scuffle of shoes on the ground indicated that people were moving around. Then, Akira caught the distinct sound of a drawer being opened. The second Akira put two-and-two together and realized what they were doing, his face flushed in anger. He clenched his jaw, tempted to burst into the room and release all his pent-up rage on the three people rudely going through his belongings, but he managed to refrain. Kawakami’s words from the other day held him back – if anything were to happen, he’s the one who would be blamed. He needed to keep a level head. This wasn’t just a test of character, but a necessity for survival. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.
“Here it is!” Takeishi announced triumphantly.
“What’s it say?”
“ Ob… obs-tru-ere-sel?”
“The hell is that?”
“Do I look like I know?”
“I was just asking.”
“Well maybe you should – ”
“Guys shut up.” The third person interrupted. “Just look it up already, would you?”
“Fine.” Takeishi relented.
Akira shuffled his feet. He could already hear the new rumors forming. “Transfer student takes medication prescribed only to terrorists and murderers – that means he must be a terrorist and a murderer too!” And when he’s inevitably forced to release his medical records to “prove” he’s taking it for medical reasons, he’ll be labelled as some kind of unstable psychopath. There was no winning here. He needed to step in now. Before this somehow got worse.
Pushing Kawakami’s advice to the side, Akira yanked the door open.
“What the hell are you guys doing with my stuff?”
One of the boys screamed. Takeishi visibly jumped, dropping his pill bottle to the floor. The third guy startled a little but quickly regained his composure. He stepped between Akira and Takeishi, as if to protect him from sudden danger.
“Nothing man.” He put up his hands. “Now, why don’t you calm down?”
“Why are all my drawers open?” Akira refused to let them act as if they weren’t in the wrong. “Why are you going through my shit?”
“Calm down it’s not what it looks – ”
Akira ignored him, eyeing his forgotten pill bottle on the floor. Quickly, he shoved the first guy aside, lunging for his meds.
Unfortunately, Nakaoka was closer. Seeing Akira making a move for the bottle, he swiftly snatched it out of reach.
Akira stopped in front of Nakaoka, clenching his jaw. Trying to temper his rage, he held out a hand, palm open. “Give me my meds.” He demanded.
Nakaoka floundered a little, looking somewhat terrified. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but before he could say anything, Takeishi cut him off.
“You know this is a drug-free dorm, right?” He said, suddenly having found his courage. “You can’t have that here.”
“It’s medicine.” Akira hissed. “For sleep. So, are you guys going to keep being a bunch of assholes or are you going to give it back?”
“Likely story.” The third guy stepped forward. “How do we know it’s not some type of steroid? With the way you’re acting, I bet it is. Can’t go too long without your fix or you’ll go berserk. Well, I’m not going to let you terrorize my friend.”
“Steroids?” Akira scoffed, beyond insulted. “Are you crazy? As if they’d let me have something like that here. Like I said, it’s medicine, and I need it so give it back!”
Akira tried to swipe the bottle out of Nakaoka’s hand, but he wasn’t fast enough. Nakaoka tossed it to Takeishi, who was standing by the open window.
“Hey!”
Akira stepped towards Takeishi only to get shoved back by the third guy. “Get rid of it Takeishi!” He shouted.
Akira blanched. He tried to reach around the third guy, but Nakaoka grabbed him from behind, pulling on his shirt and causing him to stumble back. “Hey! – Don’t – ”
“Toss it!”
“Wait!”
Looking somewhat petrified, Takeishi glanced back and forth between his friends and Akira, as if frozen in place and unsure of what to do. Then, a sudden look of determination came across his face, and in that split second, Akira knew exactly what was about to happen. Takeishi twisted open the cap to his medicine and chucked it out the open window.
“No!” Akira screamed, finally wiggling out of Nakaoka’s grip and pushing past the other guy. He shoved Takeishi aside and reached the window just in time to watch a car roll over the bottle and crush it into the street.
He gaped, hands frozen on the windowsill, blood rushing in his ears.
“Hah,” the unnamed friend panted. “Guess it’s not going to be so easy to terrorize everyone now, huh?” He sounded smug.
Akira felt cold. He – he needed that medicine. He couldn’t… he couldn’t sleep without it. He….
He turned from the window, slowly, numbly, as if he were a puppet being pulled along a string. He faced the three boys, and the look on his face must have been truly fearsome, because even the boldest of the three was suddenly looking a little nervous.
Nakaoka cleared his throat. “Um… I gotta get going.”
“Me too….” The third friend said.
“Hey,” Takeishi paled. “What about – ”
“Come stay in my dorm.” The friend said. “At least until Principal Kobayakawa gets this whole situation figured out.”
“Oh, thank god….” Takeishi breathed. Swiftly, and without taking his eyes off of Akira, he grabbed a few things from his side of the room and shoved them in his backpack. “Thanks man.”
With that, the three boys quickly made their exit. As the door closed behind them, Akira could swear he heard running in the halls, like they couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
He exhaled shakily, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. He stared, unblinking, unmoving, at the tile flooring. In the back of his consciousness, he could hear the sound of the occasional car driving by on the road and the singing of crickets. Darkness enveloped the room as the sun abandoned him, leaving him a lone firebender beneath the cold shadow of the moon. Still, Akira remained frozen to the floor, staring into space.
His final crutch, his only support for the upcoming year was gone, crushed in the street. He’d been given a year’s supply intentionally, so he didn’t have to contact his doctor while he was away. Maybe… maybe his probation officer would show mercy on him and let him renew his prescription. But… given how he’d been treated so far… he doubted it.
This was it. He was fucked.
With minimal movements, Akira turned to look at his bed. What was once a place of comfort now wore the face of a monster. Under no circumstances could he go to sleep. Who knew what kind of horrors awaited him there?
Why don’t you find out? The voice was back, and clearer than ever.
Akira pulled his knees into chest, shaking his head.
“Stop talking to me you’re not real.” He whispered into the empty air.
I think you know that’s not true. She said. I think you know exactly who I am.
“No.”
Surprisingly, the voice didn’t push him like it usually did. She fell silent, as if giving him some kind of reprieve. As if… it no longer mattered how much Akira resisted, and repressed, and denied.
She was coming for him, and there was nothing left to hold her back.
Notes:
Question for anyone interested...
Firebender!Ryuji and Earthbender!Makoto, or Earthbender!Ryuji and Firebender!Makoto? Originally, I was thinking Ryuji would be a firebender with a focus on lightening to keep things in line with the game, but as I've been playing with the plot I've kinda been thinking it might be more interesting if he were an earthbender instead. Either fire or earth fits Makoto in my opinion, but Ryuji's been giving me some trouble. I feel like it makes the most sense for him to be a firebender based on the game, but given Akira's already a firebender I feel like there isn't much to explore there. Idk. I haven't committed yet either way so if you have thoughts lmk!
Also sorry for how long this has taken. I've been super busy plus I needed to work out a few kinks in the plot before I progressed with writing. Think I've got the next few chapters ironed out though. Anyway, thanks for reading!
Chapter 7: Tuesday April 12th, 20XX
Chapter Text
Tuesday April 12th
There was an ache in his leg. Ryuji scowled, limping through the hallways, intimately aware of the fact that it made him look like a thug. Not that he was trying to look like anything else anyway. He had pretty much given up on ever looking presentable. The only reason he even still bothered to show up at school was to make his mom think he hadn’t completely given up on life – even though Ryuji (and the entire student body for that matter), knew he was going nowhere fast. He was a fuckup, a “drain on society”, a loose cannon who’d either end up dead on the streets or terrorizing “real” hardworking citizens. Just like his dad.
As Ryuji hobbled through the halls, the crowd parted. People granted him a wide berth, eyeing him warily as he passed.
Luckily, these days he’d become old news. No one gossiped about the “violent former track star” anymore.
No, the student body had a new resident delinquent to whisper about.
Speaking of which, the transfer student was looking pretty out of it that morning. Ryuji watched him ascend the stairway at the front entrance, gliding almost ghost-like through the door. Like they did with Ryuji, other students distanced themselves as he walked by, casting quick glances and whispering to each other. The transfer student didn’t pay them any mind. In fact, he hardly seemed to notice them at all.
Damn… if Ryuji were in his position he would have been well on his way to a suspension by now. How the transfer student kept such a level head and didn’t react to any of the outrageous slander being spewed was beyond him.
Ryuji observed the transfer student for a moment longer. Even though he seemed kinda dazed, Ryuji couldn’t help but think the guy looked oddly… ordinary. Sure, he was pretty quiet and kept his head down, but that was obviously just a reaction to the public shunning.
As Ryuji wandered towards his homeroom, his thoughts drifted to their brief interaction from the day before.
He’d seemed… guarded… and maybe a little annoyed. Ryuji had chalked it up to being a response to Ryuji’s own defensive behavior rather than as the guy’s actual disposition.
Either way, Kurusu hadn’t seemed like… well, like a thug. He’d seemed kinda normal actually, friendly even. Didn’t act like the kind a guy who’d have a criminal record, that’s for sure. But the school hadn’t made any statements addressing the rumors yet, and Kurusu hadn’t bothered to deny them yesterday so… there must have been some truth to them.
Weird.
“I feel so bad for Takeishi-kun!” As Ryuji took a seat at his desk, no one paid him any attention. He’d reached the point of outcasting where he was functionally ignored by the majority. He usually just tuned everything out this time of day, but the sound of this ex-teammate’s name caught his attention.
“Why?” Another classmate asked.
“Haven’t you heard? He got stuck rooming with the new transfer student.”
“What no way! The criminal?”
“Yeah! Isn’t that totally unfair?”
Ryuji stared out the window, pretending not to eavesdrop. He wanted to chime in and say he felt worse for the transfer student in that arrangement but bit his tongue.
“Yeah, and I guess they got in a fight last night. Takeishi had to sleep at Murada’s. I heard Nakaoka talking about it this morning.”
“Woah… that’s serious!”
“Apparently Nakaoka and Murada were both there and able to intervene. Who knows what might have happened to Takeishi if he’d been alone.”
“Yeah, that’s really scary…. I hope Principal Kobayakawa does something about it.”
“Or Mr. Kamoshida.” The first student whispered, causing both students to giggle to themselves. Ryuji tapped his foot impatiently, staring at his own furious expression reflected in the glass.
Bang!
Ryuji jolted and the students abruptly stopped their giggling. The girl who sat behind them had abruptly slammed her books onto her desk. Everyone turned to look at her.
“Whoops! Sorry!” She said, a sheepish expression on her face. She sat down delicately, gathering her things. “They just slipped out of my fingers! I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s alright, Suzui.” One of the gossiping students said.
“It was an accident! Don’t worry about it.” The other added.
“Thank you for your understanding.” Suzui bowed.
Suzui Shiho was easily one of the most popular girls in school. She was kind to everyone, easy to talk to, and had a simple, natural kind of beauty that was hard to imitate. Thick black hair, warm honey-brown eyes, a gentle smile… yeah it wasn’t hard to see why she was being asked out by some new guy practically every week even without everything else she had going for her.
See, Suzui was basically the poster child of Shujin Academy. You couldn’t pass two classrooms without seeing a picture of her face plastered to some kind of flyer. The school had really high hopes for her. This year, the International Agni Kai tournament was going to be hosted by Republic City, and Suzui would be making her debut as Kamoshida’s star pupil.
This fact should have annoyed Ryuji considering how much just the thought of Kamoshida pissed him off but… Suzui was hard to hate. Even after everything that went down last year, she was one of the few people who still treated him like normal. And she was genuine about it too. She was just… nice for the sake of being nice. No ulterior motives. No hidden agendas. She was 100%, honest to god, a kind, thoughtful person down to her core.
Which is what made it so weird that she was always hanging around Ann Takamaki, who was anything but gentle and honest and kind.
Oh well. It wasn’t his place to judge.
“Settle down, students.” Their homeroom teacher finally arrived, silencing all remaining chatter. “It’s time for attendance.”
…
The first thing Ryuji did when class was dismissed for lunch was book it for the transfer student.
Luckily, he wasn’t too hard to find. Even though he wore his uniform pristine and carried himself like some kind of background NPC, the way the rest of the students rushed to avoid him like they were being physically repelled by some kind of force field made him easy to spot in a crowd.
Ryuji felt himself brighten as he locked eyes on him. He smiled, raising a hand in the air to make it easier for Kurusu to see him. “Yo! Kurusu-kun!”
Of all the students in the hall, the transfer student was by far the slowest to respond. He moved at a snail’s pace, cocking his head a little like his body had registered his name being called but his brain hadn’t quite caught up. A few seconds went by before he turned towards the sound of Ryuji’s voice, and instantly, Ryuji understood why.
When Ryuji had observed him that morning it was from a distance, and even then he’d looked tired. But now, up close and face-to-face, Kurusu didn’t just look tired. He looked like he was moments away from collapsing entirely.
“Hey man,” Ryuji’s smile faded a bit. “You feelin’ okay?”
The transfer student blinked slowly, a furrow in his brow. “I….” He spoke slowly. Then, all at once his face lit with comprehension. “Oh, hey. Sakamoto. Yeah, I’m okay. Just a bit tired is all. Thanks.”
“A bit?” Ryuji grinned, feeling more at ease now that Kurusu seemed to have come out of whatever stupor he’d been in. “You look like you’re going to pass out any minute, dude!”
Kurusu exhaled a singular little “ha”, like he didn’t have the energy to fully laugh but still thought Ryuji was being funny. He rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe I’m more than ‘a bit’ tired but – ”
Kurusu cut himself off to yawn.
“Yeah, okay, don’t try to kid yourself, man. Come on, let’s get to the roof so you can take it easy.”
“Sure.” Kurusu easily fell into step beside him.
Despite his obvious exhaustion, Kurusu seemed much warmer today. He didn’t hesitate to follow when Ryuji led him up the stairs, and even proactively took a seat at the table without being invited. Maybe he’d decided to throw caution to the wind? Or maybe he was too tired to bother keeping up his walls? Ryuji wasn’t sure. Either way, it was a welcome change.
“So, I heard you’re rooming with Takeishi? That’s gotta suck.” Ryuji blurted the second they sat down.
Luckily, the transfer student didn’t seem to mind the prying today. “Yep. He doesn’t like me very much.”
“No kidding.” Ryuji grinned. “Guy’s always had a stick up his ass.”
“You know him pretty well?”
“We used to run track together, before the team was disbanded.” Ryuji said casually, kicking back in his seat while trying not to let any bitterness slip into his voice. “He’s the typa guy to always think he’s right. He was a pretty good teammate though and a decent guy, but he changed after track was cancelled.” Thanks to Ryuji. “I heard you guys got in some kinda fight last night?”
The transfer student sighed, picking at his food. “Word really travels fast around here, huh? But yeah… I guess we did.”
“That why you’re so tired today?”
Kurusu squinted at him, frowning. He paused, like he was considering how much he wanted to share. “Kind of. I sort of… walked in on him and a few of his friends going through my belongings and snapped at them.”
“What?! That’s so uncool.” Ryuji probably would have snapped at them too. He shook his head. “So what, you called them out and they got all defensive about it?”
“Pretty much.” Kurusu anxiously tapped his chopsticks onto his plate. He looked away for a moment, as if considering something. Apparently making up his mind, he stopped his tapping and looked Ryuji in the eye. “I have a sleep disorder, so I take medication.” He sighed, sounding frustrated. “For some reason everyone’s got it in their heads that I’m doing illegal drugs, even though they’re clearly prescription. That’s why Takeishi and his friends were going through my stuff. They took my meds and I tried to grab them back. We ended up fighting for them. But in the end, they just threw them out the window and left. So I didn’t sleep at all last night. That’s why I’m tired.”
“Assholes!” Ryuji exclaimed, slamming his hands into the table. The transfer student blinked at him, looking surprised. “I can’t stand people like that. The people at this school are a bunch of jerks, man, for real. They go through your stuff, and somehow it’s all your fault? For being pissed? That’s bullshit! It’s not fair. It’s –”
The transfer student was laughing.
Ryuji paused his tirade mid-sentence, baffled. To be fair, it wasn’t a full body laugh or anything like that. Really, the guy was only kinda chuckling. But still, the bizarre reaction made him lose his train of thought.
It was the first time he’d seen Kurusu look so unguarded. He tossed his head back, grinning from ear to ear and showing off the straight whites of his teeth. Behind bulky glasses, his eyes lit with a spark of something bright and unafraid. Strangely, despite the abruptness of Kurusu's laughter, Ryuji didn't feel like he was being laughed at. Instead of raising his hackles or making him feel self-conscious, the sound of Kurusu's laugh felt like a soothing balm, taming the flames of rage welling up from within before they grew wild and consumed him.
“Thanks, Sakamato.” Kurusu said as his laughter died down. He shook his head, smiling to himself like he was the one in disbelief. “I think I needed that. Since I’ve gotten here, I’ve felt like I’ve been going crazy or something – like my moral compass was off somehow. I’ve been thinking… did I do something wrong? Or like… have I been missing cultural cues since I’m not from here? But I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks this is ‘bullshit’”.
“I… yeah man, no problem.” Ryuji swallowed, inexplicably nervous. Then, something the transfer student said caught up with him. “Wait, you’re not from around here? I mean, I guess that explains why you’re in the dorms….”
Kurusu shook his head. “No, I’m from the Fire Nation. I’ve only lived in the Republic for about three years. My family moves around a lot.”
“Whoa, really?” Ryuji nodded, absorbing that tidbit of information. Kurusu didn’t look like a typical Fire National. Sure, he had the standard pale skin and dark hair, but his eyes were a stormy shade of gray. And his hair had a curl to it, which was more common in people of air or water descent. Maybe he was mixed, though? A lot of people in the URN were, Ryuji included. “So, where have you lived?”
Kurusu took a sip of water before responding. “Um, Ma’inka Island, Makapu Village, Gaipan, Sei’naka Island, and in the URN – West Air Temple Village.”
“Was it hard? Moving around all the time, I mean. Seems like it’d get lonely.”
“Nah,” Kurusu shrugged. “I have a good relationship with my parents. Plus, I’ve always been good at making friends… Well, until this year….”
The transfer student trailed off, something heavy overtaking him. The energy he’d regained seemed to have left him entirely. Strangely, Ryuji felt compelled to remedy this.
He quickly scanned his brain for another question. “What do your parents do?”
Kurusu snapped out of his funk. “Oh, my dad’s a wildlife photographer and my mom’s a conservationist.”
“Huh. Guess that explains why you were always moving. So like, how’d you end up here?” The second it was out of his mouth, Ryuji wished he could take it back. Kurusu paled a little, taken aback by the question. Ryuji felt a little bad, but… he was curious, dammit. Were the rumors true?
“I uh… I was walking home one night,” Kurusu began. He paused to take a deep breath. One of his hands went up to tug on the curls at the base of his neck. The other started to tap on the tabletop. “There was this couple. They were arguing and the man… he was trying to force this woman into a car. She was crying, so I stepped in. He tried to get me to leave, to – to ignore it and walk away. But I was being stubborn. I tried to convince the woman to walk to a clinic with me and… the guy tried to hit me.”
Ryuji leaned in, hardly able to believe he was really getting an answer at this point.
“I stepped out of the way, but he was drunk so he fell and hit his head. The cops arrived, but the guy told the woman to lie and say I’d pushed him. For some reason, she did. So I got arrested. And now I’m here.”
“She lied?”
“Yeah,” the transfer student laughed humorlessly. “When it happened, I didn’t understand why, but it turned out that the guy was a major politician.”
“A politician?!” Ryuji screeched, scandalized. “That scumbag!”
“It gets worse.” Kurusu ceased his tapping and planted one elbow on the table, resting his head against his hand. “He sued my parents and convinced the Justice Department to open an investigation for child abuse. They subpoenaed all my health records, and I was interviewed by a psychologist. Even though I told them nothing was wrong at home, they ruled that ‘further investigations’ were needed, so in the meantime I haven’t been able to contact my family at all. It’s almost been a year. I think he’s just trying to keep me tied down legally so I can’t go to the press or anything, since he’s running for Prime Minister this year.”
“WHAT!? The hell, man! How much shittier can that asshole get?!”
“Calm down.”
“But just hearin’ your story makes me angry!” Ryuji tried to relax himself, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as a consequence of being chastised. Because seriously?! It sounded like Kurusu had nice parents and yet they were being investigated for child abuse? Meanwhile, nobody did jack shit about his dad when he was around.
“Seriously dude, that sucks. You think he’s gonna win?”
Kurusu shrugged. “Dunno, maybe. Never really followed URN politics before. It’s not like I can vote.”
Ryuji paused to absorb this information, attempting to keep his temper under control. Kurusu seemed like an honest guy, so it was believable that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Frankly, anyone would come to that same conclusion if they bothered to speak to him for more than a minute, Ryuji thought. But everyone at this shitty school just wanted to feel superior – wanted someone they could look down upon. They just assumed the rumors were true and that Kurusu was dangerous because of them. Kind of like….
“You know, we might be more alike than I originally thought.” Ryuji mused aloud.
Kurusu blinked. “How so?”
“I guess it’s how we’re treated like a pain in the ass by the people around us, like we don’t belong. I did something stupid at school before, too.”
“Really? Is that why people keep telling me to stay away from you?”
“Hey! People’ve been telling me to stay away from you too, you know!” Ryuji sputtered defensively. “But… yeah. I, uh, I’m kinda the reason the track team got disbanded. Kamoshida was our coach, but all he cared about was Competitive Firebending. I’ve uh, never been the best firebender, so he didn’t like me much, but man was I good at runnin’. Loved it too. Thought I might’ve even gotten a scholarship for it someday.
“Well, Kamoshida hated track and hated having to coach untalented firebenders like me, too. So as you can imagine, we didn’t exactly get along. Kamoshida started pushing the track team really hard – like running until you puked and passed out hard. Every. Single. Day. And kids started gettin’ injured, you know? So I spoke up about it. I went to the teachers. I told Principal Kobayakawa. No one gave a shit. He’s famous, ya know? And none of us kids matter.
“Kamoshida hated that I tried to rat on him. Started ridin’ me particularly hard. And then… he started spreading rumors about me… about my family.”
It felt strange unloading all of this on someone who was essentially still a stranger to him, but Kurusu had been willing to share, and that emboldened him.
“What about your family?” Kurusu asked in a gentle voice. He had a way about him – a calming energy despite his circumstances. It made it easy to confide in him. Hell, Ryuji would believe it if you told him Kurusu was actually an Air Nomad in disguise.
Ryuji sighed. “Truth is, my mom’s the only one I’ve got. All my dad ever did when he was around was drink. And sometimes he’d even beat me, or my mom. I dunno how that bastard Kamoshida found out, but he told the whole goddam team…. As you can guess, I lost it and hit him. It was like he wanted me to do it though. Called it an “act of violence” and used it as an excuse to shut the team down. ‘Cause of that, the whole team treats me like some kind of traitor. They’re not wrong though. Because of me they lost their shot at the championship. And everyone thinks I’m a violent fuck-up.
“So yeah,” Ryuji concluded. “That’s why everyone’s telling you to stay away from me. Feel like runnin’ for the hills?”
Kurusu grinned. “Not a chance.” He twirled a chopstick around his fingers. Dude was weirdly graceful. “Sounds like you’re right – we are pretty alike.”
Ryuji beamed back at him. “That’s what I’m saying, man!”
Just when things were starting to get good, the bell rang. Ryuji groaned and begun gathering his things. “Ugh. Back to class. I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah,” Kurusu smiled, “see you later.”
Things seemed to have turned up for Akira. Sure, after Takeishi and his friends left, Akira had spent the remainder of the night staring at the floor and fighting the urge to sleep. And yeah, Officer Li hadn’t answered his calls that morning, nor had he returned Akira’s voicemail requesting that they speak. But things still felt better somehow. Lighter.
It felt good to get everything off his chest, and Sakamato had been surprisingly understanding. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so lonely after all?
It was easier to ignore the gossiping today too. Maybe because Akira was prepared for it this time? Who knew. Either way, he was able to get through the whole day without incident. By the time the end of the day rolled around, his biggest worry was whether or not he was going to let himself sleep that night. Unfortunately, he had a feeling his body was going to make that decision for him, if the heaviness of his eyelids was any indication.
“Kurusu-kun, wait.” A voice interrupted his thoughts. Akira paused his walking, turning to acknowledge his teacher.
“Yes, Ms. Kawakami?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, I – are you alright?” She squinted at him. Wow, he must really look terrible if everyone kept commenting on how tired he looked. Yeah, he was going to have to sleep tonight, no way around it. “Nevermind. I hate to ask this of you, but most of the students here have after school activities or cram school so… could you do me a favor? I have a meeting later today to help organize Friday’s rally. I left a box of decorations we need for it in the supply closet near the gym. It’s labelled ‘Friday’s Rally’ in big letters so it should be no problem for you to spot. Would you mind grabbing it for me? I have to stay here and help a few students. It should only take a minute of your time.”
“Oh, sure.” Akira agreed without thinking. “But um, we’re having a rally on Friday?”
Kawakami looked dumbfounded, like the thought that he wouldn’t know about it hadn’t crossed her mind. “Oh! Yes, we are. We have one the first Friday of every school year, in honor of our competitive firebending team. We’ve been internationally recognized since Mr. Kamoshida took over as coach, so…. Anyway, would you mind grabbing it? Here are the keys in case the storage closet is locked. You can bring the box straight back here. I’d really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Akira accepted. Even if she was kind of stern sometimes, Miss Kawakami was usually nice. Unlike most teachers, she didn’t single him out during class. She definitely had the most sympathy for him out of all of the staff.
That wasn’t saying a lot, but still.
“Thanks, Kurusu-kun. I’ll be right here.” Kawakami bowed, then rushed back into the classroom and sat down with a group of students.
Akira headed towards the gym. Honestly, he was grateful for the excuse not to go back to his dorm. He wasn’t sure if Takeishi would come back or not, but either way, the space felt cold and dull. Plus, this extra task would help him delay going to bed.
There was only one storage closet in the gym. Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find. Akira approached it tiredly, keys in hand.
If he had been more awake, he might have noticed the voices coming from inside. He might have hesitated at the door, paused to listen, or called for a teacher. Unfortunately, he wasn’t more awake, and he didn’t notice the voices coming from inside the closet. Instead, he confidently walked up to the door, yanked it open, stumbled inside and –
– and saw Mr. Kamoshida standing uncomfortably close to the girl who sat in front of him in class, looming over her, holding her by the wrist.
Takamaki looked at Akira with wide blue eyes, alight with something like… relief? Mr. Kamoshida on the other hand couldn’t contain his abject fury. His face twisted in a sinister scowl, and he stared at him as if he could burn a hole straight through Akira’s chest.
Akira swallowed nervously, clearing his throat. “Um… Miss Kawakami asked me to fetch a box for her…. It’s for Friday’s rally….” He explained tentatively.
Mr. Kamoshida composed himself, releasing Takamaki’s wrist. “…. Of course. I know just the one. It’s right there.” He pointed to a clearly labelled box on one of the shelves.
“Thanks….” Akira bowed, attempting to be as polite as possible. Slowly, he moved to grab the box, feeling both pairs of eyes on him all the while.
“O-oh! That reminds me!” Takamaki exclaimed suddenly, a weird catch in her voice. “Miss Kawakami asked me to help her sort through some of the decorations!”
“Did she, now?” Kamoshida frowned.
“Y-yeah! Thanks for reminding me, Kurusu-kun!” Her laugh was light and airy and painfully fake. She quickly maneuvered out of Kamoshida’s shadow and plastered herself to Akira’s side. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kamoshida. We’ll have to chat another time.”
“That’s alright.” Kamoshida glared at Akira. His gaze was piercing. “High school is busy, I understand. We’ll talk soon. Takamaki, Kurusu.”
Without another word, Kamoshida exited the closet. Akira watched him go, not daring to move until he was out of sight, holding his breath. Judging by the way Takamaki tightly clasped his arm, she was feeling exactly the same.
The second Kamoshida was out of earshot, Takamaki released his arm and heaved a big, dramatic sigh.
“Oh, thank god.”
Akira frowned, shifting the box in his arms to a more comfortable position. “Takamaki-san? Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” She cheered, plastering a huge smile to her face. It didn’t quite reach her eyes though, and even she must have realized it was unconvincing, because she dropped in a second later. She shuffled nervously, not meeting his eyes. "Um. Well. Anyway, I should get going - "
"I'll walk you back to class."
"Huh?"
"You said Kawakami asked you to help sort her decorations, right?" Akira couldn't help himself. The expression on Takamaki's face, her nervousness, and the fact that she clearly felt the need to lie about whatever was just happening... it reminded him of that woman, from the night of his arrest. Something was happening between Takamaki and Kamoshida, and despite the fact that he'd literally been arrested over a similar situation, Akira felt the same sense of justice that caused him to act last time returning with a vengeance. "I'm heading back to her class. I'll walk you there." He insisted.
"Oh!" Takamaki floundered, staring up at him with impossibly blue eyes. She puffed out her cheeks, shifting from one foot to the other like she was trying to come up with a suitable excuse not to come with him, but failing miserably. "U-um, okay! Sure! Yeah! Let's go!"
As they fell into step side by side, Akira tried his best not to stare. It was hard though - Takamaki was radiating anxiety so potently it was starting to make him sweat. They walked in silence, Takamaki glancing around nervously the whole time like she was trying to find a way to escape. Her behavior only made Akira frown. Was she afraid of him? It was a possibility, given all the rumors, though she hadn't indicated anything directly.
One short and incredibly awkward walk later, they arrived at Kawakami's classroom. Without hesitation, Akira walked up to Kawakami to hand her the box of decorations. Takamaki trailed behind him.
"Ms. Kawakami? I'm back."
"Kurusu, thank you!" She stood up, pausing whatever supplementary lesson she was giving to greet him. "You can place the box on my desk. Oh, hello Takamaki. Can I help you?"
"Yes, um!" Takamaki plastered another painfully fake smile to her face. "I promised I'd help sort through the decorations for the rally! Remember? Haha...."
Her eyes darted between Kawakami and Akira, like she was trying to gage the success of her lie. Akira tried to remain as neutral as possible. Meanwhile, Kawakami did nothing to hide her confusion.
"You did? I don't remember that...."
"Yes! Yesterday, remember? Before class...."
"Huh." Kawakami eyed her suspiciously. "Well, maybe I did but I don't need your help right now. However, the student government will be decorating after classes conclude on Thursday, if you'd like to help out then? We always need more hands. You too, Kurusu. You're welcome to join us."
"Whoops! I must have toootally misunderstood you yesterday! Sorry Ms. Kawakami! I'd love to help out on Thursday, though!"
Kawakami nodded slowly. "Okay, thanks. And you, Kurusu? Care to help us decorate?"
Why not? "Sure." Akira said. He had nothing better to do, and he felt a strange need to place himself between Takamaki and Kamoshida at any given opportunity. "Happy to help."
"Thanks. Alright, I'll see you in class tomorrow." Kawakami dismissed them.
"Yes! See you tomorrow!" Before Akira had the opportunity to ask Takamaki any follow up questions, she bolted from the room.
Akira's frown deepened.
He should leave it alone. He should put his head down and worry about himself. Takamaki's problems weren't his to solve. Just like that night last summer - getting involved would only get him hurt. It's not like he could do anything anyway. At the end of the day, he was just a kid. He had no experience with these kind of issues.
Yet, something pulled at him. It was... grief. A feeling of tragedy and loss. And anger - anger was there too. But... as visceral as these emotions were, they almost didn't feel like his own.
Akira took a deep breath and tried to shake it off. He needed to focus on himself now. With great effort, he pushed Takamaki out of his mind and headed for the dorms.
It was time to get some sleep.
Chapter 8: Wednesday April 13th, 20XX
Notes:
I know its kinda implied in the tags but tw: violence against women
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Wednesday, April 13th
Wind whipped the heavy snow, roaring in his ears. Akira didn’t care. In fact, he barely felt it, even as he sprinted deeper and deeper into the blizzard.
No no no no no no no. His own desperate pleas repeated over and over in his head. They were the only thing he could focus on even as ice bit at his exposed face.
No no no – she didn’t – they were lying – it was forbidden – she didn’t.
By now the snow had reached several feet high, and Akira, small for his age, had to power through it. His chest felt like it was on fire as he fought the wind and snow combined.
Please don’t be true – don’t be true – don’t be true!
Finally, Akira arrived at his destination, immediately collapsing from over-exertion. While he caught his breath, the wind continued to howl. He panted, face first, into the melting frost. For a moment, he let the snow envelop him like a blanket, shield and comfort him. It felt soft and warm beneath his fingers. He closed his eyes. He counted to ten.
With one last shaky inhale, he raised his head –
and screamed.
The vision before him was worse than he could have imagined. Luah, who taught him how to sew and braided his hair and sung him to sleep every night, who made the best sea urchin soup in all of the Northern Water Tribe, who was his best friend, his closest companion, his idol, his guardian, his hero, his sister – was the latest to join the forest of frozen bodies in the tundra outside of Agna Qel’a. Like the others, a column of ice held her by the arms, suspending her in air. Akira couldn’t look away – couldn’t stop noticing things. Like her wrists and ankles, which had clearly been broken prior to her hanging, given the odd angles at which they rested. Or her fingers and toes, blackened by the cold. Or the smattering of bruises lining her naked torso, legs, and arms. Had they beaten her before hanging her out to freeze? Stripped and tortured her? Why? For what?
A woman’s place is here, Skadi. She had said one evening at the healing hut, when Akira had foolishly asked why they couldn’t learn to waterbend instead. We are the backbone of the tribe, the healers. We nurture and guide. It is the duty of the men to hunt and protect. That’s why they learn to bend water to fight, and we learn to bend water to heal. We are the life givers of the tribe. Then, she had smiled a little, turned and winked at Akira as if she were about to let him in on a big secret. At least, that’s what Mistress says. I think it’s a load of reindeer crap. But seriously though, don’t try to waterbend. They’ll banish you for it.
To be hung in the Frozen Forest was to have your crimes immortalized for generations. No bodies would decompose. Instead, they would bloat, whiten, shrivel and remain hollow husks left forever to remind future generations of the consequences of betraying the tribe. As Akira gazed out across the tundra, he wondered how long some of the others had been there... and for how long Luah would remain like this - frozen in the worst - last - moment of her life. How long would it take her to look like the others? And was the crime of waterbending truly great enough to justify such a fate? Akira didn't think so. He whimpered, unable to pry his eyes away from his sister's lifeless face. Even if what they said was true... even if she had broken the rules and betrayed the tribe... she didn't deserve this.
Akira curled in on himself, a pathetic little whine leaving his throat only to be swept away by the roaring wind. Luah barely looked like herself. Her mouth hung open, her tongue out and cheeks sunken. Her nose was hard and black and frostbitten. She was – she’d always been so beautiful. She was highly sought after by their fellow tribesmen. She’d just turned fifteen. She’d just been engaged. How did… how could things have changed so fast?
He wished he could rescucitate her. He wished he knew how to waterbend, so he could relieve her of her icy shackles, and mend her broken bones and lay her down gently, kindly, with a warm kiss to the forehead and a delicate hand in her hair the way she'd always put Akira to bed at night when they were kids. But not even the waters of the Spirit Oasis could bring someone back from such a horrific state. He'd never felt more useless in his life.
“So, they told you?”
Akira whirled around so fast his hood slipped to his shoulders. There, beside him in the snow, was none other than the youngest waterbending master in the tribe, the Chief’s second son, his sister’s now ex-fiancé, Karoq.
Akira sniffled, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes.
“How much did you hear?” Karoq asked, sounding sympathetic.
Akira opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“Your sister was practicing waterbending in secret.” Karoq sighed, shaking his head. “I confronted her about it and when I did, she attacked me.” He pulled aside his hood to reveal a small scrape on his cheek. Akira stared at it, dumbfounded, until he dropped his hood and covered it once more. “The guards told my father and then… it was out of my control. I’m sorry you had to hear about it like this. They should have told you before. You should have been able to say goodbye.”
Akira didn’t – couldn’t – respond, numb from the cold, or his tears, or something else entirely. Karoq knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Maybe it was supposed to be comforting? Akira wasn’t sure. It definitely didn’t feel comforting, though. Everywhere Karoq touched him, his skin burned.
“You know nobody thinks ill of you, right? I hope you know that you still have a place in the tribe. Just because your sister turned out to be a degenerate doesn’t mean we think you will too.” Karoq smiled a little, tilting his head like he was trying to comfort a pet. Akira stared at his mouth, his smile, his teeth. They looked – too sharp – like they belonged to a polar bear dog and not a man. “If I’m being honest… I’ve always liked you more. You may be the younger sister, but you always seemed so mature to me, Skadi. You’re a great healer, and you’ve grown so beautiful. Everyone thinks so.”
A fresh wave of tears rolled down Akira’s cheeks. Karoq didn’t pay them any mind. He was too busy removing his hand from Akira’s shoulder to fiddle with his hair. He rolled one of Akira’s braids around his fingers, and Akira felt sick. Luah was the one who had braided his hair. She’d done it that morning. And now… her fiancé… the very person who had turned her in for waterbending… was….
“Luah raised you well…. You’re so soft-spoken and obedient. The way every good tribeswoman should be.” Akira averted his eyes, looking down to observe the contrast of his quickly reddening fingers against the white of the snow.“Yeah, just like that… if only Luah had been more like you.”
When had he taken off his gloves? It didn’t matter. Akira didn’t feel the cold anymore. If anything, he felt hot, like there was a fire building up inside of him, thawing the ice, turning water into steam. Pressure was building in his chest.
Akira’s breath quickened, but somehow, he’d finally found his voice.
“You killed my sister.”
Karoq’s hand stilled in his hair. He frowned. “Don’t be like that. I understand this is hard for you – it’s hard for me too – but there’s no use in placing blame. She broke the law. The law, which was written to protect women in the first place, mind you. She was dangerous. If the other women had found out, or worse, if she’d started teaching them, the whole Tribe would have collapsed. It wasn’t about her, or me, or anything else. It was about survival. Our survival. I – ”
“YOU KILLED HER!” All at once, the pressure that had been building in Akira’s lungs released, amplifying his voice into a frightening screech. Several layers of fresh snow blew backwards in a ring around them. Some of the ice holding up his sister’s body cracked.
Karoq stared. Akira stared back. His tears now felt hot, angry. Defiant.
Luah… Luah had been Karoq’s third fiancé. The first tragically drowned in the water ways of Agna Qel’a. The second fell and hit her head. Akira remembered the second girl. She’d been brought into the healing hut when Akira was young and at the beginning of his training. He wasn’t allowed to stay and watch since it had been such a critical case… but even as a beginner Akira had treated plenty of concussions. They were probably one of the simpler injuries to treat. All you had to do was find the source of the bleeding and stop it.
But somehow, even Mistress hadn’t been able to save that poor girl.
And now… and now –
Karoq scoffed, shaking his head. Apparently, the shock of being screamed at had worn off. “Maybe you’re not as mature as I thought you were. But you need to understand. Luah was a criminal. Whether you like it or not, that’s just a matter of fact.” Instead of resuming his gentle fiddling, Karoq started tugging on Akira's braids. “It hurts me to say so because I loved her, I truly did, but she was unfeminine, dangerous, she – ”
“LIAR!” Awash with rage, Akira stilled Karoq’s hand by firmly gripping his wrist. He turned, every nerve in his body tingling with a sudden surge of energy, to look Karoq directly in the eye. The wind whirled with increasing intensity, whipping Akira’s braids around like unfastened ropes in a storm.
“Skadi – ” Karoq started, but Akira ignored him.
He rose to his feet. He grit his teeth. He twisted Karoq’s wrist and relished the shocked noise he made. He grabbed him by the front of his parka, and pulled him in close, and sucked in a deep breath and held it in his lungs and let it start to burn and then – his vision went white and –
– Akira woke with a start.
“Hah!” He exhaled pure fire, jerking wildly in his bed. One of his arms smacked into the bedside table, knocking it off balance and sending all of its contents clattering to the floor. Something shattered. His opposite leg kicked the wall, causing no further damage to anyone but himself.
“…Luah?” Akira gasped, attempting to catch his breath. He was shaking and covered in a thin layer of frost, but somehow still way too hot. Absently, he clutched at the front of his t-shirt, finding it drenched, and pulled it away from his skin in an attempt to cool off. He blinked a few times, baffled by the sudden darkness. “Wha..?”
As Akira blinked in the dark, he was overwhelmed by an intense feeling of grief. He curled onto his side, pressed both hands to his face, and immediately started sobbing.
That grief left him just as quickly and suddenly as it had arrived, and in the wake of its departure, Akira became aware of the throbbing in his wrist and ankle.
“Ow….” He groaned, taking a moment to dry his face on his disturbingly damp pillowcase. Then, without thinking, he sat up and raised his non-injured hand, channeling energy into his palm to make a little night-light so he could assess the damage – something he’d done hundreds of times before. However, he was wholly unprepared for the ease with which he felt his chi flow, and the burst of flames he produced was significantly hotter and larger than he’d anticipated. The whole dorm room lit a brilliant blue. Akira startled, lost his balance and dropped both hands to his bed, only to realize his mistake half a second later when he started to smell smoke.
“Shit!” Frantically, he swatted at his covers, smothering the little fire before it could get too big. Once he was satisfied with that, he jumped out of bed and flicked on the lights.
The damage was worse than he thought it would be. When he’d bumped into the table, Akira had knocked over both his picture frame and the glass of water he kept at his bedside. The floor was covered in water and shards of broken glass. He was lucky he hadn’t stepped on something sharp. Moreover, his bedding was still smoking slightly from where he’d accidentally set it on fire. What’s worse though, is the fact that, somehow, he’d managed to char his freaking ceiling.
“You’re kidding me.” Akira said aloud, gazing at the perfectly round scorch mark right above his pillow. He hung his head in defeat. There was no reasonable way he could explain this to the school without sounding like an absolute maniac. Yeah... he wasn’t beating the violent criminal allegations any time soon.
“Yep.” Akira nodded to himself, accepting his fate. “This couldn’t have possibly gone any worse.”
Immediately, the fire alarm went off.
“Well, fuck me, I guess.”
Shiho was acting strange
“Ugh, I really need a new pair of school shoes. The soles on mine are so worn out. Wanna go shopping this weekend?” Ann asked, ascending the steps at the front entrance of Shujin Academy. She wobbled a little, feeling weak and unsupported in her right ankle. Spirits. She should have worn her other shoes today.
Shiho smiled tiredly. “I’d love to, but Mr. Kamoshida is hosting one-on-one practice sessions over the weekend and he asked me to help out with some of the others’ training. He’s been drilling us pretty hard since the tournament is right around the corner.” She sighed. “Though… I have been putting in a lot of extra hours. Maybe I could skip…? Shopping sounds fun. We could get crepes too?”
“No, don’t worry about it!” Ann hastily interjected. “You’ve been working so hard for so long! I don’t want to be the person to ruin things now that you’re so close! I’ll pick up new shoes on my own. But maybe we can get crepes another time? Or after the tournament when you’re not so busy?”
Strangely, despite how badly she wanted to be a professional bender and how hard she’s been working to achieve that goal, Shiho looked disappointed. “Yeah,” She chuckled. “You’re right. I should stay focused. The tournament will be over soon…. Won’t it?”
“Yeah!” Ann cheered. “It’ll be here before you know it! And you’re going to win, too! I just know. Then, the whole world will know Suzui Shiho, Master Firebender!”
“You’re right.” Shiho smiled again, this time sounding much more genuine. Ann beamed, internally patting herself on the back. “I’m almost there. I just have to push through this. And it will all be over soon enough.”
“Yeah!” Ann linked their arms, adding a little pep to her step and encouraging Shiho to do the same. “Imagine all the crepes you’ll eat when we’re out celebrating your victory… Mhmm I’m hungry just thinking about it now!”
Shiho laughed. “I think you might be more excited about those crepes than me, Ann. But sure, we’ll eat lots when I get my first medal.”
“Yay!”
Ann was about to do a little twirl, hoping to pull Shiho along with her and improve her mood even more, but suddenly, her friend stopped walking. Ann dropped their linked arms to peer at Shiho in question, catching her staring at something in the distance, a pensive frown on her face. She followed her friend’s gaze curiously, looking out across the busy hallway to see what could have caught her attention, only to feel a sharp jolt of anxiety straighten her spine as she locked eyes with the transfer student.
As quickly as their eyes met, the transfer student looked away. He put his head down and wandered into their homeroom. Ann shifted nervously, growing more aware of her uneven shoes. Her right ankle wiggled a bit too freely.
“Do you think he’s lonely?” Shiho asked, still staring in the direction the transfer student had been. There was something oddly… wistful… in her voice. Her eyebrows pinched in slightly, contemplative. Her eyes stared, glassy and unblinking. Her whole body froze, eerily still, like a glass figurine – hollow. Fragile.
Ann’s chest tightened uncomfortably. Something was wrong. There was something Shiho wasn’t saying, at least not directly. But despite the anxiety her friend’s despondent attitude inspired in her, Ann also felt a familiar rush of fondness at her friend’s words. Shiho truly was the kindest person she’d ever known. “That’s just like you Shiho. Always worrying about other people.” She said in lieu of prying.
“It’s not that.” Shiho shook her head, unable to meet Ann’s eyes. “It’s just…. I don’t know. Forget it.”
Feeling dismissed, Ann answered. “I think he probably is.” She said, recapturing Shiho’s attention. “I… talked to him yesterday. But yeah, I don’t think he has any friends.”
“You don’t have to be friendless to feel lonely.”
“I… guess that’s true.”
“What was he like?”
When Ann thought back to her interaction with the transfer student from the previous day, she couldn’t help but recall exactly how that interaction had occurred in the first place. She visibly shuddered. In the forefront of her memory, there was Kamoshida. He was pulling her aside after class. He was requesting her help with something for the rally, in front of other teachers so she couldn’t say no. He was asking her about her modelling career. He was cornering her in the supply closet, telling her she was beautiful, standing over her, getting closer – too close – touching her arm –
Ann could feel herself start to perspire. There was a strange tingling in her fingertips, and her chest was feeling tight again.
“U-um….” She started, forcibly shoving Kamoshida from her mind to focus on the transfer student. He’d been…. “He seemed nice. A little – ” too perceptive “ –quiet. We didn’t speak much. I just helped him move some boxes for Ms. Kawakami.”
Shiho nodded, just as the bell rang.
“W-well! See you after class!” Ann quickly dismissed herself, waving goodbye to Shiho and booking it for her homeroom… where she’d be seeing the transfer student in person.
As she took her seat, she could practically feel his eyes boring into her. Ann fiddled with her hair, pulling one ponytail forward then tossing the other over her shoulder. Ms. Kawakami started speaking, but Ann could hardly pay attention. She couldn’t help but wonder exactly what the transfer student was thinking, what he’d noticed, what he’d do. Most of her hoped he’d let it go. Her business with Kamoshida was her own. That, and she needed to stay on Kamoshida’s good side. For Shiho.
A smaller, more selfish part of her hoped he’d do what he did yesterday and just… linger. Watch. Make it hard for Kamoshida to get her alone.
But of course, that wouldn’t end well either. Kamoshida would just get angrier and besides… even if the transfer student did decide to help her, it would just be to get into her pants. Just like all the other guys at this school. Why help the girl if you’re not going to get anything from it, right?
Ann tugged at her ponytail a little too hard, winced, and forced herself to put her hands on her desk.
Well, he wouldn’t be getting any from her, that’s for sure. Ann resolved to harden her heart to any outside intervention. She could handle Kamoshida. Just like those female villains from her favorite childhood cartoons – she didn’t need help from anyone, but especially not from any men. All she had to do was delay his advances until Shiho won her medal. Then, he’d have nothing left to hold over her head.
She could handle Kamoshida.
She could do it on her own.
Lunch was quickly becoming Akira’s favorite time of day.
Stepping into the hall, he immediately scanned the crowd for Sakamoto’s bright head of hair. As he did so, Takamaki walked past. Despite nearly bumping into him, she completely ignored him. In fact, she’d pretty much ignored him all morning – never looking his way, never meeting his eye. Akira wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret that, but he decided to let it go for the time being. He’d made up his mind after all – he needed to put his head down and worry about himself. He was already in hot water; the last thing he needed to do was make more enemies. Especially enemies as influential as five-time International Agni Kai Champion, chosen Firebending Master of the next Avatar, school hero Kamoshida Suguru.
“Kurusu-kun, wait a moment, please.” Akira paused his search for Sakamoto, turning to face Kawakami. Once realizing she had his attention, she pulled him to the side of the hall. “Um… a report was filed by one of your classmate’s parents. Principal Kobayakawa would like to see you in his office.”
Just like that, Akira’s good mood shattered. “…Was it Takeishi?”
Kawakami sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I’m… not technically allowed to say. But don’t worry, you aren’t going to be suspended or anything. I think they just want to gather more information. I’ll come with you. Please, follow me.”
Akira adjusted his glasses, wiping his palms on the front of his blazer in an attempt to smooth out any wrinkles. On shaky legs, he followed Ms. Kawakami through the hall. On the way to the principal’s office, they passed Sakamoto, who shot Akira a questioning look. Akira shrugged at him, doing his best to appear nonchalant and mouthing ‘later’. Still looking worried, Sakamoto nodded and walked in the direction of the roof.
And just like that, Akira found himself on trial in Principal Kobayakawa’s office once more.
Only this time, it was worse. Last time, he only had Kobayakawa, Kawakami, and his probation officer to judge him. This time, Officer Li was absent, and his replacement was looking at him with palpable contempt.
“So, this is the infamous transfer student.” Mr. Kamoshida said, crossing his arms.
“Yes. Kurusu-kun, this is Mr. Kamoshida.” Kawakami said, as if to introduce them. She then took her place standing in the empty space to the left of Kobayakawa, Kamoshida to his right. Akira’s nervousness intensified.
“…It’s nice to meet you.” Akira bowed politely, hoping to reduce the intensity of Kamoshida’s scorn. Though, he had a feeling it wouldn’t work.
“Yes, well. I’ve heard lots of things about you, Kurusu.” Kamoshida said. “But I’ll let Principal Kobayakawa speak first.”
As if taking the cue from Kamoshida, the principal began to speak. “We have received complaints of fighting in your dormitory…. Additionally, your roommate has put in a request to transfer rooms. Do you have anything to say about that?”
Akira’s mouth was dry. “Uh well…” He swallowed. “There wasn’t any fighting – at least I wouldn’t call it that. Monday night, I walked in on Takeishi and his friends going through my things. They threw my medication out the window. I tried calling Officer Li about it but he hasn’t answered.”
“Right, of course.” Kamoshida sneered. “You tried to call him so you could spin the story in your favor, I’m sure. Lucky he didn’t answer, then.”
Akira furrowed his brows. “What? Of course not. That’s – ”
“Mr. Kamoshida, please.” Kobayakawa interjected. He turned back to Akira. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”
“I – ” Akira sucked air through his teeth, then straightened his posture. “Yes, sir.”
“The other students said it got violent.” Kobayakawa pressed. “That you shoved one student and hit another. What do you have to say about that?”
“What?” Akira set his jaw. Of course they embellished things. He was really starting to hate his roommate. “No, I didn’t do anything like that. Actually, one of them grabbed me when I tried to get my medication back. But I never hit anyone.”
“Interesting. So, there was fighting. If I were you, I’d try to keep my story straight, Kurusu.” Kamoshida commented. He turned to the principal. “Mr. Kobayakawa, I strongly advise that you reconsider this little… rehabilitation side project. It can’t possibly be worth the extra funding.”
“Hm.” Kobayakawa said, stroking his chin while he peered at Akira with an indecipherable look in his eye. Then, he turned to Kawakami. “Ms. Kawakami, what are your thoughts? How has Kurusu been in class?”
“Honestly, he’s been fine. I’ve had no issues with him. So far, he’s turned in all of his assignments on time. He hasn’t caused any disruptions, and he’s been helpful on a number of occasions. He’s a good student so… I don’t know where this… outburst may have come from.” Kawakami scratched her arm. Akira stared at her, wide-eyed. He sensed that Kawakami was different from the other teachers, but he wasn’t expecting her to vouch for him like that.
“I see.” Kobayakawa nodded thoughtfully. “Well, there’s also the incident from this morning to address. Although you fessed up to having caused a fire, you were not forthcoming about the extent of the damages. The firefighters who assessed your room found significant burn marks on the ceiling. Care to explain?”
Akira cringed. “Honestly, it goes back to the Monday incident. I’ve always had problems bending in my sleep… my medication helps to prevent that. Since – ”
Kamoshida loudly scoffed. “You expect us to believe you did that in your sleep?”
“I have a condition. It should be in my records. Officer Li – ”
“On the topic of your records, care to explain why you’re registered as a non-bender?”
“Again, it’s because of my – ”
“Did you know Takeishi-kun has been sleeping in the room above you? You weren’t trying to get back at him, were you?”
“Of course not! I – ”
“Alright, enough.” Kobayakawa interrupted. “Listen, Kurusu. It hasn’t even been a week yet, and already you’ve been causing problems. We have complaints of violence from several students, your roommate has requested a new room, and you’ve caused significant damage to your dorm. Ms. Kawakami says that you’re a good student and there have been no incidents at school, however, we cannot ignore what’s happened during off hours. I do not wish to expel you just yet, but I’m not sure we can justify housing you if things like this keep happening.”
At the mention of expulsion, Akira inhaled sharply. “What… what do you mean?”
Kobayakawa frowned. “You’re welcome to continue studying at the school, provided there are no further incidents on campus. However, I will be contacting Officer Li to discuss alternative housing options. You don’t have to move right away, but I’m expecting you to have found living accommodations elsewhere by the end of the semester, or you will not be invited to return to Shujin.”
Notes:
T-2 chapters til shit hits the fan
This is taking longer to get through than I expected, but we're getting there. Exposition is hard, fam, but the payoff will be worth it. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 9: Thursday April 14th, 20XX
Notes:
Whoops - sorry this one took so long. Was having a hard time getting in Ryuji's head. Not convinced I really have his voice nailed down, but I think he'll be easier to write once I'm through this introductory phase and he's feeling less angsty haha.
Also, I really wanted to get this done, so I didn't edit it. Feel free to point out typos or any weird phrasing - it really doesn't bother me. I'll get around to editing this chapter (and subsequently deleting this note) later.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Joining the track team was supposed to be a fresh start, not just for Ryuji, but for his mom too. He could see it in her eyes. Pride that he’d gotten into such a prestigious school on an athletic scholarship. Hope that things would be different now that his father was gone.
On the morning of his first day of practice, she fussed over him like he was a toddler again.
“Ma, come on.” Ryuji didn’t have to work very hard to dodge the hands attempting to smooth out a patch of his dark brown hair now that he’d outgrown her by over half a foot. “My hair’s fine – I’m gonna be late!”
“Oh, just let me fix it. Your hair’s sticking up funny. It’s like you’ve got bedhead or somethin’.” She tutted.
“Ma!”
“There.” She said, tearing up a little as she retracted her hands. Seeing her like that did something funny to Ryuji’s heart. He squirmed. “Just look at you! Almost grown! Going to the big fancy school with the big fancy sports team! Oh, I’m just so proud of you!”
Although it made him happy to hear, it was also unbelievably embarrassing when she talked like that. Ryuji blushed profusely, dodging her attempt to hug him goodbye. “Ma!”
“Okay, okay I’ll stop. Have a good day at school ‘Yuji! Listen to your teachers!”
…
Meeting the rest of the track team was both exhilarating and nerve-wrecking. Ryuji hadn’t been very popular in middle school, so he was looking forward to the opportunity to reinvent himself.
The members of the track team introduced themselves one by one. There were a few other students in his year – Takeishi, Nakaoka, and Murada. They hit it off instantly, swept up in a wave of enthusiasm, eager to start something new. The upperclassmen were nice too, especially the team captain. His name was Ikeda, and he thought they might really have a shot at nationals this year.
“We have a new coach this year.” Ikeda announced, practically vibrating with excitement. “I think it’s really going to make a difference. He was a professional athlete before he got into coaching. He is an internationally acclaimed firebender, and expert martial artist. He was recently listed among the United Republic of Nation’s most influential up-and-coming celebrities, and he is widely considered to be a national treasure.”
The team buzzed, their captain’s enthusiasm infectious. Some of the upperclassmen smirked at each other, already in the know. Ryuji and the rest of the first years hung on to the edge of Ikeda’s words like a lifeline, bracing for the moment he relieved them of their anticipation.
“So, without further ado, I’d like to introduce everyone to our new coach, Mr. Kamoshida Suguru!”
As Ikeda finished speaking, a figure stepped into the gymnasium. The team erupted into applause, and several people gasped. Ryuji himself couldn’t stop gaping like a fish.
Because Ikeda wasn’t joking. There, standing before them, in the flesh, was one of the most well renowned athletes in the country.
“Hello everyone.” Kamoshida said, a wide grin on his face. “I will be taking over your team this year. Thank you, Ikeda, for that warm, if unnecessary, introduction. Now, just to be clear, there’s no need to treat me any differently than you’ve treated your other coaches in the past. Though I appreciate the welcome.”
“Oh my god, oh my god.” Beside Ryuji, Takeishi was mumbling, starstruck. Ryuji completely understood though. This was overwhelming, in the best possible way.
Kamoshida bowed in greeting, the team cheering him on. Slowly, a smile spread across Ryuji’s face, and before he knew it, he was whooping and clapping and jumping along with the rest of the team.
He’d already had high hopes for the year. But now he was ecstatic, overjoyed. Things weren’t just turning up.
They were better than anything he could have ever imagined.
…
“Do you think Kamoshida will leave the team? When the new Avatar is announced, I mean.” Nakaoka asked one day, during their pre-conditioning stretches.
Ryuji frowned. “I dunno. Never thought of it.”
“Of course you wouldn’t have, Sakamoto.” Takeishi teased. “Not much going on up there but running. You’ve got a one-track mind. Literally.”
Ryuji laughed along with the rest of the first years, pushing deeper into a seated forward fold.
“No, but really. What do you guys think?” Nakaoka pressed.
Takeishi rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Of course he will. He’d be dumb not to. Who’d choose coaching high school track over eternal glory?”
Ryuji released his feet, shaking out of his stretch. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not that glamourous. Is it?”
The rest of his teammates stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Ryuji immediately felt self-conscious.
“What?” He asked, defensive.
“Dude… yes, it is.” Murada said. “Like, he’s famous now, sure, but that’s nothing compared to what he’ll become once the Avatar is in the picture. The people who train the Avatar go down in history. It’s like… all of the Avatar’s successes are also their successes, vicariously, through having like… influenced and assisted them. Don’t you pay attention in class? I mean, come on. Asami Sato, Lin Beifong, Fire Lord Carmen, Fire Lord Zuko. We remember them for a reason.”
“Okay fair.” Ryuji conceded. “But you gotta admit, man, you just listed a bunch of world leaders.”
“That’s my point.” Murada insisted. “They were world leaders because the Avatar was their side, not in spite of it.”
Ryuji thought about it. “I guess.” He said, then wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, you don’t think Coach Kamoshida’s gonna try to go into… like… politics after this, do you?”
Maruda huffed. “Maybe I used bad examples. You don’t have to be a politician to get written about in the history books. Anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock their whole lives could tell you exactly why “Katara” is still such a popular name among waterbenders. Like… there’s a whole documentary on Korra’s companion, Bolin. And that guy wasn’t exactly leading nations. Plus, even you could tell me who Toph Beifong was, who Monk Gyatso was, who Tenzin of the Air Nomads was. And all of those people died like a century ago! And like, you still hear about Avatar Wakaba’s companions regularly in the news. You get it now?”
“Okay geez.” Ryuji rolled his eyes. “You’ve made your point. It’s a big deal or whatever. Consider me enlightened.”
Just in time, Captain Ikeda swooped in to save him from further embarrassment. He loudly clapped his hands to gain everyone’s attention.
“Alright! Enough stretching!” He shouted, running around to round everyone up as energetically as possible. “Time to hit the track! Up! Up! Up!”
…
“I’m very disappointed in you all.” Kamoshida said, arms crossed, mouth pressed in a straight line. Ryuji was breathing hard and feeling a little dizzy, but he was doing much better than some of the other guys. Nakaoka literally puked not even ten minutes ago.
“I thought you wanted to go to nationals. I was told I would be coaching a group of motivated, talented young athletes. Not a bunch of lazy children. The only one of you making any progress at all is Sakamoto, and that’s not saying much. Don’t you want to be great athletes? Don’t you want to go to nationals?”
The team didn’t verbally respond, too out of breath to do much more than nod. Kamoshida didn’t like this. He snapped at them, a harsh bite to his words.
“Don’t you?!”
“Yes, coach.” The team rallied to please him.
“What was that?!” Kamoshida cupped a hand around his ear.
“Yes, coach!”
“Well, it certainly doesn’t show.” He sneered. “Next time, I want to see some real effort. You don’t get anywhere by sitting on your ass all day. You are dismissed.”
As the team hobbled tiredly towards the showers, Ryuji paused to talk to Nakaoka.
“Hey man, you okay?”
“Yeah….” Nakaoka sighed. “Still feeling a little queasy… I’d appreciate if you’d forget you saw any of that… ugh.”
“No problem.” Ryuji patted him on the shoulder. “Drink some water. You gotta rehydrate.”
Nakaoka snorted, but looked appreciative, nonetheless. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Hey, Sakamoto! Come here for a second.”
Ryuji turned away from Nakaoka to see the team captain standing near the benches, waving him over. Giving Nakaoka a quick parting bump on the shoulder, Ryuji briskly approached.
“Hey. What’s up?” He asked upon arrival, inexplicably nervous to face the upperclassman. This was the first time they’d spoken one-on-one.
Captain Ikeda’s smile was subdued compared to the typical, overenthusiastic grins that he wore when addressing the team as a whole. Subdued, but not insincere. Still, it wasn’t what Ryuji was used to, so it only added to his anxiety. Was he in trouble or something?
“Just wanted to check in on you after Coach Kamoshida singled you out in the debrief. You good?”
“Huh?” Ryuji sputtered, genuinely surprised. “Uh… yeah why wouldn’t I be?”
Ikeda shrugged.
“I mean, he was kinda complimenting me… in a backwards sorta way…. Wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, but I know how much it can suck to get singled out, even if coach didn’t mean anything by it. You know how it gets with varsity sports. People get competitive. So, if anyone starts giving you a hard time, I want you to let me know. It’s coach’s job to bring out the best in us, and yes, sometimes that might mean pushing extra hard and riling everyone up. But I’m your captain, and it’s my job to make sure things don’t get too out of hand. We’re a team – at the end of the day, we’ve got to have each other’s backs. So let me know if you ever feel like you’re being mistreated. I’ll handle it. Cool?”
Ryuji blinked. His throat felt tight. Ikeda was looking at him with a kindness he’d only ever received from his mother before.
“Um. Yeah. Cool.”
“Good.” Captain Ikeda smiled like he was relieved. “Now hit the showers. You reek.”
…
Their first official meet was in the fall, just before the start of the term, and Ryuji was the only first-year selected to compete.
He bounced from foot to foot, warming up his ankles. This was it – the moment he’d been waiting for. Today, he was going to reinvent himself. He was going to show everyone he wasn’t the same stupid nobody kid he’d been in middle school.
Somewhere in the crowd, his mom was there, cheering him on. That thought was deeply embarrassing, so he was glad he couldn’t see her. He kept his eyes focused on the lower stands, which made it easier to focus on what was right in front of him – a group of high school girls leaning over the railing, waving their arms and attempting to get the attention of some of the upperclassmen.
One of the girls shouted the captain’s name, and he paused his stretching to smirk in their direction, offering them a friendly wave before returning to his warm-up routine. The girls giggled amongst themselves, and Ryuji ducked his head to hide the giddy little grin spreading across his face. He could see why the girls were fawning so hard over the captain. Ikeda-sempai was confident, and he had every right to be. He was well-built from years of running track, lean and toned but not too skinny or too big. He was handsome too, but didn’t seem to be aware of it. Plus, he was super friendly and nice. Obviously, girls would be all over him.
Ryuji wondered if one day girls would be fawning over him the same way the fawned over Captain Ikeda. Chewing his bottom lip, he scanned the crowd for any students he recognized. In a heart-stopping moment, his eyes landed on Ann Takamaki.
She wasn’t paying attention to the meet, fully absorbed in conversation with a black-haired girl that Ryuji didn’t recognize. Still, the fact that she was here at all had his heart beating in overdrive. Ann had been the most popular girl in his middle school. She was stunningly beautiful, foreign, and totally mysterious. They’d only interacted a handful of times, but Ryuji may have been harboring a bit of a crush on her.
He imagined her in the place of the girls who’d been cheering for Ikeda. Maybe a few years down the line, he’d be standing in this exact spot, and she’d be pressed against the railing, shouting his name, desperate for his attention. The thought, unrealistic as it was, filled Ryuji with a surge of competitive energy. He shook out his hands. He was going to crush this race.
…
“I didn’t know you were a firebender, Sakamoto.” Kamoshida said, pulling Ryuji aside one day at the end of practice.
“Oh, yeah.” Ryuji huffed, still out of breath from training. “I don’t, um, practice very much. But yeah, I’m a firebender.”
“Want to change that?”
“Huh?”
Kamoshida smiled. “You’re a talented kid. You’ve got athleticism, but more importantly, you’ve got drive. In addition to coaching track, I’ve taken over the competitive firebending team here at Shujin. Given the effort I see you putting into track, I think you could have a real future in firebending.”
“Oh… I don’t know.” Ryuji laughed, flattered despite himself. “I uh… it’s just, fighting’n all that? I’m not sure it’s really for me.”
“I think you could have a real future in it. I mean, firebending is a much more popular sport than running. What are you planning to do with track once you graduate? There just aren’t as many opportunities. I’m trying to look out for you. It would be a shame if you let all of your talent go to waste.”
“It’s just,” Ryuji shuffled awkwardly. “I don’t really like firebending. My old man… when he’d get angry he used to… sort of… well.”
Ryuji frowned, struggling to find the right words. This wasn’t something he talked about much, especially with teachers. But Kamoshida wasn’t just a teacher – he was his coach. Wasn’t Ryuji supposed to be able to confide in him? He twisted his hands in the front of his shirt. “He was always, like, setting things on fire. My old man, I mean. He’d lose his temper and then – BAM – there goes the couch. I can’t really stand the smell of smoke anymore. It bothers me like… man, I don’t even know how to explain it, but it just really gets under my skin. Plus, I’ve patched enough burns to know how much of a bitch they can be – uh! I mean, how painful they can be.” Ryuji grimaced, correcting himself. “Sorry, sir.”
Kamoshida shook his head, holding up a hand. “No need to apologize, Sakamoto. I understand. But I also think you’re letting a small issue from the past hold you back. There’s money in firebending, I know that more than most. Think of the sponsorships, the scholarships, the competitions, the frequency with which they’re televised. Track just doesn’t get the same appreciation. And the smoke issue? Not generally a problem in competitive firebending. The goal is to AVOID setting things on fire. At the end of the day, firebending is a martial art.”
“I… I hear ya.” Ryuji cast his eyes downwards, frowning. On the one hand, Kamoshida was a professional bender. If he thought Ryuji had the talent to go pro, he meant it. On the other hand… track was special to Ryuji. When things at home got too hot to handle, or when he was feeling lonely or depressed, track was there for him. It had always been there for him – a community. An escape. He didn’t want to give that up.
Abruptly, Kamoshida’s phone rang. He looked down to check the caller ID, and cursed. “I have to take this.” Kamoshida said, raising his phone to his ear and starting to walk away. “For now, just think about it. We’ll talk again soon.”
“Okay….” Ryuji said to Kamoshida’s retreating back. Even as he was left alone, he stood there, frozen in thought.
He looked at his hands. The tiny silver scars littering his fingers and arms were probably imperceptible to most people, but to Ryuji they stood out like the last few smoldering embers in a dying fire. He scowled at them, contempt boiling up from deep within. Maybe he was being stubborn, or dramatic or hotheaded and irrational or acting like a bratty little kid or something, but….
He didn’t want to be a firebender.
Not now. Not ever.
…
Ma was home more often these days.
“How was practice today?” She asked, hovering over her bowl of steaming ramen and letting it get her hair all frizzy. She snagged a big chunk of noodles and slurped them into her mouth. Ryuji made a face.
“Fine.” He sighed, picking at his pork.
“Just fine? You’ve been winning a lot lately. Don’t think I don’t notice that little fanclub you’ve got started. Any girls catch yer eye?”
“Ugh. Ma!” Ryuji’s face heated.
She laughed. “I’m just teasing, ya know? But seriously, you’ll tell me when you get yourself a little girlfriend, right? You’ll bring her over f'r dinner?”
Ryuji made a show of quickly chugging down the rest of his broth, finishing his bowl in record time. He slammed his now empty bowl on the table and burped at the same time.
“Well, this was fun! But I’ve got homework to do now! Lots of homework! Later!”
He quickly excused himself, rushing to his room. Even through his freshly shut door, he could hear his mother’s cackling.
…
Ma was home more often these days. Even though she frequently got under his skin with all her teasing and nagging and relentless prying into his nonexistent love life, he felt… good about it. Safe.
Home was safe. Rarely did they have any broken appliances. Dishes didn’t pile up like they used to. And things were clean. It was… strange. But it was also kinda nice.
Ryuji knew it was because of his scholarship. If they had to pay for books and school tuition on top of everything else, Ryuji’s mom would still be working two jobs. Thanks to the nice stipend they’d been given by Shujin, she was down to only one job, which meant she was around more often.
At first, the change was jarring. Ryuji only really saw his mom after school back when his father was living with them and contributing to their income. When he left, though, Ma had to work long hours to keep them afloat. Ryuji didn’t see much of her those days. Now though, now he saw her all the time. It made him tense at first. Like, because she was around that meant he was around too. For the first couple of weeks, Ryuji was constantly on edge, irrationally worried his dad was going to walk back in through the front door of their apartment at a moment’s notice.
Over time though, that fear had settled down, and he started to actually enjoy their new living arrangement. He liked living in a clean apartment, and having fresh smelling laundry, and healthy food for dinner. And, he liked how bright his mom was looking, the way the bags under her eyes had started to shrink and the way her hair was getting all shiny like he’d never seen it before.
It motivated him. It made him want to work harder, push himself farther, run faster. He felt useful. Track was more than just running, it was how he was going to change his life. It was how he was going to save them - himself and his mother - from the cycle of debt and hoarding and exhaustion they’d been locked in for years. And because of that, track meant more to Ryuji than just about anything else.
He couldn’t join the firebending team, because then he’d have to give up his scholarship, and consequently, his whole purpose. The truth was, he’d never be motivated to firebend the same way he was motived to run.
Mr. Kamoshida would understand.
…
Ryuji crossed the finish line to the sound of wild cheering. Stumbling to a stop, he would have keeled over if not for the way his teammates immediately rushed the track, yelling exuberantly as they swarmed him.
“You did it! You did it!”
“Your time - holy shit, Sakamoto!”
“First place! First fucking place! You’re a beast!”
Ryuji laughed, wiping sweat out of his eyes before opening his arms and sinking into the enthusiastic embrace of his team. High on the energy of the crowd, he allowed his team to escort him off the field to where Coach Kamoshida was standing. He could barely focus on his coach though, because behind him in the stands, there was a group of girls in his year. They were cheering, jumping and clapping fervently. Among them, Ann Takamaki. And they were all looking at him. Waving for him. Screaming for him.
It was everything he’d ever wanted.
“Nice work, Sakamoto!” Captain Ikeda slapped him on the back, pulling Ryuji’s attention away from the girls. “You killed it!”
“Thank you, I – ” Ryuji paused to catch his breath, blushing. “It was nothin’.”
“Nothing, my ass! We’re going to nationals!”
Suddenly, he was being offered a towel. Ryuji accepted it gratefully, patting his face dry just as he reached Coach Kamoshida.
“Well done, Sakamoto.” Kamoshida said, smiling in approval. If Ryuji hadn’t already been grinning so hard, he was sure he would be now. He practically beamed, glowing under the praise of one of the hardest coaches he’d ever worked with.
Basking in praise, floating from his runner’s high, swimming in success, overjoyed that his hard work had paid off, Ryuji wondered if it could ever get better than this. He was popular. He was successful. He was going to make it.
After having spent so much of his life believing he’d amount to nothing, that last thought alone nearly brought tears to his eyes. He was going to make it.
Life might not be so bad after all.
- Thursday April 14th, 20XX -
The sharp sound of an alarm filled a small musty room. Ryuji groaned, rolling over to silence it. He laid there for a while, blinking miserably at the time displayed on his phone.
Another effing day.
On his way out of bed, Ryuji knocked over a pile of unfolded clothes. He hissed, kicking the clothes to the side and hobbling in the direction of the bathroom. Upon entering the living space, he did his best to keep his eyes on his feet, ignoring the stacks upon stacks of papers piled up on the coffee table and the clothes hung haphazardly across the furniture. He wrinkled his nose, cursing at the scent of rot coming from somewhere in the room. The garbage probably needed to be taken out.
Entering the bathroom was a reprieve. Generally, it was cleaner in here, if a bit cluttered. Still half-asleep, Ryuji started going about his morning routine. It wasn’t until he was getting out of the shower that he was awake enough to really be conscious of his actions.
Stepping onto the bathmat, Ryuji started toweling off.
This was, arguably, his least favorite part of the day. It didn’t matter how many times he’d patted himself dry, or how many times he’d looked at himself in the mirror, the sight of his body always felt as unnerving, as painful as it had the very first time he’d seen it.
Ryuji worked quickly, turning his back to the mirror. He knew how he’d look anyway. Soft and skinny from his newly sedentary life. Weak. Disfigured.
He couldn’t avoid looking at his legs though. He pressed his towel to the ugly, mottled, red and pink expanse of skin stretching from his mid-thigh to his knee, massaging it along the way, just like his doctors recommended. Feeling dry enough, he wrapped the towel around his waist and headed back to his room to get dressed. Upon finishing his morning routine, Ryuji made a beeline for the front door. As much as he hated school, he hated spending time in this cramped, cluttered apartment just as much. He locked the door behind him, his mother having already left for work, and bolted down the stairs.
Another effing day living as the world’s biggest fuckup. Stepping onto the street, Ryuji took a deep breath of the fresh Spring air. This is life, he thought. Chaos, disappointment, pain and betrayal – this was his life. This would always be his life.
He was foolish for ever having hoped for more.
“Yo, Kurusu! How are you doin’, man?”
The second he got the chance, Ryuji glued himself to the transfer student’s side. They hadn’t gotten a chance to talk yesterday, which had bummed Ryuji out more than he’d anticipated, so today he was determined to make up for lost time. The last he’d seen Kurusu, he was being escorted to the principal’s office, which couldn’t have been good.
Kurusu looked as miserable as always, if a little more rested. He still had bags under his eyes though.
“Hey Sakamoto.” He sighed. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah?” Ryuji grinned, bumping shoulders with him. “You can be straight with me, bro. No need to pretend. I saw you going into Kobayakawa’s office yesterday. What was that about?”
Kurusu eyed him tiredly. “Let’s get to the roof first.”
“Okay.”
Once they’d settled in their usual lunch spot, Kurusu began talking unprompted. “Takeishi filed a complaint, and a request to change rooms. Long story short, I’m getting kicked out of the dorms.”
“WHAT?!” Ryuji screeched immediately. That was bullshit! “That’s bullshit!”
“Well….” Kurusu frowned, doing that thing where he fiddled with his hair again. He alternated between twisting a curl around his index finger, and actively tugging on it. Must’ve been a nervous habit or something. “The thing is… I can’t really blame them for kicking me out. It’s not just Takeishi’s complaint. I mean, yeah, that was bullshit. But I sort of also… damaged my room. Pretty badly.”
“Huh?” Ryuji’s outrage turned to confusion. “How?”
“I, um, sometimes firebend in my sleep. Which is part of the reason I was taking that medicine I told you about.”
“Oh.” Ryuji frowned, processing that. “I thought you weren’t a bender?”
“I’m not supposed to be.” Kurusu stressed, looking increasingly frustrated. “Well, I mean, yes. I am – a bender, I mean. But I haven’t been able to produce a flame hot enough to burn anything in years. Since I’ve been off my meds though, I’ve been, like, dialed way up. I can feel it – my chi. It’s all over the place. The first night I that I tried to sleep, I burned my ceiling. And last night… man, I don’t even want to talk about last night. I just want to get back to normal. I feel like I’m losing control. I don’t like it. But my stupid probation officer won’t pick up his phone, and hasn’t returned any of my voicemails and the school’s been no help at all, so like, what am I supposed to do? Not sleep?”
“That’s rough….”
“Yeah….” He started picking at his food.
“Well, would you want to go to the arcade today after school?” Ryuji blurted out before he could help himself. Kurusu seemed surprised by the suggestion, which made Ryuji feel a little self-conscious. He scrambled to explain himself. “You know, shoot the shit and blow off some steam. That always helps me when I’m in a funk. There’s one not too far from here, actually. If you’re interested. Man, I don’t even know if you like video games! You like video games, right? And arcades?”
“Relax,” Kurusu laughed. “Yeah, I like video games. But I’ve sort of committed to helping set up for the rally after school today.”
“Oh.” Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to hide his disappointment. “Wait, you mean the firebending rally? How’d you get roped into that?”
“It’s… kind of a long story.” Kurusu fiddled with his chopsticks. “You know that girl in my class, Takamaki?”
“Takamaki?” Ryuji squinted. What did she have to do with anything? “Yeah, I know her.”
“The other day, Ms. Kawakami asked me to go get a box of supplies for her out of the storage room in the gym. When I did, I saw her in there. With Mr. Kamoshida.”
“Ugh.” Ryuji tried not to roll his eyes, a surge of anger welling up from within. “You’d think they’d be smart enough not to sneak around at school. Gross.”
“I – well.” Kurusu frowned. “I know everyone says they’re dating and all but, thing is, I’m not so sure about that.”
“Okay…?”
“Whatever was going on, it just, didn’t look….” Kurusu paused, staring off into the distance as if he could pull the correct word from thin air. “…. Consensual” he finally settled on.
The metal leg of a chair screeched against concrete as Ryuji leaned away. He tilted his head back, grappling with this new information. It… didn’t really make sense to him. He furrowed his brow, lips turning down in thought. “What do you mean?”
“The second she saw me, Takamaki ran to my side. And like, she kinda seemed… nervous.”
“What? But that’s impossible. If she didn’t want to be with him, why wouldn’t she just tell him to fuck off?”
“I dunno.” Kurusu shrugged, then turned his attention to his noodles, finally taking a bite to eat. “Maybe she’s scared?”
“Scared?” Ryuji couldn’t help but scoff. What did Takamaki have to be scared of? She wasn’t into sports, so she had no relation to Kamoshida there. She wasn’t in any of his classes, so it’s not like she needed to please him to get a good grade. And she had a good reputation! Rich parents, popular friends, a whole-ass modelling career on the side – Takamaki had it made! Ryuji always figured she was just using Kamoshida for his fame or something. “Why would she be scared of Kamoshida?”
“Well….” A bird chirped overhead. Kurusu set down his chopsticks and pushed his lunch away, as if suddenly repulsed by it. “I’m afraid of Kamoshida.” He admitted, though it looked like it physically pained him to do so.
Ryuji snapped his jaw shut, abruptly realizing that he’d left it hanging open. “You are?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you?” When Ryuji didn’t immediately respond, he continued. “I mean, that day in the storage room, that was the first time I’d ever met him and he was… intimidating to say the least. He seemed pissed that I’d interrupted. And then, in my meeting with Principal Kobayakawa, he was really going after me. It felt, like, personal I guess. Like he’s got a grudge against me already, just for walking in when I did. And I just can’t shake the feeling that he’s not going to let it go. And he’s powerful. You said it yourself. He’s got influence. What if he makes it his personal mission to harass me every day? Or tries to get me expelled? I mean, he basically already tried to get me expelled. So yeah, I’m scared of him. Is it that crazy to think she might be too?”
“I… guess not.” Ryuji agreed, though he was still struggling to wrap his head around it all. The idea that Takamaki might be afraid of Kamoshida was so at odds with everything he’d believed that it was hard to grasp. Takamaki was shallow - that’s why she was with Kamoshida. At least, Ryuji had never been given any reason to think otherwise. “Wait, what does any of this have to do with you helping to set up for the rally?”
“Oh, right.” Kurusu said, taking a moment to adjust his glasses. “I walked her back to Ms. Kawakami’s classroom. She made up this, honestly really blatant lie that she’d agreed to help Ms. Kawakami with decorating for the rally. Then Ms. Kawakami asked us to help out for real, and I agreed.”
“Wait you’re going with Takamaki?!” Ryuji shouted, slamming his hands down on the table and practically jumping out of his seat, inexplicably outraged.
Kurusu was undisturbed. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I think a lot of students are helping out. Probably.”
“Wha…?” Ryuji wheezed, slowly sitting back down. “Why’d you agree? Seems kinda like a pain in the ass, if you ask me.”
“I kind of want to check on her, I guess? Like if Kamoshida ends up going too. I want to confirm my suspicions.”
“Even though you’re scared of him?”
Kurusu smiled wryly, lifting one shoulder in the world’s most half-assed shrug. “Yeah, I know. It doesn’t make sense to me, either. Guess I’m just a slut for punishment.”
Ryuji made a face at the phrasing, but in a weird way… he kind of got it. After all, hadn’t he been exactly the same way with the track team? Being afraid of Kamoshida didn’t stop him from lashing out back then, and it sure as hell hasn’t stopped him since. Even though he now knew just how much Kamoshida was capable of.
“Okay….” Ryuji nodded, processing. “Okay. I’m going with you.”
“Huh?” It was Kurusu’s turn to sputter in surprise. Ash grey eyes widened behind thick frames. A lock of black hair swooped across his forehead as he tilted his head in confusion.
A devious grin slowly spread across Ryuji’s face. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t pass up on an opportunity to mess with Kamoshida. Besides, what else could Kamoshida take from him? His scholarship? Already gone. His other leg? It wouldn’t even matter.
He had nothing left to lose.
“Yeah, man.” Ryuji doubled down. “I’m going with you.”
When Ryuji arrived in the gymnasium, he was met with surprise and apprehension.
“Sakamoto, you’re here too….” Ms. Kawakami said, eyeing him suspiciously as he stepped into place beside the transfer student.
“I invited him.” Kurusu said, quick and firm, leaving no room for discussion. Ryuji’s glower turned to a smug grin. He threw an arm across the transfer student’s shoulders, challenging Ms. Kawakami to tell him to get lost.
It was weird – none of the teachers had warmed up to Ryuji since his reputation went sour, despite the fact that they’d known him before, but Kawakami seemed to have warmed up to the delinquent transfer student pretty quickly. He would wonder why, except he kind of felt like he already knew. There was just something about the way Kurusu carried himself. He was unassuming. Nonthreatening. And despite the way he tried to blend into the background, he had a weird sort of magnetism – if you bothered to give him a chance. At least, that’s what Ryuji thought. He figured Kawakami was feeling the same thing.
“Okay well… the more help the better, I suppose. You see those boxes over there? Help carry them over to the far wall. They’re full of streamers.”
“You got it.” Ryuji grinned, pulling the transfer student along with him as they got to work.
“So,” Kurusu started speaking once they were alone again, grabbing one of the boxes Kawakami had pointed out. “What’s the deal with this rally, anyway? I’m not sure I totally understand it. Is it like a school pride kinda thing?”
“Sort of.” Ryuji said, grabbing his own box. “We’ve always had an assembly at the beginning of the year, but when Kamoshida started working here, he took it over – turned it into this big firebending celebration. Guy’s full of himself, I’m tellin’ you.”
Kurusu’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, I kind of noticed. But like, what do we do?”
“We don’t do anything.” The clammer of their fellow students died down as they walked by them, only to return to full volume once they’d passed. Cowards, Ryuji thought. Can’t even handle a couple of delinquents carrying streamers an’ shit. He tried his best to ignore their stares. “Kamoshida and the firebending team do a little Agni Kai demonstration. Last year he pulled a few volunteers from the audience to battle. Says it’s supposed to be ‘inclusive’ and encourage ‘participation’ or something dumb like that, but really, I think he just likes taking any opportunity he can get to wail on some poor inexperienced benders and show off. Then the band leads us in some school cheers and we go home early. It’s dumb.”
“Yeah, sounds pretty dumb.” The transfer student agreed. Together, they set their boxes down and walked back to grab the next set.
That’s when they saw her – Takamaki. Kurusu bumped his shoulder into Ryuji’s, capturing his attention before inclining his head in her direction, a silent request that he look her way. She was with a group of girls. Seemed like they were painting a banner of some sort.
Just then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, Kamoshida appeared. He walked up to the girls and started conversing. Several of the students blushed – one of the girls even started playing with her hair, smiling coyly. Even Takamaki looked up and smiled at him, making polite small talk. Sure, she didn’t look as enthusiastic as the other girls, but she didn’t look nervous or anything either. Disgust painted itself all over Ryuji’s face. He couldn’t stand to watch this.
But he forced himself to, for the transfer student. Usually by this point, Ryuji would have stormed off in a rage, but Kurusu was fixed to his spot, staring off in their direction, waiting. For what? Ryuji still wasn’t sure, but he liked the transfer student enough to humor him.
So, for the first time, Ryuji stayed to watch. He watched Kamoshida take a step closer to Takamaki, asking her something directly. He watched her face change – flatten – into something more neutral. Blank. Reserved. Like she was trying to hide her excitement. He watched her drop her painting supplies, brush off her leggings, and stand. And just as she was about to wander off with him, presumably to help with another task (or go make out in a closet like the sickeningly inappropriate couple Ryuji was convinced they were), the transfer student interfered.
“Hey, Takamaki-san!” Kurusu was rushing forward before Ryuji had time to process. He walked up to them with a confidence Ryuji didn’t know he possessed, and started talking as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him. “There you are! Ms. Kawakami was asking for you!”
Everyone was staring at him – the girls who’d been painting, Takamaki, Kamoshida. Ryuji gaped. Man, for a guy who’d just admitted that he was afraid of Kamoshida literally only a few hours ago, he was ballsy as hell. It inspired Ryuji to move forward. He walked closer, eager to get a better view.
Takamaki looked startled. She swiveled her head, looking between Kurusu and Kamoshida like she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Kamoshida, on the other hand, looked furious.
“I – oh – she is?” Takamaki blinked, wide eyed.
“Yep.” Kurusu nodded. “She said it was urgent.”
Kamoshida looked like he was moments away from blowing steam, he was turning so red. Ryuji watched in delighted astonishment.
“Oh! Well in that case I’ll go find her right away!” Takamaki exclaimed. “I’m so sorry Mr. Kamoshida. Someone else will have to help you set up the display.”
“Apparently….” Kamoshida looked straight past Takamaki, staring Kurusu down, menacing. Kurusu didn’t even flinch. “I supposed I’ll get someone else. You! Mishima! Follow me, I need some help with something.” He snapped, randomly selecting the first student his eyes landed on, a second year Ryuji recognized as being on the firebending team. Mishima jolted to attention, immediately dropping whatever he was doing to obediently follow his coach. Together, they started walking briskly towards the exit to the gym, Mishima trailing behind.
The second they were out of earshot, Takamaki started fiddling with her hair. “Um… what did Ms. Kawakami want?” She avoided looking directly at the transfer student, and as her eyes flitted around the room, they landed on Ryuji. For a strange moment, they locked eyes. The expression on Takamaki’s face shifted, going from vaguely anxious, to confused, to that kinda prissy look Ryuji was used to seeing her wear. She scowled, holding her chin up high and tossing her hair over her shoulders as if she were trying to look down on him. It made Ryuji’s blood boil. He scowled right back.
Kurusu was saying something, but neither Ann nor Ryuji was paying attention.
“Actually, I’ll go ask her myself!” Takamaki said abruptly, not bothering to grace Kurusu with even a look of acknowledgment – without even a thank you. She stormed off, presumably to look for Ms. Kawakami.
The transfer student calmly walked back over to Ryuji, who stared after Takamaki, scoffing as she disappeared somewhere in the gym.
Trying to push the sudden rush of negativity down, Ryuji returned his attention to Kurusu. “Dude, you’re crazy!” He said, gently punching him in the shoulder. For a brief moment, something mischievous and daring danced in the transfer student’s eyes. He smiled wryly, then let out a big sigh.
“I’m not gonna lie. I was kinda shitting myself. I don’t know why I did that.”
“Well, you didn’t look it!” Ryuji exclaimed, beaming with newfound respect. Man, he was glad he decided to take a chance on the delinquent transfer student. Guy was full of surprises. “Kamoshida’s totally gonna kill you! But god… the look on his face. That’s gonna keep me going for days, man, days. He looked like he was gonna pop a blood vessel! Hilarious.”
Kurusu laughed, and together they resumed their work, falling into step side-by-side. It was really nice. Ryuji hadn’t felt this in sync with someone in a long time. Maybe never.
“Dude, I know. He’s gonna come after me, I can feel it. But I just couldn’t help myself….”
“Yeah. Too bad you did all that to help Takamaki, though. She didn’t seem all that grateful.”
“I don’t know.” Kurusu shrugged. They set down their next set of boxes. “I think maybe she was just a little overwhelmed?”
Ryuji snorted at the thought. Kurusu was too nice for his own good. He must have been one of those sheltered types who believed people were inherently good before he’d gotten shipped off the Shujin. Actually, yeah. Now that Ryuji thought about it, that would totally make sense. Didn’t he get a record for interfering in an assault? He was totally some kind of sheltered do-gooder who didn’t understand how the world worked. Ryuji could kind of sympathize with that… he’d been like that himself. A little. Before, well, everything.
“Overwhelmed, sure.” He rolled his eyes. Inexplicably, he felt like he needed to protect Kurusu from his own impulses, as well-intentioned as they were. Dude was gonna get himself expelled for some girl who didn’t give a shit about him. “Or your theory was wrong and she knows exactly what she’s doing getting involved with Kamoshida.”
The transfer student argued. “Or she’s in over her head and doesn’t have anyone to turn to for help.”
“I don’t get why you’re being so easy on her man, when all she’s done is act like a total bitch.”
“Hey!” Kurusu chastised him immediately. His head swiveled in Ryuji’s direction so quickly he was surprised it didn’t snap. “Don’t say that.”
“I – what?” Ryuji paled. There was a disappointed note to Kurusu’s voice that cut him deeper than any harsh words ever could. “No, man, come’on. You know what I meant. I – ugh. It’s just, like, you get it, right? The way she doesn’t give you the time’a’day, even when you’re just trying to help. Pisses me off. Like – what’s her problem? She doesn’t have to be such a – so cold about things.”
The transfer student continued to frown at him, as if assessing for some ulterior motive. Ryuji shrunk under his gaze, shoulders tensing up to his ears. Damn. The guy had that stern teacher stare down to a science. Guilt ate at Ryuji, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be feeling bad about.
After what had felt like an eternity of silence, Kurusu finally had mercy on him. “What’s your deal with her anyway?” He asked. “Did you guys used to date or something?”
“WHAT?” He screeched. WAS KURUSU INSANE?! “No! No, no, no – me and her!? No, spirits, no.”
“Keep your voice down.” Kurusu kindly reminded him, glancing around the gym. A few heads had turned in their direction. The flush on Ryuji’s cheeks darkened. Man, he was really on a roll today, huh? “So, you didn’t date. Why are you so mad at her, then?”
“Mad at her? I’m not mad at her.” He defended. Was he mad at her? Ryuji didn’t really know. Unconsciously, he rolled out his leg, clutching at the place where he knew his scar was thickest, digging in with his fingertips. “We were… friends once. Sort of.”
Kurusu’s gaze softened as he nodded, silently prodding Ryuji to continue.
“Okay, so we went to the same middle school, right? We weren’t friends then though. But I always thought she was, I dunno, nice? And kinda cool. I thought she was….” Better than this, he doesn’t say. Ryuji felt raw, the realization that his feelings about Takamaki ran deeper than just anger crashing down on him. He floundered, throat suddenly feeling tight and dry. Through it all, Kurusu kept looking at him, with that stupidly kind look on his face. Open and honest and accepting. Ryuji didn’t deserve it. He sucked in a sharp breath. He needed to wrap this up before he got too emotional and made things weird.
“Uh, anyway – long story short we started talking some time after starting high school. And – like I already said – I thought she was cool. Then all the stuff with Kamoshida happened. Um, I don’t remember if I told you before, but Kamoshida put me in the hospital. For like two months. Which absolutely demolished my mom’s savings and ended any career I had as an athlete. And Ann knew about that! She knew about it, and she still went and got together with him. Never – never said anything to me either. Just started treating me like everyone else. Ignoring me ‘n shit. So, okay, maybe I am kinda pissed at her. I just thought she was someone different, you know? I didn’t used to think she was, well, the way she is. Shallow and self-absorbed. I guess figuring it out made me feel kinda foolish. Like I was an idiot for ever thinking highly of her. So, um. That’s my deal. Sorry for dumping all that on you, man. I know you asked but… I didn’t mean to get all sentimental ‘n shit. Ugh.”
Ryuji rubbed his temple, avidly avoiding Kurusu’s eyes. He knew what he’d find there – that same gentle acceptance he’d used on Takamaki just minutes ago. Like he didn’t give a shit how nasty someone was to him – if he could understand what they were going through, it didn’t matter. He shouldn’t be so trusting, Ryuji thought. Didn’t he know how awful people were? Didn’t he realize that for all of his good intentions, Ryuji would just end up dragging him down? He could do so much better. They hadn’t known each other for very long, but Ryuji could already tell, despite his criminal record, Kurusu had potential for a bright future. Maybe it wouldn’t be easy to achieve, but it was possible. He was likeable and level-headed, and he seemed kinda smart. Plus, under those dorky glasses, he was kinda good-looking. People loved attractive people! They could get away with anything! Just look at Takamaki.
Shit. He was spiraling.
His leg started tapping of its own accord, and he was sweating. He chewed his bottom lip, anxiety spiking in a way it hadn’t for a long time. Spirits, was it hot in here? It seemed kinda hot in here.
“Ryuji, hey.” Kurusu shook him with concern. “Look at me.”
“Ugh, sorry, man. I dunno what’s up with me all of a sudden.”
“That’s okay. Listen, I’m not mad or anything, if that’s what you were worried about? I just wanted to understand better. And from what you said, it totally makes sense why you’d be upset with Takamaki-san. So don’t sweat it. Come on, why don’t we go get some air?”
Absently, Ryuji allowed himself to be pulled towards the exit. They stepped out of the gym and into an empty hallway, before stopping at a bench. Kurusu forcibly turned him, making Ryuji sit down.
“Hang on,” he said, rummaging through his backpack. “I think I have some water. Ah – there it is. Here.”
Ryuji sighed, accepting the offered water bottle and gloomily taking a sip. Today was just the worst.
“Thanks….”
“No problem.”
It took Ryuji a while to recognize where they were, but the second he did, he frowned deeply. They were sitting right across from a glass trophy case – the one where Kamoshida had placed some stupid medal he’d gotten from the Fire Nation. Ryuji always thought that was strange. Why display it at school? Wouldn’t he want to keep it at home? Use it as a talking point when entertaining rich guests or some other stupid reason? Keeping it at school had always struck him as bizarre. Remembering that ridiculous medal did something to him, and slowly, Ryuji’s anxiety gave way to rage.
It wasn’t Kurusu’s fault. He had no way of knowing how much this stupid display would piss him off. Knowing that didn’t stop Ryuji from being pissed, though.
“Ugh, look at this dumb shit!” Ryuji gestured to the trophy case.
“Hm?” Kurusu looked up. “What about it?”
“See that medal? The one shaped like those old-school Fire Nation crowns? The gold one?”
“Oh… yeah….” Kurusu trailed off, staring at the case, a pensive look on his face.
“That’s Kamoshida’s first place medal from some stupid Agni Kai contest he won. How dumb is it that he keeps it here?”
The transfer student didn’t respond. He just kept staring at the display with an odd expression, one that Ryuji didn’t know how to interpret.
“Yo… Earth to Kurusu-kun?”
“…”
“Akira!”
“Huh?” Kurusu blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Oh, yeah. Super dumb.”
“Right? That’s what I’m saying. Like, did he just want another thing to gloat about? Why does he want to impress a bunch of high schoolers so badly, anyway? It’s effin’ weird.”
“Yeah…. Where’d you say this was from, again?”
“Some competition in the Fire Nation. Why?”
Kurusu shrugged. “I don’t know. It just… looks familiar, I guess.”
“Well, you did spend most of your childhood in the Fire Nation, right?” Ryuji laughed. As an afterthought, he handed Akira back his water bottle. “Maybe you guys had similar medals? I mean, it’s a pretty generic design.”
“Yeah, maybe….” Kurusu accepted the bottle and put it away, looking oddly unconvinced. Weird. Ryuji couldn’t fathom what he was getting so freaked out about. It was just a stupid medal. There were probably, like, thousands of medals in the world exactly like this one.
Suddenly shaking himself, as if he had to turn his attention away from that medal by force, Kurusu spun towards Ryuji with a wild grin. “Hey, since we’re already out here, wanna ditch decorating for the night? We could check out that arcade you mentioned?”
Ryuji returned his grin with a wicked one of his own. “My dude. That is the best thing you’ve said all day. Fuck yes. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Notes:
Just an fyi, between Ann and Ryuji I decided to make one a bender and the other not, partly to keep the story from being oversaturated with firebenders, and partly as a nod to Sokka and Katara. At this point, I'm pretty committed to firebender Ryuji, but if anyone has different thoughts for Ann, I am open-minded.
Also speaking of Ann... any ship preferences? Options are Ann x Shiho, Ann x Makoto, or Ann x Peace and Healing (no romance).
Chapter 10: The Rally
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Friday April 15th, 20XX
Worthless. Will they ever come back for him? Or would he die out here, alone on the streets? A cockroach scurried across his bare foot, but Akira was too exhausted to flick it away. He watched it wander around in the dirt for a while, before it eventually disappeared into a storm drain.
No. They weren’t coming back for him. Because he wasn’t worth keeping around. He was a drain on their resources – another mouth to feed, and good for nothing else. He belonged here, in the trash, with the roaches and the rats.
He pulled himself along the dirt towards a small, abandoned shelter made of sticks and old cloth. There, as hunger gnawed at him from the inside, he settled for the night. He closed his eyes. A part of him hoped he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow.
But, as always, he did.
Akira pulled the covers more tightly around himself, blocking the bit of sun that was peaking in from the window. He buried his face in the mattress and pressed his eyelids shut.
This was Akira’s least favorite type of dream. Subtly, it cradled him, whispering thoughts into his head that bled into the waking world. While not as inherently frightening or violent as many of his other dreams were, this kind of dream tended to rob him of the most amount of time. The emotions lingered, making his own thoughts and feelings hard to grasp. His brain refused to process any of the information available in his immediate environment that would otherwise prompt him into action, like the ringing of his alarm clock, or the steady stream of sunlight, too bright for early morning, or the lingering scent of smoke emitting from his charred blanket. He could see and smell and hear all of those things, but their meaning evaded him. He was still in that alleyway, in the dirt, all alone.
Turning onto his back, Akira cracked his eyes open. His ceiling remained burnt, a smokey circle scarring what was otherwise a perfectly white room. He missed his mom and dad.
Fingers twitched in crumpled sheets, but Akira felt only dirt and stone.
Even though they’d left him here to die.
…
…
…
No, that wasn’t right.
A memory rushed to the forefront of his mind – his real mother’s face, ghostly pale and streaked with tears. “Baby… what happened?” She stroked his hair. She was shaking. She was scared.
“I… I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Akira admitted, lower lip wobbling.
“Oh honey….” She spoke, gentle despite the terror in her eyes. “Did you have another one of your episodes?”
She would never abandon him.
Guilt crashed down upon him, so potent that it immediately jolted him out of whatever freaky headspace he’d been in before. Akira shot forward with a gasp as he was abruptly yanked from semi-consciousness and back into his own skin. The ceiling, the blankets, the ringing alarm clock, the sun – it all clicked into place. He was Akira Kurusu, and he was – eyes darted towards the clock – extremely late for school.
The first message Ann received that morning made her squirm.
[Unsaved]: So, today is the day.
[Unsaved]: I hope you’ll be watching me.
She sighed, deciding not to answer right away as she rolled out of bed.
Mr. Kamoshida had been texting her nearly every day for the last couple of months. His bids for attention were becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore. They got under her skin like nothing else, instantly souring her mood.
But, she could deal with it – at least until Shiho became nationally recognized.
As Ann wandered into the kitchen, she clicked on the TV.
“ – ank you all for being here today. So, we need to know – what’s going on with your search? Do you have any leads?”
Blinking sleepily, Ann turned away from the fridge to see that the morning news was playing instead of her usual cartoons. Huh. Her parents must have changed the channel before they left for Ba Sing Se last night. Oh well. She could tolerate this for a while. She returned to rummaging through the fridge.
On screen, three women and two men had video called in to the station. Their faces were backdropped by a variety of different locations. One man appeared to be somewhere cold; the other sat in a boring-looking office. Two of the women seemed to be broadcasting from some kind of refugee camp.
The last woman was in an opulent office decorated in black and gold. She sat with perfect posture, hands folded on the desk in front of her. Golden eyes contrasted sharply against the russet-brown of her skin. Her shiny black hair was parted at the middle and pulled into a low bun. A sleek, finely pressed red blazer opened to reveal an equally refined black shirt. Of all the people on the TV, she was the only one that Ann recognized.
“Thank you for having us here.” Fire Lord Carmen was just as elegant in her manner of speech as she was in her comportment. Ann could only dream of having that kind of poise. “As far as our search goes, I’m afraid we haven’t made any progress. I know that this is not the update you would like to hear, and it’s certainly not the update we’d like to be giving, but my colleagues and I believe that transparency is of the utmost importance.”
“That is unfortunate.” The reporter said, then rolled right into her next question. “As the late Avatar Wakaba’s companions, much of the world looks to you, not only for spiritual guidance and leadership, but also for information regarding the identification and development of her next incarnation. In these uncertain times, the world could use some good news. Or, at the very least, a bit of hope. That said, how do you plan to change your approach in locating the new Avatar?”
As Ann poured herself a bowl of cereal, Fire Lord Carmen nodded.
“After a long discussion, we have decided to restart our search from square one. Traditionally, fire Avatars are identified via bonemancy. However, this practice has failed us. We are looking into alternative methods of identifying the Avatar, as well as planning to broaden our search.”
“I see. Can you elaborate on that a little bit? For our non-firebender views, what exactly is ‘bonemancy’?”
“Bonemancy is the practice of inscribing marks into animal bones, burning them, and interpreting their cracks. The Fire Sages are trained in this art, and have used this method of identification for centuries. However, they theorize that the dramatic increase in population that we’ve seen over the last century may be the reason why bonemancy has failed us this time around. That being said, they have proposed we try sectioning off firebenders into smaller groups, and then perform this ritual to see if they are able to pick up on any spiritual energy.
“The plan is to send a sage to every high school in the Fire Nation and perform the bonemancy there. By decreasing the population size so much, theoretically, they should have an easier time picking up on strong spiritual signals, such as those we would expect to see emanating from the Avatar.”
“How do your Sages know that the bonemancy is being performed correctly? Could that be the root of the issue?”
“Unfortunately, this is a real possibility.” Carmen said. “In the time of Fire Lord Sozen, many records were lost. We have pieced together the ritual as best as we could, but the possibility that something is missing is non-zero.”
Huh. Ann thought, as the reporter and the Fire Lord started to discuss a bunch of fancy spiritual stuff she didn’t really care about. Guess they’re getting desperate.
She sighed, resting her head on her hand and staring into space as an old fantasy resurfaced.
Sometimes, she wished that Shiho would turn out to be the Avatar. It would be kinda poetic too, she thought. Afterall, Shiho was already being trained by Mr. Kamoshida. And then Kamoshida would have nothing left to hold over Ann’s head. Shiho would essentially be above him, in a sense. Ann would be free.
Shiho would make a great Avatar. She was unbelievably kind, and respectful of all people. She didn’t listen to rumors; she made judgements for herself, all on her own. And she was strong – stronger than anyone Ann had ever known. Every day, she rose before dawn to train, then went to school, only to train more after classes concluded. On top of that, she had excellent grades and volunteered on the weekends. And somehow, she still made time for Ann. It boggled her mind how she managed to do all of that and not go completely crazy. Though… she had been seeming more distant lately….
“There’s also the potential that the Avatar was born outside of the Fire Nation.” One of the men was speaking now, a stern looking man in a United Republic military uniform. “That’s why I am advocating, alongside Carmen, for some form of testing to take place among high schools in the URN as well. Currently, I’m working with the government to organize sages to visit the URN and train our teachers in how to perform a proper bonemancy, so that we can screen as many students as quickly as possible.”
“Why not just have the sages come here and perform the bonemancies themselves?” The reporter asked.
“There simply aren’t enough of them. It would take months, if not years, to do it that way. Considering everthing that’s going on, we simply do not have that time to wait. Not to mention, there are firebenders in parts of the Earth Nation as well. To have the fire sages do it alone is just not feasible.”
The reporter nodded. “That makes sense. Thank you, Captain.” She shifted topics. “On that note, Sister Ella, can you update us a little bit on the situation in Si Wong?”
“I’d be happy to.” A bald woman with an arrow tattoo began to speak. “Upon further investigations, Johanna and I believe the sandstorms may be spiritual in origin. However, we have not been able to make contact with the Spirit that may be causing them. That’s why it is so imperative that we locate the Avatar as soon as possible.”
“Yes, and before we get too much further into that – ” The military looking guy interrupted. “ – I’d like to speak to the audience for a moment.”
“Of course, go ahead.”
The guy turned directly to the camera. Ann munched on a bit of her cereal. “For anyone who is listening, we need your help. If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of the Avatar, please call the number below. My team and I will investigate any leads a swiftly as possible.
“For your convenience, my colleagues and I have complied a list of some signs that may indicate your child, friend, or neighbor may be the Avatar. Perhaps the most obvious one is an unusually strong, or even prodigious talent for bending, especially in their native element. Another sign is recurrent spiritual activity; spirits tend to be attracted to the Avatar and are significantly more adept at recognizing them than we humans are. The last sign, and perhaps most challenging one to spot, is a connection with their past lives. According to the literature, this may present differently for every Avatar, and can be as simple as reciting a poem written by a previous incarnation off the top of their head or recognizing an old toy, and as complex as full-blown possessions. Please reach out if you or a loved one experiences any of these signs. Again, the number to call is – ”
Growing bored, Ann switched the channel. She only had so much time before she had to leave for school, after all. Might as well watch something fun and relaxing before the pep rally.
Kamoshida was going to be insufferable today.
Akira’s head was pounding.
He swiftly threw on his gym uniform, powering through despite feeling more out-of-sorts than he ever has before. He was shaky and out of breath, and not just from his dream. No, this was something else.
A long time ago, after he’d started his chi-blockers, his dad got really into spirituality.
Akira remembered it clearly. After he’d expressed to his father his fears over losing his bending, his dad made him a promise: that they’d practice firebending together every day even if Akira couldn’t really make fire anymore. To both of their surprises, that turned out not to be the case. Akira could still firebend, even if it was weaker. But even though the chi-blockers turned out to be more of a handicap than a death-sentence for his bending, Akira’s father had insisted that they study the seven chakras.
That’s why Akira could tell his chakras were severely unbalanced. He could feel it. He imagined anyone with the right sort of training would be able to tell with the way he felt like he was spilling outside of his own body.
He imagined that one or two of them may have opened, but out of order. There was pressure building up inside of him that made him feel volatile and a bit jumpy.
On top of that, the voices were back and more persistent than ever.
Their whispers were entirely incomprehensible to him. They talked over one another, all bidding for his attention. Every once in a while, one succeeded in being louder and clearer than the others, and it would temporarily dislodge him from reality. Akira looked over his shoulder to find no one there.
However, more terrifying than the prospect that Akira might officially be losing his mind, was the thought of walking into the school assembly late.
As soon as he finished dressing, Akira ran out the door.
It took him a few minutes to get to school, so by the time he arrived he was panting from stress and exertion.
The halls were empty; the student body had already gathered in the gym. Akira wandered the halls, trying to recall where Kawakami’s class was meant to be sitting. If he entered the gym quietly enough, he should be able to join his class. He could apologize to Ms. Kawakami later.
Cheers echoed down the hall, growing louder as Akira approached his destination. He entered the gym from the set of doors nearest to where Kawakami’s class was sitting. Luckily, the noise drowned out the sound of the door opening and closing behind him.
Running on pure adrenaline, Akira scanned the crowd. Spotting Ms. Kawakami, he blended into the mass of students in the bleachers and began to make his way towards her.
“Alright, settle down everyone!” Kamoshida’s voice boomed through the speakers. “It’s time for your favorite event!”
Akira locked eyes with Kawakami. She raised a brow at his tardiness, but otherwise seemed unbothered. Silently, she gestured for him to walk towards her.
“Do I have any volunteers willing to take me on in the first Agni Kai of the season? Don’t be shy! It’s all in good fun!”
Relief in his sights, Akira eyed the empty seat beside Kawakami with longing. Akira could practically feel the anxiety leaving his body with each step he took. Hopefully he wouldn’t be in too much trouble, but knowing this school, that wasn’t likely. He just hoped whatever punishment they had in mind for him, didn’t involve potential suspension. Heaving a great sigh of relief, Akira finally arrived at his destination.
“Ms. Kawakami… sorry I’m late.” He murmured.
“That’s okay. Glad you made it. We’ll talk after – ”
“Kurusu-kun!”
Akira froze. The sound of his name being called through the speakers immediately extinguished the fresh bloom of hope he’d found in Kawakami’s company. He turned, a deer caught in the headlights, towards the front of the gym.
“Yes, you!” Kamoshida called, each word like a shot of ice straight to his veins. “Thank you for volunteering!”
Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to look at him. Feet glued to the bleachers, Akira sheepishly shook his head, waving at Kamoshida as if to say ‘oh, no thank you’, and hoping against all odds that Kamoshida would drop it and pick someone else.
No such luck.
“Come on, don’t be shy! It’s just some friendly sparring. I know you’re a firebender! But I understand if you’re nervous. School, it seems like Kurusu-kun could use some encouragement. Why don’t we show him how we do things here at Shujin, yeah?! Alright, everybody with me! Fight – on – fight – on – fight – on!”
“FIGHT – ON – FIGHT – ON!” The student body took up Kamoshida’s chant, likely some kind of school cheer. Their voices seemed to grow louder and louder, drowning out the ones in Akira’s head. He exhaled shakily. Kawakami looked at him with concern. She said something, but he couldn’t hear it over the school’s collective chanting.
For a frightening moment, Akira’s vision swam. But at this point, there was nothing he could do to stop this. Inhaling sharply, he began his descent from the bleachers. Immediately, the school erupted into cheers and applause.
Logically, he knew that most of the other students only meant to encourage him, but to Akira, it felt like he was being gleefully marched to his death. With each step he took towards Kamoshida, the friendly grin on the man’s face twisted into something more sinister. By the time he’d reached the gym floor, he swore Kamoshida was sneering at him with sadistic glee.
“School, let’s give your classmate one more round of applause for volunteering today!”
Another round of cheering broke out, but Akira barely heard it over the rushing of blood in his ears.
“Come on, give your classmates a bow!” Kamoshida urged him. Feeling sick, Akira complied, facing the bleachers with a half-hearted bend in his spine. He straightened almost immediately.
“YEAAAH!” Kamoshida roared, and the crowd roared alongside him.
“Now, for those who don’t know, an Agni Kai is a centuries-old firebending duel. Traditionally, it is only won when one opponent burns the other. However, these days, we value safety over honor, and intentional burning is frowned upon. Instead of fighting to settle a dispute, we fight for the love of the sport. Therefore, the duel will end when one participant has pinned the other.”
Kamoshida turned to face him. Akira warily met his gaze.
“First, we will take our places at opposite edges of the arena, where we will stand with our backs to each other. When the gong is struck, the fight may begin.” Kamoshida turned to address the crowd once more, speaking into his microphone. “Are you ready?!”
As the crowd resumed its cheering, Kamoshida shot him a smug look. It was so brief, and so sinister, that for a moment, Akira wasn’t sure if he imagined it. However, given everything he knew about Mr. Kamoshida, and the next sentence out of his mouth, whispered low and filled with malice, he was certain that the look was real. “Take your place, Kurusu.”
Akira swallowed nervously.
And then, he obliged, turning his back to Mr. Kamoshida even as every fiber of his being screamed at him not to. He took his place at the edge of the arena, mind racing.
He’d never been in real combat before.
Sure, before his arrest, he trained regularly with his dad. But that didn’t mean he was in any way prepared for an Agni Kai against arguably the strongest firebender of this generation. Plus, he hadn’t tried to bend since he nearly burned his room down. Also, there was the issue of his unbalanced chakras.
Pressure gathered in his head, pulsing at his temples. Voices screeched at him. Real or imagined? It was hard to tell. Some of them urged him to relax. Some of them wanted violence. Akira twitched, a shock running down his spine. They grew louder and more incomprehensible. He needed to calm down.
Firebending is all in the breath, Akira reminded himself. He breathed in deeply, years of practice helping him quell the storm brewing in his head. He regained control of his lungs.
BANG.
The gong was struck.
Akira whirled around just in time to block a blast of fire headed straight for his face. He raised his arms and quickly dispelled it, but Kamoshida was already back on the offensive. A second blast whirled by him as Akira sidestepped it, and then a third.
With each blast of fire, Akira took another step back. Cornered. Kamoshida was too fast. Or maybe Akira was too hesitant to hit back with fire of his own? Uncertainty surrounding his own ability to bend crippled him, keeping him locked on the defensive even as Kamoshida drew nearer and his fire blazed hotter. Panic gripped him like a vice. Pressure pulsed against his temples. The sound of the crowd faded away.
You’re in danger.
That thought took hold. The voices in his head started chanting it like a mantra. You’re in danger – you’re in danger – you’re in danger – they said.
The next jet of fire Kamoshida kicked at him was much harder to dodge. Somehow, Akira managed it though, redirecting the flames to the ground at his sides.
We could help you, they said.
Kamoshida was closing in. Akira couldn’t dodge forever.
Let us help you, they said. For a brief, frightening moment, Akira considered it. His body buzzed with a sudden surge of energy. The voices in his head came to a crescendo. The swell of their influence was almost comforting. It would be so easy to give himself over to them – to let go.
But he didn’t. Gritting his teeth, Akira clamped down on that impulse with finality, and the rush of energy building within him dissipated instantly. Akira was in control. Akira would stay in control. This body was his.
He planted his feet, he raised his fist, and swung it forward, casting his first real blast of fire since discontinuing his chi-blockers.
To his surprise, and that of the crowd (judging by their collective gasping), the resulting ball of fire he produced was vibrantly blue. It whirled towards Kamoshida, bright and hot and significantly larger than Akira had intended for it to be. Akira stumbled, immediately losing balance in his shock. Pathetically, he tripped over his own feet just as Kamoshida countered him. Orange flames licked his arm as Akira went down, falling flat on his back on the gym floor. Searing pain erupted along the skin of his outer arm and shoulder – his sleeve had caught fire. Akira yelped, immediately swatting at the flames with his free hand, smothering the fire before it could do any more damage.
A whistle blew. Distantly, he heard someone call the match for Kamoshida. A set of rough hands pulled him up, brusquely digging into the fresh burn on as arm as they did so. Akira hissed involuntarily, attempting to squirm away.
“You alright there, Kurusu?” Kamoshida grinned as he helped him to his feet. His fingers remained pressed firmly to the injury, digging in. Akira stared at him in disbelief.
Abruptly letting him go, Kamoshida turned towards the audience.
“Let’s give a Kurusu here a round of applause for being such a good sport! Thank you for helping with the demonstration! Now we can move on to the real fun! So, without further ado, please welcome the Shujin cheer team!”
A group of students rushed to the gym floor and immediately began the next segment of the assembly. Akira wasn’t paying attention though, too distracted by Kamoshida roughly pulling him to the edge of the gymnasium towards where Ms. Kawakami was standing.
“I hope you’ll think twice about causing trouble in the future.” Kamoshida said through gritted teeth, just lowly enough that only Akira could hear. Then, “Ms. Kawakami! It seems Kurusu-kun here got a little burned. Would you mind escorting him to the school nurse?”
Kawakami blinked. “Oh. Of course.” She said. “Here, Kurusu, follow me.”
Ryuji was seething.
Kamoshida was a real piece of shit, dragging Kurusu out of the crowd when he obviously wasn’t feeling well and making him assist in the Agni Kai demonstration, and all for some petty revenge. Kurusu didn’t deserve that shit! No one did! He hadn’t even done anything wrong!
Leg tapping against the bleachers fast enough to visibly irritate everyone in his immediate vicinity, Ryuji contemplated all sorts of things. Mostly he wanted to march right up to Kamoshida and give him a piece of his mind, but the fact that the assembly was still going on held him back. Instead, he was left to stew, no outlet for his mounting fury.
As he watched Ms. Kawakami escort Kurusu out of the gym and towards the nurse’s office, Ryuji decided he’d had enough. He couldn’t keep sitting here, stewing in rage. He needed to do something, or he’d burst into flames.
He rose from his seat, ignoring the cries of his homeroom teacher telling him to sit back down, and bolted from the gym, one thing on his mind.
Kamoshida’s medal sat completely unguarded in its case. As far as Ryuji could tell, there were no cameras in that hallway, and there wouldn’t be any witnesses, considering everyone was at the assembly.
It was surprisingly easy to snatch. Ryuji snapped the case’s latch with ease, glancing around one more time before grabbing the dumb medal and pocketing it.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do with it, but he knew that taking it would piss Kamoshida off, and really, did a nobler goal even exist? Besides, Kamoshida didn’t deserve to have it.
Once the deed was done, Ryuji grinned to himself in petty satisfaction. Now, all he had to do was book it to the nurse’s office, and if anyone asked, he’d say he went straight there from the gym. Boom. Perfect alibi.
And later, when the time was right, he’d show it to Akira. Maybe that would cheer him up.
“Just a minor burn.” The nurse tells him, running glowing water along the length of his arm. “A quick fix, really.”
Akira nodded, unsure of what else to say in a situation like this. The water felt nice though – cool and soothing against his skin.
“Aaaand there you go! Good as new!”
Akira glanced at his arm. Amazingly, there didn’t seem to be much of a mark left behind at all. In a matter of minutes, the nurse had reduced the angry red patch of skin down to a gentle pink. He imagined that a week from now, there wouldn’t be any mark left at all – not even a scar.
Waterbenders were something else.
The mark was still kinda sore though.
“Thank you.” Akira bowed politely.
The nurse smiled. “Of course. Now take it easy, young man. Just because it’s better doesn’t mean you’re at 100% again. It’ll probably be another week before that’s fully healed.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now – ”
“Akira!”
A familiar screech echoed through the office as Sakamoto slid into frame, running sideways into the open door and slamming into it needlessly as he came to a graceless stop. The door banged against the wall. The nurse hissed in disapproval.
“Ry – er - Sakamoto?” Akira blinked, bewildered.
“Are you okay?!” Ryuji pressed forward, heedless of the property damage he’d caused. It would almost be funny if Akira weren’t having such a shit day. “That effing bastard. Grrr he pisses me off. Shoulda known he’d come after you like that! He just can’t help himself! It’s like being an asshole is written into his DNA or some shit. That smug motherfu – ”
“Language!” The nurse interjected. “Young man, we are still on school property!”
Sakamoto rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry or whatever. Anyway, you’re all bandaged up right? Come on, man, let’s get out of here.”
“Okay.” Akira agreed, easily. Sakamoto grabbed his uninjured arm with considerably more kindness than Kamoshida had earlier, and lead him towards the door. The nurse protested, insisting that he wait for Kawakami to escort him back to the rally, but frankly, Akira wasn’t having it. At this point, if Sakamoto wanted to lead him off a freaking cliff, Akira would follow. It would be preferable to spending another agonizing second in this miserable school. Shujin could kiss his ass.
Sakamoto led him through the empty halls, past the gymnasium, and towards the stairwell. Instantly, Akira knew where they were going.
It was a bright, sunny spring day. As they stepped out onto the rooftop, Akira took in a deep breath of fresh, smoke-free air. Relief. This was the reprieve he’d been looking forward to earlier. Finally, he exhaled away all of the anxieties he’d been harboring since the morning.
God, he was tired.
“That asshole… I can’t believe him….” Sakamoto grumbled under his breath the whole way there, and still hadn’t released Akira’s arm. “Piece of shit… thinks he can get away with anything. I’ll show him….”
“Hey, Sakamoto….” Akira placed a hand on Ryuji’s shoulder, hoping to calm him down. “It’s okay – ”
“No, it isn’t!” Sakamoto swiveled to face him, looking Akira in the eye for the first time since they left the nurse’s office. “Are you kidding me, dude? It ain’t effing okay! Are you defending him now? The guy tries to beat the shit outta you for no goddam reason, and you’re defending him?!”
The metal clang of a chair getting kicked made Akira jump. Ryuji didn’t seem to notice, too busy winding up to kick another one.
“Hey!” Akira snapped, yanking Sakamoto back before he could continue his assault on any more innocent pieces of furniture. Property damage was fun and all when Ryuji was clumsily slamming into things – less so when he was actively causing it. “You need to chill out!”
“WHAT?!” For a moment, it looked like Sakamoto was going to argue with him. Then, his face contorted into an expression of guilt. He crumpled in on himself. The guy had a way of shifting from anger to shame like no other. “I – ugh, you’re right.” He kicked a pebble. “Sorry. He just gets under my skin. You see why, right?”
“I get it.” Akira picked up the abused chair, dusting it off before sitting down.
“He just – URG – sorry. I’m making this about me.” Sakamoto’s lips twisted downwards into some kind of pout. He dropped into another chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest and upper lip pulling into disgust. He stared at the floor like it’d personally offended him. After a moment of wallowing, Sakamoto rallied. He smoothed his face, looking up to meet Akira’s eyes. “Really though, are you okay? That shit was effed up.”
Akira sighed. “I’m… okay enough. Honestly, I just want to go home and sleep. I’ve had the worst headache all day, even before Kamoshida got involved.”
“Yeah….” Sakamoto nodded, then abruptly straightened. A proud grin cut across his face as he brightened. “Hey! I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up. Sure cheered me up, at least.”
Akira lifted his head. “You do?”
“Yeah! One sec!” He began to excitedly rummage through his pockets. Akira watched him curiously. Then, Sakamoto pulled out something shiny and gold and distinctly familiar.
“Kamoshida’s medal?” Akira’s eyes widened. “Dude, did you steal that?”
“Sure did.” Ryuji announced proudly. “After that stunt he pulled, I figured someone needed to take him down a peg, amirite?”
“Well, sure, but won’t you get caught?”
Sakamoto’s shrug was less than reassuring. “Man at this point, who even cares? But I don’t think so. It’s not like they have cameras. So, what do you want to do with it? Figured we could melt it down or toss it in the river. Make it so he can never rub it in anyone’s face again.”
“I… dunno….”
Akira’s headache was back. The medal glinted in the sun. Strangely, the thought of melting it or tossing it into a body of water, never to be found again, made him feel slightly nauseous. That medal was important. It had meaning.
It belongs to me, he thought. Or did he? It felt like he’d thought it, but the raw emotion behind it was unfamiliar to him.
How dare they debase an artifact like that. Have they no respect? No honor? No regard for their history? Does their greed know no bounds? I’ll make them pay. Every last one of them.
Akira jumped. Frantically, he looked over his shoulder. It sounded like someone was right behind him.
“Did you hear that?” He asked, turning back to Ryuji with wild eyes.
“Hear what?” Sakamoto tilted his head. “Dude, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Akira grit his teeth, inexplicably angry. He blinked, surprised with himself. What the fuck was wrong with him?
Sakamoto raised an eyebrow. “Okay, dude. If you say so.”
“Just – ” Akira reached out his hand. “Let me take a look at that.”
Gold shimmered in the sunlight, illuminating the insignia as if it were made of real flames. Ryuji slid the medal across the table.
‘Are you sure you’re ready for this?’ The woman’s voice returned, clearer than ever. She sounded nasally, and just a bit smug. Her words echoed in the back of his skull, reverberating around his brain, making him wince.
Ready for what? He thought. But it was too late. His fingertips grazed the medal and the whole world spun around them, and then melted away. Sakamoto screamed, though it sounded distorted. And Akira was spinning, and spinning, and spinning until – suddenly he wasn’t. The world righted itself beneath his feet, and he collapsed onto hard ground.
“Ow….” Beside him, Sakamoto groaned. He looked up and looked around, confused and apprehensive. “What happened? Where are we?”
No no no no no no no. The earth beneath his fingers was a reddish shade of purple. The air was heavy with an indiscernible energy. It hummed in a way that made his skin crawl. Most distressingly, it was familiar.
They were being watched. Akira could feel their eyes. Hundreds – no – thousands of them. And they were angry. He wet his lips, raising his head to meet Ryuji’s frightened eyes, lifting a finger to his lips to indicate for Ryuji to not speak.
He couldn’t explain it. There was no logical reason for Akira to know. But he knew. He knew exactly where they were. Like reuniting with an old friend, he could feel it in his bones.
“Ryuji, please, you need to be quiet.” Akira whispered. “We’re in the Spirit World.”
Notes:
Not me skipping the rest of the assembly because idk what even happens at a pep rally.
Also, I felt like giving Akira blue fire would be fun on account of all the blue fire in the official persona art. Just seemed fitting to me. Plus, I feel like all Avatars should be lowkey prodigies at their native element (not sure if this is canon or not?? Dubiously canon maybe???) and blue fire seemed like a pretty simple way to demonstrate that.
Chapter 11: The Spirit World
Notes:
*cracks knuckles* forget your high school drama folks it’s time for plot.
TW: mild description of human remains
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“We’re in the Spirit World?! What do you mean?!”
“Shh!” Akira lunged the distance between them to slap a hand over Sakamoto’s mouth, heart pounding. “Yes. So, keep your voice down.” He hissed as quietly as possible, hoping to communicate with his expression alone the severity of their situation.
The air around them vibrated with the whispers of malevolent spirits. The small sliver of sky visible through the canopy of dark trees and thick vines was tinged an ominous shade of red. No birds sang, no insects hummed; the forest was perfectly silent – almost as if time itself had stopped upon their arrival. The feeling of being watched persisted. Wherever they’d been dropped, it certainly wasn’t friendly towards humanity.
“Dude, are you sure?” Ryuji pressed at a much more appropriate volume. He slowly sat back on his heels, as if to not make any further sound, which Akira greatly appreciated. “Like? How is that even possible? How would you even know that?”
“I – I don’t know how I know. I just do.” Akira said, pulling off his glasses to clean the lenses on the collar of his shirt. “Can’t you feel it?”
“Feel what? Man, all I’m feeling is seriously freaked out. Are you sure this isn’t some kinda effed up prank?”
“I don’t know what this is.” Akira admitted. “But we need to get the hell out of here. Fast.”
“Kind of a tall order,” Ryuji grumbled, “considering we don’t know how we got here in the first place.”
“Then let’s figure it out.” Glasses settled back on the bridge of his nose. “I think… I think maybe we got warped or something when I touched that medal.”
“Kamoshida’s medal?”
“Yeah….” Akira’s eyes darted around the ground, searching for a glimmer of gold. Unfortunately, it was dark, and the dirt around them was scattered with a fair amount of rocks and debris. The medal could have fallen anywhere. “Hey… you’re a firebender, right? Could you make a light?”
“Huh?” Sakamoto looked surprised. He raised his shoulders, curling in on himself, oddly bashful. “Um, I mean… I am but…. Can’t you make one? You’re a firebender too.”
“Well yeah, but….” Akira frowned. “I’m still adjusting to being off of my chi-blockers. I mean, you saw me bend, right? I’m not exactly working with the most precision right now. Honestly, I don’t trust myself not to burn down the whole forest by mistake. And then we’d be in really deep shit with whatever spirit is watching us.”
“Oh… true – wait, what!?” Sakamoto whirled on him, volume rising once again. “What spirit?!”
“Be quiet!”
“We’re being watched?! You can’t just spring that on a guy!”
“Sorry!” Akira hissed. “But please, keep it down!”
“Urgh – sorry! I – sorry!” Thankfully, Sakamoto collected himself enough to lower his voice once more. Though, he was looking considerably more frightened than he had before. “I – shit. I’ll make a light. One sec.”
Sakamoto held out a shaky palm. Akira watched intently as his companion scowled, eyebrows knitting in concentration. Seconds later, a perfectly sized flame appeared in the palm of his hand, brightening their immediate surroundings. Akira sighed in relief. Something about the way Sakamoto was acting had made him weirdly anxious.
“Thanks.” Akira breathed, scanning the newly lit clearing. A few feet away, something reflected the fire’s light back at them. He quickly snatched it from the dirt, grinning happily. He held up the medal, showing it to Sakamoto. “Got it.”
Immediately, Sakamoto dispelled his flame. “Cool. Now what?”
Akira’s grin fell. “Not sure.” He said, turning the medal over to look at it more closely. Nothing stood out to him. “I was hoping that if I just touched it again it would send us back? But….” As Akira ran his fingertips over the thin golden flame, nothing happened. He frowned. “Maybe it wasn’t the medal that sent us here at all?”
Sakamoto shrugged, looking just as lost as he felt. He held out his hand. “Let me try?”
Akira passed him the medal, but just as before, nothing happened.
“So… that’s obviously not working.” Sakamoto said, pocketing the medal. “Any other ideas?”
Akira chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. He tried to recall what they’d been talking about before getting warped, but nothing about their conversation stood out to him. And he hadn’t noticed anything off about the rooftop before getting warped either – no shady people hanging around or signs of wayward spirits. The only thing that had felt off was Akira himself. He bit down hard enough to taste iron.
No. It was all in his head. The voices were just that: voices. They had no impact on the physical world. They weren’t real.
“I guess….” Akira paused to clear his throat, voice oddly thick. “I guess we look around? Unless you have a better idea?”
“Man, I’m just as lost as you are.” Sakamoto said, shaking his head. “But whatever we do, I don’t want to keep standing around waiting for somethin’ bad to happen. So yeah, let’s look around. Why don’t we try following those tracks?”
Akira blinked. “Tracks? What tracks?”
Sakamoto pointed. “Right behind you, man.”
Turning around, Akira immediately saw what he was talking about. Really, he was surprised he’d missed them in the first place. A few feet behind him, there were wide, deep tracks cutting into the earth. They’d clearly been made by some kind of wheel, which was weird because, as far as he knew, spirits didn’t have any use for machinery.
The longer he stared at them, the more out of place they looked. It seemed like they’d been there for a while, given how some of the natural vegetation had started to grow into them, however the fact that they were there at all was incredibly off putting in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
With a sinking feeling, he turned back to Ryuji. “Lead the way.”
They didn’t have to walk long to reach the end of the tracks. In a matter of minutes, Akira and Ryuji found themselves emerging from the thick vegetation into a large, open field. Off in the distance, the field seemed to end abruptly, indicating there might be a sharp hill or even a cliff. Much of the brush was brittle, cracking easily as they began to wade through it. Far ahead of them, just before the plains ended and backlit by the sickly, red-tinged sky, there was a structure. Akira paused to gape at it.
“Dude….” Sakamoto stopped walking, eyes drawn in the same direction as Akira’s. “Is that… some kind of castle?”
It certainly looked like some sort of fortress, Akira thought, though he wasn’t sure he’d call it a castle exactly. He frowned, wracking his brain for any recollection in all of his schooling that spirits constructed buildings for themselves, but came up empty. The longer he thought about it, the more unsettling he found it to be.
“Maybe.” Akira said. “But I’m not sure. It looks kind of… off? I don’t know….”
Sakamoto tilted his head, squinting at the distant fortress as if, with enough effort, he could discern all of its secrets from a safe distance. Eventually he gave up, turning back to Akira with a grin. “Wanna go check it out?” While Sakamoto’s posture was confident, his eyes betrayed his nervousness.
“Might as well. Come on.”
It took a while to cross the field, and as they approached, Akira was able to confirm his suspicion that the plains ended in a sharp cliff. However, instead of finding more forest below, they were greeted with the sound of rolling waves and the smell of salt in the air. Peering over the edge revealed water a deeper and even more unsettling shade of red than the sky. He exchanged a nervous glance with Sakamoto, but neither made any comment on it, deciding instead to turn their full attention towards the fortress for the time being.
“So… here we are.” Sakamoto started, gazing up at the building with a line between his brows.
“Yeah….” Now that they were up close, Akira was able to pinpoint what had felt so off about it. The walls were a smooth, dark grey. From a distance, the fortress looked to be made of stone. But now, standing before it, he could tell that the walls were solid concrete. The stairs leading up to the front entrance were lined with iron rails. The first-floor windows, while looking large and extravagant, were barred. Moreover, it seemed like the tracks they’d found in the forest led to its front door, as much of the earth around the building was barren, as if it had been overturned recently enough that no new vegetation had grown around it. Yet, at the same time, the place was void of life. Almost as if it had been recently abandoned.
“It seems kind of… modern. Doesn’t it?” Akira broke the silence.
Sakamoto’s eyes lit with comprehension. “Yeah, that’s it! I couldn’t put my finger on it but yeah. None of the castles they show in the history books look like this. So weird…. What do spirits need a castle for anyway?”
“Nothing I can think of. Should we go inside?”
“Ain’t nothing better to do. Let’s go.” With zero hesitation, Ryuji pressed on. He marched straight up the stairs, quickly approaching the front door. Akira appreciated his decisiveness. If he were with anyone even half as apprehensive as he felt, he wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to march on. Something about this place felt deeply wrong… sick almost. Like it was dying.
He didn’t dare voice those thoughts, though. No reason to scare Ryuji based on nothing more than a feeling.
Together, they pushed the front door. As it opened, it screeched with a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard, sending an unpleasant shiver down Akira’s spine.
“Spirits, what is that smell?” Sakamoto said as they slipped inside. He wrinkled his nose in distaste, but quickly moved on, commenting on the interior. Akira, however, was still stuck on the smell. It was subtle, but acrid enough to be noticeable. Unlike Ryuji, for whom it seemed to be hardly noteworthy, Akira was completely stun-locked by it. The scent in the air was familiar in the worst possible way. He’d smelt it before, in some of his worst nightmares. While the exact context of those dreams evaded recollection, the feelings he associated with this stench hit him full force. He froze in place, unable to move forward, knees quivering. Pressure built behind his eyes. His lower lip wobbled. His breathing shallowed. Ryuji continued to blither on about the interior design, blissfully ignorant.
“Weird how empty it is in here… just a bunch of paintings and furniture. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in ages. Do you think – whoa, Akira, calm down.”
His vision was getting blurry. This, couldn’t be real, could it? He only ever smelled such horrible things in his sleep. Was that it then? He was dreaming again?
Sakamoto snapped him out of it, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a firm shake. “Dude! What’s the matter?”
Akira blinked tears from his eyes. “I… am I dreaming?”
For a moment, Sakamoto said nothing. He just stared at him, looking perplexed. Then –
“Ow!” Akira jumped back, gaping at his companion in utter bewilderment.
Ryuji blinked innocently, as if he hadn’t just sucker punched him in the arm. “What?” He asked.
“What was that for?!”
“Uh… you asked if you were dreaming? Isn’t that a thing? Ya know… ‘punch me, I must be dreamin’’? That thing old people say.”
“It’s….” Akira rubbed his forehead. “It’s ‘pinch me, I must be dreaming’”.
“Ohhhh. Well. Sorry man! My bad!”
“That’s,” despite it all, Akira found himself smiling. He exhaled a laugh through his nose, tension leaving him all at once. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I think it helped, actually.”
“Great!” Ryuji beamed at him. “You were starting to worry me, man!” Growing serious, he added, “Please don’t, like, check out on me here. You know I’m not that smart. I’m not gonna be able to figure out how to make it out of here on my own.”
It was Akira’s turn to feel sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll keep it together. I promise.” That’s right. Akira wasn’t alone here. Whatever strange thoughts and feelings arose from his subconscious, he couldn’t let them overwhelm him. He needed to separate his delusions from reality and stay grounded in the moment. If not for himself, then for Ryuji.
Ryuji, who had been the only person to speak to Akira like he was a human being in nearly a year. Who not only saw through all of the rumors circulating around the school, but was also brave enough to give him a chance. Who was hotheaded, impulsive, a bit brash, yes, but also so unbelievably genuine that it was easy to let down his guard, to be himself without fear of harsh judgement. Who clearly carried so much self-doubt and guilt despite having done nothing to earn it.
They may not have known each other for very long, but Akira already felt closer to him than to any of the other friends he’d had in his lifetime. So yeah, Akira would do his best to keep it together – for him.
“I’m glad you’re with me, man. I mean it.” Ryuji said, smiling earnestly. “We should keep moving, though. What do you think, upstairs or downstairs?”
“Um… let’s start upstairs.”
The smell grew stronger as they ascended the staircase. Akira noticed it immediately, a buzzing beginning in the back of his head as if trying to warn him. Dutifully, he ignored it, reminding himself that his dreams had no bearing on reality. Focus on the present, he thought. Focus on Ryuji.
They ducked in and out of several rooms. Most of them were completely empty. A few had signs of activity – like pieces of furniture, books and clothes, but nothing more. It was almost as if the place had been cleared out in a hurry.
Eventually, they came across a room that hadn’t been completely emptied. It seemed like some kind of library, or study. Bookshelves lined the walls, many, but not all of them, empty. There was a desk, tables and chairs, as well as several unlit candles. With some prompting, Akira succeeded in getting Ryuji to light them (and really, his firebending was very precise. The fact that he tried so hard to avoid using it baffled him).
In the candlelight, Akira’s eye was drawn towards several posters that lined the walls. He drifted towards them, examining them critically. They appeared to be some sort of medical diagrams, mapping the flow of chi through the body. They looked ancient though, so Akira couldn’t fathom why they would be in a place like this. Or why they stuck out to him, for that matter.
Don’t you remember? A voice called to him from the back of his skull. Akira’s eye twitched in irritation. He tried to ignore it.
“What are you looking at, man?” Ryuji appeared beside him.
You’ve seen this before.
“These diagrams.” Akira gestured towards the wall. “They’re… Air Nomad.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Look at the path its highlighting. It overlaps with the places on the body that Air Nomads place their tattoos. I think maybe I’ve seen something like this before… maybe when visiting my cousin? I don’t remember where exactly, but these are definitely Air Nomad diagrams.”
“Okay, but why would those be here?” Ryuji questioned, looking at him oddly.
Akira frowned. “I don’t know. I just thought it was kind of strange.”
You know what this means.
“Um,” Akira swallowed nervously. “Let’s keep moving.”
They continued to explore. Though nothing much else stuck out to Akira, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister had taken place here. Those diagrams, while completely innocuous on their own, inspired in him a sense of urgency. This place, the diagrams, the fact that they were in the Spirit World, and that horrid stench in the air all pointed towards… something. Like an itch he couldn’t quite reach, clarity evaded him. He had all the pieces, he felt like he should know the answer, know what he was getting himself into, but he just… didn’t.
Until he did.
It happened suddenly. One moment, he was clueless. And then, as they turned a corner, the scent grew stronger. It pushed itself to the forefront of his awareness. Despite his best efforts, it was all he could think about, all he could remember, all he could feel. Hot. Sour. Heavy in the air and on his tongue. It burned his eyes, churned his stomach, made his skin crawl with the realization that a scent like this could only emanate from one thing. Something he’d seen over and over again in his dreams. Something he did not want to see in real life.
“Ugh, what do you think that is?” Ryuji pulled the top of his shirt over his nose. Oblivious to Akira’s inner turmoil, he pushed forward, resting his hand on the handle of the door at the end of the hall.
“Wait, Ryuji, don’t – ”
Akira’s warning came too late. Ryuji pulled the door open, allowing the rot-soaked air trapped behind it to saturate the hall. The stench was overpowering. Akira swiveled away as fast as he could, but not fast enough. It flooded his airways, coating his throat and causing him to gag. Raw sewage, rotten eggs, vomit, sour milk, and something sickly sweet combined in the most revolting way imaginable: the pungent, putrid, unmistakable smell of death.
Ryuji screamed.
“O-oh god. Oh my god. Oh no, oh god – spirits – Akira, we need to get out of here.” He stammered, briefly pausing his panicking to retch. Akira chanced a look up and immediately regretted it. Beyond the door, in an otherwise perfectly empty room, were dozens of bodies, stacked on top of each other as if they’d been dumped there, festering, in various states of decay. He only looked for a moment before the sight became unbearable, but the fact that most of them seemed to be missing their heads did not go unnoticed.
“Dude, what are you waiting for? Run!” Ryuji shoved him forward, then took off down the hallway. Akira raced after him, retracing their path through the building until they were bursting out through the front doors and back out into the open field.
Stumbling a few paces in front of him, Ryuji made it to the bushes just in time to collapse to his hands and knees before throwing up. Shaking, Akira turned away in a poor attempt to give the guy some privacy, sucking in deep breaths of the fresh outdoor air in order to clean the reek from his lungs. It kind of worked, but a faint smell of decay still clung to the fabric of his clothes. He tried not to think about it.
“S-Sakamoto? You okay?” Akira asked, after taking some time to catch his breath.
“U-uh-huh,” Just visible over the top of the grass, Ryuji threw him a thumbs up. “J-just peachy!” He did not sound peachy.
Ashen and shaky, Ryuji finally emerged from the bushes. For an agonizing moment, the two of them just stared at one another, both at a complete loss for words. Akira kind of wanted to reach out to him, craving the comfort of physical touch, but his desire to keep it together outweighed the need for comfort. Hadn’t he already gone over this? Right now, he needed to be strong. There would be time for a breakdown later… granted they made it out of this alive.
“Dude… what the hell?” Ryuji’s voice cracked, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief. He was still looking a little green, the pallor of his skin clashing horribly with the bright yellow of his hair. “Where those… where there really a bunch of dead bodies in there? Like, did we see that right?”
Finding himself unable to speak, Akira nodded.
“You don’t… you don’t think maybe a spirit made us see all that? Like… could it be that they weren’t really there? Can spirits do that? Make illusions?”
Akira shrugged, thought about it for a moment, then shook his head.
“You don’t think so?”
Akira shook his head.
“You think they were real?”
He nodded.
By now, Akira was used to deciphering between his ‘real’ and ‘imagined’ experiences. Unfortunately, he was fairly confident in putting this one firmly in the ‘real’ category.
“How long do you think they’ve been there?”
Clearing his throat, Akira finally mustered the strength to speak again. “No idea.” He said. “But I’m more worried about what killed them than when they died. And more importantly, is whatever or whoever did this still here?”
Ryuji froze as if the thought had just occurred to him. “Shit.” He cursed. “Okay. Okay. No need to panic. Let’s, um – oh god – let’s get the hell out of here man, or I’m totally going to freak out.”
“Couldn’t agree more. Should we go back to where we started?”
“Yeah. Okay. Whatever you think.”
They’d only made it about halfway to the forest before it returned– that feeling of being watched. Almost simultaneously, Akira’s headache, having faded to a dull, barely noticeable throb, returned with a vengeance. He sucked in a sharp breath, clutching his skull in both hands and nearly tripping from the intensity of the pain.
You’re in danger – you’re in danger – you’re in danger.
Several voices fought for dominance. Their whispers indiscernible from one another, all meaning lost.
You’re in danger – you’re in danger – you’re in danger.
“Akira?” Ryuji noticed he’d stopped walking. “Come on man, we’ve got to keep going.”
Terror gripped him like a vice. Ryuji’s voice faded to the back of his awareness, mixing in with the countless whispers all fighting for his attention. He grit his teeth against the pain, oblivious to all the ways in which Ryuji was attempting to draw him back to reality. Something deep within him screamed.
You’re in danger.
“HUMANS!” A voice boomed with such ferocity that it shook the ground. “I TOLD YOU NEVER TO RETURN!”
“Oh fuck, Akira RUN!”
He couldn’t move, feet frozen to the ground. Something was emerging from the grass in front of them – formed from an ever-expanding swirl of shadows. The red of the sky seemed to deepen. Akira’s breathing quickened. The voices were screaming now.
YOU’RE IN DANGER.
The mass of shadows formed two frightening, glowing yellow eyes, slanted in rage. It towered over them, several long tendrils of darkness whirling around it like the arms of an octopus. It formed some sort of beak-like mouth, snapping at them, snarling. Beside him, Ryuji whimpered in fear.
“YOU SHALL NOT DESECRATE THESE LANDS WITH YOUR VILE ACTIONS EVER AGAIN!”
YOU’RE IN DANGER!
With a terrifying screech, the dark spirit thrust one of its tendrils straight for Akira. As it hurtled towards him, time seemed to slow down. He was overcome with a wave of cool acceptance. This was it. This is where it all would end. For some reason, that woman’s face – the one from the night of his arrest – crossed his mind. He wondered how she was doing. He wondered why he would be thinking of her at a time like this. Maybe it was because, in a way, she’s the one who had ruined his life. By throwing him under the bus that night, she’d inadvertently sent him here, to this very moment, face-to-face with a wrathful dark spirit. Face-to-face with his demise. Akira closed his eyes. And then –
He found himself being thrown to the ground, not by the force of a vengeful spirit, but by the hands of a friend.
“RUN!” Ryuji shouted, just as the tendril that had been intended for Akira wrapped itself around him instead.
One of the voices in his head began to speak to him again, louder and clearer than the rest. The voice that had been with him the longest.
Was it a mistake, then? She asked.
Ryuji collapsed to the ground right in front of him, the air leaving his lungs in a devastating whoosh. He looked up, meeting Akira’s eyes with an expression of such visceral terror that it cut Akira straight to his core.
Was what a mistake? Akira wondered to himself.
That night. You chose to help a woman who then ruined your life. Her actions sent you here. To this very moment. So then, was that decision a mistake?
And as quickly as he’d been grabbed, the spirit began to pull Ryuji towards itself. Ryuji, who had been the only person to speak to Akira like he was a human being in nearly a year. Ryuji, who not only saw through all of the rumors circulating around the school, but was also brave enough to give him a chance. Ryuji, who was hotheaded, impulsive, brash, but also so unbelievably genuine that it was easy to let down his guard, to be himself without fear of harsh judgement.
Ryuji, who might have just sacrificed his life to save him. To save Akira, who did nothing but look on, paralyzed by his own fear, unable to even honor Ryuji’s selfless act by attempting to flee. Frozen.
Just like the woman from that night.
Are you going to let him die? The woman pressed.
Fingers curled into a tight fist, nails digging into his palms, arms trembling with the force of his grip. He finally found his voice.
“No” he told her.
Then it wasn’t a mistake? That night – the decision you made. You don’t regret it?
Akira clenched his jaw, terror giving way to cold fury.
“It wasn’t a mistake.”
Then, are you ready to stop burying your head in the sand and face reality as it exists before you? Will you finally acknowledge me? Will you accept my knowledge, my power, and all of the responsibilities that come along with it?
The spirit flung Ryuji high up in the air – high enough that landing meant certain death. Akira stood.
“I will.”
Then I pass the torch to you. Your fate, and that of the world, is in your hands.
The voices in his head, once a low, unsettlingly incoherent cacophony, came together all at once in perfect harmony. They rose from within him like a song, and for the first time, Akira didn’t try to suppress them. He gave himself over to them, body and mind, allowing himself to be swept away on the wave of their melody, stepping into place alongside them – the final chord.
As he did so, something clicked into place within him, setting off a chain reaction. It was as if everything that made up his body, every chakra, every nerve, every fiber, every vertebrae, from the top of his head to the base of his spine, snapped into brilliant alignment all at once. The surge of energy he felt was instantaneous. It flowed freely, a clear spring, drowning every part of him in a waterfall of purifying light. He allowed it to flood, from the soles of his feet up the back of his neck until finally it was pouring out of his eyes, forceful, relentless, like molten rock bursting from the peak of a volcano.
Liquid light exploded from the back of his eye sockets, blinding him. Overwhelmed, Akira fell back on the voices. Their song rose in strength and volume, a symphony from the cosmos. Inexplicably, he trusted them. Their call felt like coming home. Without a second thought, he relinquished control to them, and in that moment, Akira ceased to be.
He was finally at peace.
…
The day he learned he was going on chi blockers, Akira cried.
He was nine years old, and he was about to lose his firebending.
Wanting to grieve alone, Akira had waited until the perfect opportunity arrived to escape the watchful eyes of his extended family – who had been staying with them since The Incident – and wandered deep into the campgrounds outside of Makapu Village. Considering it was autumn, there were plenty of dead leaves and dried sticks scattered across the ground. Akira had gathered as much kindling as he could carry, and found a nice, secluded spot to start a little campfire of his own.
It was there, after dark, sat in front of a fire of his own making – the last fire he might ever make – that his father found him.
“Hey there, little dragon.”
Akira’s father had always been his hero. He was patient and calm, never yelled, and carried himself with the polished confidence of someone who’d achieved a perfect balance between passion and serenity. My tempered flame, his mother often called him, when she was feeling especially cheesy.
That night, he had approached Akira the way he would a wild animal during one of his shoots, slowly, with non-threatening posture and quiet steps. Without another word, he’d sat himself on the ground beside Akira and stared forward towards the flames. He didn’t immediately start to reprimand him for running away, like Akira had expected. Instead, he kept quiet. A stable presence. Tranquil. Understanding. Orange light reflected off his glasses.
Quietly, as if not to be noticed, Akira wiped away his tears. His dad was strong. He never cried.
Except for after The Incident. That was the one and only time Akira had ever seen his dad cry.
And it had been all his fault.
Akira’s father had always been his hero, but Akira was nothing like him.
Ever since he was a little kid, people were always telling him how much he reminded them of his mother. Like her, he wasn’t loud, but he was a bit rambunctious, as if there was an energy to him that he just couldn’t contain. Like her, he had an overabundance of curiosity and an inability to keep his nose out of other people’s business. He was respectful and polite, but not timid or shy. He was talkative and approachable and made friends easily. People often told him he that was cheerful, easygoing, happy. He had his mother’s disposition, people would say, her sense of humor. Her laugh.
It wasn’t just personality, though. He looked like her too. The texture of his hair, the shape and color of his eyes, the width of his smile and the straightness of his teeth, he’d gotten it all from his mother. Sometimes, it seemed, the only thing he’d inherited from his dad was his bending.
And soon, they wouldn’t even have that in common anymore either.
For a while, Akira and his father had stayed just like that, mutually staring into the fire, not saying a word. Just breathing. Just existing. Gradually, as Akira watched a few embers float up into the air, contrasting beautifully against the dark blue sky, a feeling of peace washed over him. His dad was like that – able to calm you down with just his presence.
In the end, Akira was the first to break the silence.
“I scared mom…” He said, not breaking eye contact with the flickering flames. He couldn’t bear to look his father in the eye. Not after all the terror he’d caused. “…I’m sorry.”
For another moment, his father didn’t speak, but he did finally look towards Akira. There was a strange look on his face, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say. And he always knew what to say.
He opened his mouth. He closed it again. He looked at the fire, then up at the sky.
“Your mother….” He started, gaze still turned upwards. This far from the village, you could see nearly all of the stars. “…Your mother had a complicated upbringing. I know her family is close now, but when she was growing up it was… hard. Your grandparents weren’t together, and because she wasn’t an airbender like her sister, she had to live with her father. It was… challenging for her. Growing up around so many Fire Nation families with moms and dads and siblings who all lived together. With Air Nomads its different. Children aren’t necessarily raised by their biological parents. But she couldn’t be a part of that heritage. I think it was… isolating for her. And chaotic. She didn’t know where she fit in. Does that make sense?”
Akira nodded, though he was unsure where his father was going with this, or what it had to do with The Incident.
“Because of that, your mom…. She always wanted stability. That was her biggest dream. A stable family. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
“Yes.” Akira ducked his head.
I am unstable, he thought. I’m the reason mom’s sad all the time.
“Good.” His father nodded. “Your mom and I love you so much. So, if we seem overbearing… it’s just because we want to protect you. We want… we want you to be happy and healthy. We want you to have a normal childhood and grow and learn at your own pace. Make mistakes. Make memories. Have fun. Be a kid.” An emotion slipped into his father’s voice just then. One that Akira didn’t recognize. One he hadn’t heard from him before. It made him feel uneasy. “That is your only responsibility.”
Akira nodded once more, though he didn’t really understand what was going on, and they fell back into uncomfortable silence. Despite the way his father had tried to reassure him, the tone of his voice left him thinking that maybe there was something he should be worrying about. It was subtle but… it was almost like his dad was scared.
Maybe his mother wasn’t the only parent Akira had been terrorizing.
“…Dr. Zhou said when I start my medicine, I won’t be able to bend anymore….”
His father nodded, confirming his suspicions. “That’s right.”
“When that happens… will we still spend time together?”
Akira’s father turned to him sharply, for the first time looking completely stunned.
“Of course we will.” He affirmed. “Listen, the chi-blockers are only meant to be a temporary solution. So, if you’d like, we can still practice firebending together. We’ll go over all the forms, cover all the basics, so that when we do decide it’s time to stop the medicine, you won’t be too far behind. Does that sound like a good plan?”
Akira nodded, infinitely relieved.
“Good. Remember, this is only for a couple of years. It’s not forever. And then… well. We’ll talk about it when you turn sixteen. Sound good?”
He nodded again, folding into his father’s side like he’d never run off in the first place. “That sounds good.”
“Excellent. Now come on. Let’s get you home.”
…
The first thing Akira registered when he came to was a dull throbbing on his forehead.
“Ow….” He shifted, blindly reaching to touch the spot, only to have his hand knocked aside.
“Whoa, don’t touch right now, man. I’m trying to stop the bleeding!”
“Huh…?” That sounded like Sakamoto. Akira strained his eyes, trying to force them to open. It took a much greater effort than it should have, but eventually Akira succeeded in pulling his eyelids apart. His vision was a little blurry, but he could clearly make out a figure hovering over him. “Sakamoto…?”
“Y-yeah, man!” Ryuji’s voice cracked. He laughed. It sounded a bit hysterical. “Uh – that’s me! Hey, be careful!”
Akira ignored him. His vision having adjusted, he attempted to look around. He lifted his head despite Sakamoto’s protests and immediately felt a warm trickle of blood run down the left side of his face.
Looking around, for a moment, Akira thought maybe they’d changed locations – but no. The castle was still there, just a bit further away. However, most of the grass in the field surrounding them had entirely disappeared. The ground looked as if it had been completely overturned, and was mysteriously wet. Off in the distance, part of the forest appeared to have been knocked over – trees bending away from them as if they’d been pushed by an invisible force, some of them entirely snapped in half. A different part of the forest had caught fire. The spirit was nowhere to be found.
Akira swallowed.
Impending disaster.
His heartrate picked up, that same overwhelming sense of dread he’d been feeling since childhood returning tenfold. But it no longer felt like it was right around the corner. It didn’t feel like a nebulous ‘something’ waiting in the recesses of his mind for the perfect moment to reach out and grab him. It was no longer biding its time. It was here.
The evidence was scattered around him.
“What… what happened?” Akira’s tongue was heavy in his mouth. With a sinking feeling, he braced himself for impact.
Ryuji didn’t answer right away. It didn’t seem like he knew how to. He was gaping at Akira with something akin to disbelief. Though beneath his astonishment, there was something undeniably raw in Sakamoto’s expression. His eyes lit with stars, his body buzzed with adrenaline, and his mouth kept doing this thing like it couldn’t decide if he was going to start laughing or crying. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled squeak.
Sakamoto took a deep breath, settling himself.
And then, he exhaled the very phrase Akira had been dreading his entire life.
“Dude… you’re the Avatar.”
Notes:
Anyone here read the Yangchen novels? If so, you might already have an idea what’s up….
Also, I can’t believe it took me nearly 50,000 words to get to this point in the story. Clearly, I do not know how to be brief. Though, I can safely say we’re out of the introductory phase of this fic, so that’s something. I’ve been looking forward to writing the next couple of chapters in particular, so I hope I didn’t put too many of you off with the tone of this one lol. More serious scenes like the ones in this chapter are super challenging for me, because even if something flows really well in my head, the second I sit down to actually write it, it starts to sound kinda silly to me. That’s part of the reason this one took me so long to write (even though I had several portions of it written ages ago lol)(I tend to write out of order). Next few parts definitely have a different vibe, so barring any irl shenanigans, they shouldn’t take as long. Anyway, thanks for reading!