Under the Surface

by mole908

Summary:

After ending a six-year relationship, Asami decides to take a long break and hopes for a perfect vacation on a quiet island. But the reality falls far short of her expectations. The island is overrun with tourists and driven by profit-hungry vendors—like a woman named Korra.

Notes:

The island and its locations are fictional.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Duskreef Island

Asami closed her eyes, letting the sea breeze wash over her face, warm and wet with salt.

She had just ended a long-term relationship—six years with the same man. There was no great betrayal, no screaming matches or broken glass. Just a slow, mutual exhaustion.

So she gave herself permission to disappear. A long vacation, a clean break, two months without contact with the world she used to live in.

She chose a small island on the other side of the planet from the city she once called home—Duskreef Island. She had stumbled upon it one night while scrolling through social media. The beaches, the forests, the impossibly blue ocean—all of it looked like something out of a dream. But what really caught her attention was its reputation as a diving destination. The underwater photos were mesmerizing.

So she booked a flight to the nearest city, then a ferry out to the island. Her phone had been in airplane mode since takeoff—no messages, no calls, no interruptions.

Except, of course... the tourists.

The chatter was relentless.

Waves crashing over the deck? Screaming.

Seagulls flying overhead? Screaming.

Dolphins breaching the surface? Screaming.

With a sigh, Asami retreated back into the cabin. She hadn't realized until too late that April marked the beginning of peak season. The ferry was packed to the rails with travelers. She had picked the wrong time for a peaceful escape.

When the sun dipped low and painted the sea in shades of fire, the ferry finally docked. Islanders lined the harbor, waving and shouting to welcome the incoming crowd.

Someone bumped hard into her shoulder—before she could even see who it was, she was swallowed by the tide of bodies.

Thankfully, the private concierge she'd booked was standing in an easy-to-spot location, holding up a sign with her name printed in bold letters.

He helped load her suitcase into the trunk of the car and drove her to the island's most luxurious resort.

Her suite was spacious, with a floor-to-ceiling window that looked straight out over the ocean. Tiny specks of light dotted the water—fishing boats drifting beneath a sky freckled with stars.

For the first time since she arrived, Asami felt peace settling in.

She soaked in the bathtub, then slipped into bed. The exhaustion from the journey caught up with her all at once, dragging her swiftly into sleep.

So far, the trip wasn ' t so bad.

She didn't leave the hotel until the following afternoon. Slipping into a bikini and a sheer cover-up, she put on her sunglasses and sun hat, grabbed a book, and walked to the island's most famous beach.

The golden sand was already covered in tourists from all over the world. Children ran shrieking across the beach, kicking up footprints in every direction. One of them accidentally knocked over a boy's sandcastle, and tears immediately followed.

Asami managed to find a relatively quiet patch of sand and laid out her mat. She stretched out, determined to enjoy her sunbath in silence, hoping to turn her pale skin a pleasant, sun-kissed bronze.

The sun soaked into her, seeping deeper and deeper into her limbs. She felt like butter slowly melting into the sand.

She rolled onto her stomach to let her back have its turn in the sun. Opening her book, she flipped to the page marked with a ribbon and tried to let the words drown out the noise around her.

She had just begun to lose herself in the story when a sudden, sharp chill ran up her spine and into her skull.

Startled, she jerked her head up.

A group of kids with water guns were chasing each other across the beach, spraying wildly. Cold water had splashed across her back—and onto her book.

"Hey!" Asami shouted, frowning.

"Sorry!" they called, already running off.

She closed her book and lay there a moment longer, but the mood was broken. So much for a relaxing sunbath.

The sun was sinking toward the horizon. The clouds were on fire. The sea, too, was burning.

Asami gathered her things and began walking along the shoreline.

No matter what else happened, she was certain of one thing—she would fall in love with this view.

Not far ahead, a lighthouse stood tall on the reef, gilded in gold by the setting sun. It looked solemn and still against the fiery sky.

But in truth, the lighthouse was the only still thing around.

This spot, after all, was known as the best place on the island to watch the sunset and the lighthouse in one frame—tourists weren't about to miss it.

They scrambled for the best angles, eager to capture themselves against the unique backdrop, phones and cameras clicking nonstop.

Asami regretted leaving both her phone and camera back at the hotel. Sure, she would have more chances to photograph this place, but each sunset was different. This one would never come again.

"Hey."

A voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned—and stopped.

The woman standing behind her had the kind of eyes that made you forget what you were doing.

They were the color of the sky. Of the sea.

Then again, maybe the sea just borrowed its color from the sky, Asami mused.

"You here alone?" the woman asked casually.

Asami blinked. "Um... yeah."

"Want me to take your photo?" she offered, lifting the camera that hung from her neck with a grin.

Asami gave her a once-over: short hair, easy smile, loose T-shirt and shorts, a pair of flip-flops worn smooth at the heel.

The camera looked like it had been through a few lifetimes.

"You local?" Asami asked.

"Yep. I'm Korra." The woman extended a hand. "Saw you standing here for a while. Figured you might want a picture to remember it."

"Asami Sato," she said, shaking Korra's hand. "Thanks. I'd love one. This place is unreal."

"Let me see what I can do," Korra said, already setting Asami's things aside and gesturing her toward the best angle. She gave a few quick pointers on where to look, how to stand, when to smile.

They took a handful of shots, and when they finished, Asami flipped through them on the camera's tiny screen.

A few of them were—honestly—kind of fantastic.

"You're actually pretty good at this," she said. Of course, even if the photos had been terrible, she would've thanked her anyway.

"Obviously," Korra smirked.

"But I didn't bring my phone. How are you going to send them to me?"

"No worries. Come with me." Korra led her a little further down the path to a small pop-up stall tucked under a tarp. A friendly-looking guy inside waved at them.

Asami glanced at the sign hanging overhead:

PHOTOS – $5 EACH

Korra turned to her. "My buddy Bolin can print them for you."

Asami's smile dimmed. "Wait... five dollars a photo?"

"Yup."

That's when it hit her. Korra wasn't just a friendly local. She was a local looking to make money.

Asami felt duped—fooled by her easygoing charm and good looks.

"I don't want prints. Just send me the digital files," Asami said.

"Can't do that," Korra replied flatly. "Not unless..."

"Unless I pay?" There was a flash of contempt in Asami's eyes.

Korra shrugged. "Five bucks a shot. Figured someone like you could spare it."

"I can. That's not the point. You're a scammer."

"Hey, I—"

But Asami was already turning to leave.

The sun disappeared beyond the sea, and the lighthouse light blinked on.

After dinner at the hotel, a waiter mentioned that most tourists liked to spend their evenings at the night market.

It was a lively little street, lined on both sides with tightly packed stalls, and the gaps in between filled shoulder-to-shoulder with tourists.

Asami was gently swept forward by the current of bodies, her eyes scanning the rows of vendors. There were local snacks, colorful island clothing, and all kinds of trinkets and souvenirs.

Nearly every sign boasted the same bold promise: "Handmade."

She paused at a stall selling woven goods, immediately drawn to a bright, eye-catching shoulder bag. But the moment she picked it up, the illusion shattered. It was pretty, sure—but the stitching was coarse, the weave uneven in places. This wasn't the work of skilled hands, but a factory's churned-out product dressed up as authentic craft.

If this was the norm here, it explained the sameness that tinged the market—mass-produced, passed off as handmade. That likely included Korra's stall, too.

Asami spotted her at the far end of the street.

Korra was still dressed as she had been earlier, except now she wore a pair of worn-out sneakers instead of flip-flops. She was standing behind a display of jewelry. Nearby, the mouthwatering aroma of grilled fish curled from a food stall, run by none other than Bolin, the same man who had printed photos earlier.

Korra was in the middle of pitching to a customer.

"This necklace is handmade. Very delicate design."

The tourist seemed convinced. After a bit of haggling, they walked away with the necklace.

Korra looked up, scanning for her next customer—and saw Asami.

Her expression flickered with surprise... and then the smile vanished.

"Looking for something?" she asked, voice cool and businesslike, none of the earlier warmth remaining.

Asami picked up a bracelet. "Is this really handmade?"

Korra hesitated. "Yes."

The words came slower this time. The smooth sales pitch that had come so easily before now caught in her throat.

"It doesn't look like it," Asami said. "The workmanship's pretty rough."

Korra's jaw tightened. "If you're not interested, please move along."

"Or maybe you'd prefer a nice grilled fish instead?" Bolin chimed in helpfully from the side.

"No thanks," Asami replied flatly, walking off without another word.

It had taken less than a day for the island's glossy veneer to start cracking.

She'd come expecting natural beauty and honest, down-to-earth people—Not throngs of tourists and vendors chasing quick profits.

All she'd wanted was to relax in the sun and feel the sea breeze on her skin. Instead, this place felt over-commercialized, almost soulless. Maybe she'd set her expectations too high.

She considered cutting her vacation short. But... she hadn't tried everything yet. Especially the one thing she was looking forward to the most—diving.

Well, she thought, at least the scenery really is beautiful.

---

On her second morning waking up on the island, Asami didn't find golden sunshine streaming through her window. Instead, thick clouds blanketed the sky, and a steady drizzle tapped against the glass, showing no signs of stopping.

Weather like this usually kept the tourists indoors. But for Asami, that was the perfect excuse to go exploring. No crowds. No noise. Just the sound of rain and waves.

She threw on a light, hooded jacket over her T-shirt and stepped out. A bit of rain wasn't going to ruin anything.

She followed the same path as the day before. A few figures still dotted the shoreline, standing quietly as the waves rolled in over their feet, then retreated again, over and over.

The lighthouse—her stopping point yesterday—loomed in the distance. In the rain, it looked lonelier than ever. Asami took out her phone and snapped a photo. It was a completely different scene from the sunset the evening before.

She kept walking along the trail, and soon, a small dock came into view, probably used only for supply boats. To her surprise, even in weather like this, someone was still working, hauling heavy cargo, bag by bag, off a docked freighter. And there was only one person doing the job.

The worker heaved a woven sack onto her shoulder, slowly straightened up, and trudged toward a waiting truck. With a loud thud, the bag landed in the cargo bed.

She pulled down her hood and wiped the rain from her face with a towel.

Asami slowed her steps. Only then did she realize—it was Korra.

Korra paused for just a moment to catch her breath before heading back toward the ship to retrieve more cargo.

Eventually, she lifted the last load. Her clothes were soaked through, rain and sweat plastering her hair to her face.

Two men emerged from a small shack at the dock. One of them handed her a few crumpled bills—maybe fifty dollars, probably less.

Korra took the money in silence and shoved it into her pocket.

She hadn't even walked away yet when the men began talking loudly behind her.

"Labor that cheap on this island now?" one of them scoffed.

"She's drowning in debt," the other one snorted. "She'll do anything that pays."

Asami could tell Korra had heard them—her shoulders flinched, just barely.

She thought of the Korra she'd met yesterday, all grins and swagger, hustling tourists with that easy confidence. But this? This was someone else.

Island weather could change the scenery, could it change a person?

Or... had she just misunderstood her completely?

Asami didn't know what came over her, but she stepped off her planned path. She followed Korra down a narrow side trail. They passed through a small grove of low trees and came into a row of worn-out warehouses.

Suddenly, Korra stopped and turned around. Her blue eyes locked onto Asami.

"Are you following me?" Korra asked.

Asami froze. Then she replied."I'm just out for a walk." 

"In the rain?" Korra arched a skeptical brow.

"You know how crowded it gets when the weather's nice. I prefer quieter days."

"Well." Korra shrugged and turned back around. "Feel free to wander around. I'm home anyway."

Asami blinked. "You... live here?"

"Yep." Korra yanked open a creaky metal door and gestured inside. "You wanna come in? Dry off a little?"

Asami hesitated. The doorway looked dark and cold.

"...Sure," She finally said.

Korra felt along the wall and flipped a switch. A dim, yellow light flickered on, illuminating the sparse interior.

The warehouse had no windows, only concrete walls that sealed in the dampness. Near the entrance sat a folding table and two mismatched chairs—one of them half-buried under a tangle of clothes. Toward the back was a plain cot with a plastic storage bin acting as a nightstand, tucked up against the wall.

"Sorry it's... kind of a mess," Korra muttered. She cleared off the spare chair and slid it toward Asami.

"How long have you been living here?" Asami asked.

Korra peeled off her soaked jacket and hung it on a nail by the door. Underneath, she wore a white tank top, the fabric clinging to her skin, rain and sweat indistinguishable. Her arms were strong, sinewy—built from labor, not leisure.

"About three years," she said.

As she turned back around, she noticed Asami's gaze drifting toward the table. Her eyes had landed on something else.

Korra followed her line of sight. The camera. And the photo—the lighthouse at sunset, with Asami.

"I—uh—look, I'm sorry," Korra said quickly, grabbing the picture. "I didn't mean to be creepy. I just thought this one turned out... perfect. So I printed it. Without asking."

"It is a good one," Asami admitted.

Korra hesitated, then held it out to her. "Here. It's yours. Consider it... a peace offering."

Asami took the photo, then looked back up at her, arching an eyebrow. "You're not going to try charging me for it, are you?"

"If you insist, I won't say no," Korra said with a crooked smile. "But no—no strings attached."

Asami slipped the photo into her bag. "To be honest, I thought you were the kind of person who just... hustles tourists."

Korra gave a dry, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well. Most of the time, I am. Like you saw. Those necklaces I sell aren't really handmade. Just cheap stuff. Nobody's got time for that anymore. Real artisans are getting harder to find."

"That's sad," Asami said quietly. "Some of those crafts deserve to be preserved."

"There's a workshop in town," Korra offered with a shrug. "The real deal. If you care about that sort of thing, they'll even teach you how to make it yourself."

"That actually sounds kind of nice."

Outside, the rain dripped steadily from the eaves, pooling into a small puddle by the door. The drops landed with gentle splashes. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Asami broke it. "I heard diving is pretty big on the island. Ever thought about being an instructor?"

Korra’s body tensed for a split second. She looked up slowly, eyes gone hard.

"That's enough," she said, her voice had gone cold. "You've been here long enough."

"What?" Asami blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. She sensed she'd hit a nerve, though she didn't know why.

Korra stood. "You heard me."

Asami rose to her feet, confused. "I didn't mean to offend you—"

"You didn't offend me," Korra said. "Just go back to your luxurious resort."

"You know where I'm staying?"

"We always know," Korra muttered. "Who's got money, who's likely to spend."

"So that's all I am to you?" Asami asked, her voice tightening. "Someone you size up and think, 'Hey, maybe I can squeeze a few bucks out of her'?"

"What else would you be?" Korra snapped. "A friend? You're a tourist. You come, you go. The only reason you matter to me is because I might make some money off you."

The words hit harder than Asami expected. She took a breath.

"Fine." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a five-dollar bill, and slapped it down on the table.

Then she turned and walked straight out into the rain.

After all that, she thought, Korra really was just another money-hungry street vendor.

Chapter 2: Storm

Asami lay on her back in bed, holding the photo up in front of her, though her eyes didn't quite focus on it.

What she saw instead was the figure behind the camera.

The woman stood against the wind, camera in hand, loose strands of hair lifted from her brow by the salty breeze. In her eyes shimmered the colors of the ocean, the sky, and the setting sun.

She looked free. Unburdened. Like something that belonged to the sea.

That's how she should be, Asami thought. But something had broken her.

Asami let her arm fall and placed the photo beside her.

No. She wasn't going to let that woman affect her mood any longer. She'd come here to escape, not get tangled up in someone else's drama.

Trying to reset her thoughts, she rang the front desk and inquired about the local craft workshop. The concierge told her it was in town, about ten kilometers away, and offered to arrange transportation. She accepted.

Later that morning, the ride took about thirty minutes. The car stopped in front of a modest building. The workshop's sign was just as unassuming, easy to mistake the place for any ordinary local home, unless you walked right up to it.

A woman in her early forties greeted her warmly.

"I'm Kya," she said, ushering Asami inside. "You're here for the weaving workshop, yes?"

Asami nodded. "And to look around, if that's alright."

"Of course." Kya led her through a low-ceilinged hallway into the small showroom. Only a handful of tourists browsed the displays—handwoven baskets, tapestries, traditional tools, old photographs framed on the walls.

"Before tourism, most people here lived by the sea," Kya explained. "Fishing, diving, harvesting shells. Then about ten years ago, the island was 'discovered.' Everything changed."

Asami walked beside her in silence, listening. For the first time, she felt the undercurrents beneath the surface of the island's bustling tourism.

"Tourism also revived interest in traditional crafts," Kya went on. "Visitors helped spread our handmade goods beyond the island."

They stopped in front of a massive woven tapestry.

"Back then, fishing nets were hand-woven. The locals developed a special technique that made them incredibly strong and durable. Senna, the woman who made this tapestry, applied that technique to art instead."

Asami studied the work closely. Colored threads formed hills and oceans, with island symbols telling old stories in a new form.

A small photo of the creator was pinned in the lower right corner.

"Senna..." Asami murmured the name. The woman in the photo reminded her of Korra. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Yes, Senna," Kya nodded. "She pioneered weaving as an art form here. But as tourism exploded, there just wasn't enough time for everything to be made by hand anymore. Most of what you see now are mass-produced imitations."

Asami followed Kya into the next room, where a handful of women sat cross-legged, weaving by hand.

When Asami asked if she could try, they welcomed her with an easy warmth. Their fingers were quick and precise; their eyes patient and kind.

After a few hours, Asami had learned the basic techniques. She'd need much more practice to complete a real piece, but she booked another session before leaving.

Avoiding the crowded tourist spots, Asami felt like she was finally finding the kind of experience she had been hoping for. She had a feeling the rest of her vacation might actually turn out well.

Before leaving, she wandered back to the tapestry and paused there again.

"Senna... is she still here?" Asami asked.

Kya's smile faded. She hesitated, then said quietly, "She's still on the island. But not here."

Asami turned toward her.

"She fell ill a few years ago," Kya said. "It was serious. She's been in the hospital ever since."

"I'm sorry," Asami said.

Kya nodded, then added, "The day it happened, her daughter was out diving with two tourists. There was an accident. It hit them both hard."

"Her daughter?" Asami asked, staring at the photo again. Those eyes—they were exactly like Korra's.

Kya didn't answer. She simply sighed and turned away.

On the ride back, Asami turned Kya's words over in her mind.

A diving accident... If Kya was talking about Korra, then maybe that explained why that one question had struck such a nerve.

Even though she'd already told herself to keep her distance from Korra, maybe... she owed her an apology.

But for the next few days, she didn't see Korra again.

---

 

Scuba diving was by far the most popular activity on the island. Even VIP clients had to book at least two days in advance. Nearly every tourist came here for it. No experience was needed—not even the ability to swim. As long as you weren't afraid of water, the ocean would welcome you. It never disappointed anyone who dared to plunge in.

Asami's first dive took place on her fifth day on the island. The diving center was located on the western side, where a dock had been built specifically for tourists trying out scuba diving.

Her instructor was Mako, a local born and raised on the island with over a decade of diving experience.

Before they got into the water, Mako patiently went over all the safety instructions with her on shore. Once she was suited up and ready, they took a boat out to one of the designated diving spots.

Asami stared at the shifting surface of the water. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her from beneath. Her heartbeat quickened.

Mako gently tapped her on the shoulder.

"All you need to do is breathe," he said. "Trust me—I'll be holding on to you."

Asami glanced at him.

"Deep breath," he reminded her.

She inhaled deeply, just as he'd instructed.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded.

Then, all at once, she lost her balance and was gently pushed backward into the sea.

The moment her body was fully submerged, panic surged through her. She instinctively reached out and grabbed Mako.

He responded calmly, using hand signals to reassure her. He gestured for her to breathe slowly. Once she'd calmed down a little, he gave a thumbs-down—time to descend.

Asami returned an OK sign, and they began their descent together.

She felt pressure building in her ears. Mako pointed to his own ear, then mimed pinching his nose and gently blowing. Asami did the same and felt a soft pop as the pressure equalized.

The world beneath the waves was quiet—eerily quiet. Her own breathing was the loudest sound in her ears.

Gradually, she relaxed and began to enjoy the silence—a rare, suspended feeling of solitude and freedom, disconnected from the world above.

Through her mask, her eyes widened at the sight before her. Vibrant coral clung to the reef, and schools of fish darted through the crevices. She reached out to touch a soft coral, but Mako quickly stopped her, shaking his head and signaling not to touch anything.

They swam through a natural archway of rock, just as a silver school of fish whooshed past them, splitting around their bodies like a shimmering curtain.

Asami completely lost track of time. It felt endless—but soon, Mako signaled a thumbs-up: time to ascend.

They broke through the surface, returning to the world above.

"How deep did we go?" Asami asked once they were back on the boat.

"Four meters," Mako replied.

"Only four?" She could hardly believe it. Down there, it had felt like sinking into a deep abyss.

"This was just your first dive," Mako said with a grin.

Back at the diving center, Asami rinsed off in the outdoor shower before heading into the lounge. A promotional video for the island was playing on the lounge TV.

"Hey," a man beside her struck up conversation. "I'm Lyu. One of the dive instructors here."

Asami offered a noncommittal nod. "Hi." She didn't bother with her name.

On the screen, the video shifted to a woman diving gracefully through the open ocean, framed by shafts of golden light.

"Do you know Kuvira?" Lyu pointed at the woman on the screen, "That's her. Freediving world champ. She shattered the record a few months ago."

Asami didn't answer. She barely knew what freediving was, let alone who Kuvira was.

"She's from this island, actually. Total hometown legend," Lyu said proudly, like her achievements somehow reflected on him.

Mako appeared with a paper cup of coffee. "Here," he said, handing it to Asami. "How are you feeling? Any pressure in your ears, chest pain?"

"No, I'm okay. Thanks." Asami took the cup. She hesitated, then asked, "Was Korra ever a diver?"

Before Mako could speak, Lyu jumped in, far too eagerly. "You mean that Korra?"

His tone already irritated Asami. "Do you know another one?"

"You mean coward Korra?" Lyu said with a grin that made her want to throw the coffee in his face. "She cracked after one little accident."

"Lyu," Mako warned, his voice sharp.

"No, really," Lyu went on, shrugging. "People dive every day. Stuff happens. But she loses one tourist and now she can't even look at the ocean. Come on."

Asami's expression tightened. "She lost someone?"

Mako shot Lyu a glare and turned to her. "She took a couple out on a guided dive. The wife drowned."

"What happened?"

"The woman's tank was damaged. Air was leaking. Korra didn't catch it before they went down."

"And she was pregnant," Lyu added, as if delivering a juicy twist in a movie. "Yeah. Two for one."

Asami's stomach turned. "Wait—pregnant women are allowed to dive?"

"No," Mako said quietly. "They didn't tell Korra. Not before the dive. The husband sued her for everything."

There was a silence after that.

The world beneath the surface was magnificent, yet full of mystery. The ocean had once given Korra the freedom of purpose—only to take it away again. Or perhaps... it really had been nothing more than a moment of carelessness, a tragic accident. But could it really be that simple?

Asami felt her distaste for Lyu deepen. To him, the tragedy seemed nothing more than gossip material. He didn't care about the lives lost, nor about Korra—crushed under the weight of guilt, debt, and the struggle to keep breathing.

"She was good," Mako said softly. His eyes had gone to the horizon, far beyond the window.

"She could've been just like Kuvira."

---

 

Asami's second dive was scheduled for a bright and dazzling morning, sunlight glittering across the waves. She told Mako she wanted to try a deeper site this time.

Just before they entered the water, Mako noticed something unsettling on the horizon—dark, heavy clouds gathering at the edge of the sea. The sky above them was still clear, but a storm seemed to be brewing in the distance.

He leaned toward a crew member.

"Looks like a storm's building," he said in a low voice.

The man glanced up. "Sky's fine. Probably just a passing cloudbank. No big deal."

But Mako frowned. "No. Something's off." He paused, then made the call. "We're going back."

Asami was disappointed, but she trusted him. Storms at sea could turn dangerous fast. Safety came first.

By the time their boat returned to the dive pier, the sky had darkened into a heavy, oppressive gray. Fierce winds tore across the water, raising waves that crashed violently against the shore.

Asami's plans for the day were completely upended. She considered returning to the hotel—until she saw someone near the entrance of the diving center.

Korra.

It was the first time she'd seen her since that awkward moment in the warehouse. Korra was unloading heavy oxygen tanks from the back of a truck, muscles straining with the effort as she stacked them onto a cart.

"Hey!" Asami called out.

Korra paused, one hand still resting on a tank. She looked up, a wry smile on her lips. "Guess your dive's a bust, huh?"

Asami shrugged. "The ocean's not taking appointments today. I was thinking of just heading back."

"It's not safe outside right now," Korra said, her gaze flicking toward the road, where trees were being whipped violently by the wind, some straining to stay rooted.

"You're better off staying in the lounge until the storm passes."

Raindrops the size of marbles began pelting down from the clouds, striking the metal tanks with sharp, ringing notes.

Korra placed the last tank on the cart and pushed it up the sloped entrance, handing it off to a staff member at the center.

"You coming inside too?" Asami asked, catching up to her.

"I'll find somewhere else to wait it out," Korra said.

"It's pouring already."

Korra looked up at the thick curtain of rain, then at the diving center doors.

"It's been years since I set foot in there," she murmured. After a beat, she took a breath. "But yeah. Okay."

Together, they entered the lounge, where other divers and tourists had taken shelter from the storm. As soon as they walked in, the room seemed to shift—eyes turned to Korra, silent, watching. She avoided their stares and sank into a chair in the corner.

She peeled off a pair of dusty work gloves. Her fingers were trembling, just slightly.

Asami returned a moment later with a paper cup of steaming coffee. She pressed it gently into Korra's hands.

Korra blinked, surprised. "Thanks," she muttered. She wrapped her hands around the cup. The warmth began to steady her shaking fingers.

Outside, rain slammed violently against the windows. Neither of them spoke. Korra stared blankly into her cup of coffee, her eyes distant and unreadable. Asami had no idea what she was thinking.

Then the door to the lounge burst open. Mako rushed in, soaked and out of breath.

"Everyone—listen up!" he shouted toward a group of divers huddled near the back.

"What's going on?" one of them asked.

Mako exhaled sharply. "Three dive teams are still out. Two are almost back, but Li's team hasn't returned. One of the tourists is missing. We need to mobilize—now."

The room tensed instantly. The divers exchanged grim looks, their eyes flicking toward the storm raging outside. They were clearly weighing the risks.

Then Mako's eyes landed on the corner.

"Korra!" he called out.

Korra flinched like a startled animal, head snapping up.

"You've done rescues in storms like this," Mako said urgently. "You know the terrain. You know what to do."

Korra's breath hitched. She shook her head. "That was a long time ago. I'm not that person anymore."

Mako stepped closer, voice low. "Someone's missing, Korra. This isn't about what happened before. It's now. And we need you."

Korra's eyes swept slowly across the lounge. Every face had turned toward her. Just like that day—when she'd come back to shore and they'd all stared at her, waiting for an answer.

Didn ' t you check the gear?

How could this happen?

Why didn ' t you save her?

Weren ' t you supposed to be the expert?

The voices blurred in her ears, like a wave of seawater crashing over her. The air felt thin. Her breath came short and shallow. Sweat prickled on her brow. Her body tensed, muscles locking, hands clenching tight. The paper cup in her grip buckled—coffee spilling over her fingers and onto the floor.

"I said I can't!" she suddenly shouted.

She hurled the cup to the floor and shot to her feet, shoulder slamming into Mako as she stormed out.

"Korra—!" Asami rose, ready to follow, but Mako grabbed her arm.

"Stay here," he said firmly. His expression was grim. "I don't want one more person needing to be rescued."

Then he turned back to the stunned group of divers. "We don't have time. Go, go, go!" he barked, rallying them as they rushed out toward the pier.

The lounge fell into a heavy silence. Tourists stopped talking. Asami stood frozen, staring through the rain-streaked window as Korra's figure disappeared into the storm.

Chapter 3: Nightmare

The scorching sun steamed the ocean surface, wrapping Korra in heat and suffocation. Sweat coated her forehead. She forced her eyes open and found herself floating on the sea , with no diving gear on her at all.   Panic devoured her in an instant. Her limbs flailed, and her body began to sink. The water swallowed her whole, flooding her ears, her nose, her lungs. She couldn ' t breathe.

The deeper she sank, the darker it became. Then , faint light shimmered in the distance. Korra twisted her body and swam toward it with everything she had. But what she found wasn ' t hope. It was horror.

The drowned woman was there, holding an infant in her arms. Her face was twisted and pale, her wide eyes locked onto Korra ' s, full of wordless accusation.   Korra tried to swim away, but her body refused to obey , frozen in place.   Behind the woman, a black abyss began to open and pull her in. She reached out toward Korra, a silent plea in her gaze.   Korra's instincts took over , she stretched out her arm, struggling, trembling, until their fingers finally touched.

Then, from the side, a massive fish lunged. Monstrous and grotesque, its gaping maw snapped shut around the woman and the child in a single, brutal bite.

" No! "  Korra screamed in anguish, but her voice dissolved into the water.

The creature turned toward her. Its face twisted and reshaped—becoming the husband ' s,   grinning wickedly.   Then it lunged.

The ocean spun into chaos. Disoriented, weightless, Korra felt her back hit a hard surface—though there was no pain.   When she looked up, Kuvira stood over her, gazing down with cold, piercing eyes.

" You promised, remember? "  Kuvira said.   " We said we ' d dive the deepest trench in the world together. But you ran away , like a coward. That ' s not the Korra I knew. "

" No... it ' s not like that... "  Korra tried to explain, but everything around her had already begun to vanish.

Korra jolted awake, finding herself curled up on the warehouse floor, the room cloaked in dim light. A sharp ache pulsed in her head. She braced herself with one arm and pushed up to stand, but nearly tripped over the scattered bottles at her feet.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath.

She bent down to gather the bottles, but her hand froze. Something caught her eye—a photo lying beside the mess. Even in the gloom, she could make out the two girls in it, shoulders pressed together. Her fingers brushed gently over their smiling faces. It was her and Kuvira, back in high school—full of life, radiant with youth and fire.

Korra picked up the photo, trying to remember how it had ended up here. She had gotten rid of anything related to Kuvira long ago—trashed it, or shoved it somewhere she'd never have to see it again. The only explanation she could think of was that she'd pulled it out while drunk last night.

She let out a quiet, humorless laugh. After all this time, she still hadn't let go—not truly. But she didn't know whether what lingered in her heart was a longing for her ex... or for the person she used to be.

Everything back then had seemed so bright. She and Kuvira had received an invitation—an international diving competition, a real shot at leaving the island, chasing their dreams. But then reality struck like a wave. Her mother had suddenly fallen ill. Even so, her parents urged her to go. Her father promised he would take care of everything.

Then came the accident.

In the end, Kuvira went alone. They never truly spoke again. Kuvira never came back to the island. But Korra saw her on TV, rising to fame as one of the world's top freedivers in just two years. Korra knew she'd earned it.

She placed the photo on the table and glanced at the clock beside it. The hands pointed to eleven. Judging by the light slipping through the crack under the door, it was 11 a.m. She must've spent nearly the whole previous day in a haze, ever since stumbling back to the warehouse in the rain.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Korra, are you in there?" a voice called from outside, it was Tonraq.

Korra opened the door, and blinding sunlight poured in, forcing her to squint. A tall figure blocked part of the light.

"Dad," she said, her voice raspy.

Tonraq's eyes lingered on her face for a moment, then glanced past her into the warehouse. The scent of alcohol in the air made his nose twitch slightly. But he didn't say a word of reproach.

"You got any plans right now?" he asked, voice low and kind. "Wanna get lunch?"

"Uh... I was just about to head out," Korra said.

"Perfect timing then." He offered a tired smile. "I'll wait for you outside."

Korra quickly washed up and changed clothes. When she stepped back out, Tonraq was leaning against his motorcycle, waving her over. She recognized the old thing instantly, it had to be over a decade old by now. When she was little, her father used to take her all over the island on that bike, exploring every hidden path and beach.

As the engine rumbled to life, the wind brushed gently against Korra's face. Just like when she was a kid, she sat behind him, staring at the broad, steady shoulders in front of her.

But the truth was, Tonraq had lost a lot of weight. A chronic lung condition had taken away his ability to dive years ago. He couldn't do any heavy labor anymore, either. These days, he picked up whatever light work he could in town while taking care of his hospitalized wife.

They finally pulled up in front of a small noodle shop.

Tonraq ordered two bowls of beef noodles and a small side dish. They found a seat by the window and sat down.

"How have you been lately?" Tonraq asked.

"I'm fine, Dad," Korra replied. "You should be with Mom."

"Kya and the others went to visit your mom today. She said it was a 'craftswomen's gathering' and kicked me out." Tonraq shrugged, the lines on his face deepening with a smile.

He took a small sip of water. "She's really worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about," Korra said, stirring her chopsticks idly through the noodles. "Same as always. Not better, not worse. Just tell her I'll stop by in a couple of days."

"I heard about yesterday. That storm came out of nowhere."

Korra's hands froze. "What happened afterward? I mean... someone said there were tourists missing..."

"Luckily, everyone made it back safe—tourists, divers, all of them," Tonraq said.

Korra looked out the window. "I ran away."

"No, you didn't, sweetheart." Tonraq gently patted her hand. "You don't have to blame yourself for something that wasn't your responsibility."

"But..." Korra turned her head to look at her father. "You know how hard it was for me to even walk through that door again......"

"I know," Tonraq said. "You've already started trying to change. But you're stuck here. Maybe it's time to step away from this place. You've been working nonstop, taking care of your mom on top of that, you need rest, sweetheart."

"I can't," Korra shook her head, her shoulders trembling slightly. "I can't, Dad."

Tonraq let out a quiet sigh and wrapped his fingers around hers. "I'm sorry. I should've done more—been there for you, taken more of the weight."

"No... it's not you," Korra said, her head bowed. "I've spent so long trying to climb out of this... and I'm still trapped in it."

"That's okay, sweetheart. No matter what, you'll always be my pride. Take your time. Your mother and I—we'll always be here for you."

Tears slid down Korra's cheeks, falling silently into the now-cooling bowl of noodles. She picked up her chopsticks and quickly lifted some noodles to her mouth, trying to hide her emotions—even though she knew, with her father, she never really had to.

---

 

Watching her father ride off on his motorcycle, Korra felt her chest loosen a little. The storm had passed, and above her, the sky stretched out in a brilliant blue, not a single cloud in sight. Tourists would be swarming to make the most of weather like this.

The attractions must be doing good business today, Korra thought as she made her way back to the warehouse on foot. From a distance, she saw someone standing outside the door. As the figure came into focus, she felt a flicker of surprise. Asami was there, dressed in a floral camisole dress with a light cardigan thrown over it. Somehow, Asami always seemed to shine under the sun, just like the first time Korra saw her.

Korra had seen all kinds of tourists. She chatted them up, pitched services, made sales—or didn't. If someone turned her down, she moved on without missing a beat. The island's peak season never ran out of fresh faces, and most of them vanished from memory the moment they left.

But Asami Sato wasn't one of them.

Truthfully, the moment Korra saw her, she had been drawn in, though her rational mind kept insisting Asami was just like any other tourist. Ordinary, or maybe just wealthier-looking than most. That day, Korra had approached her like she did everyone else, trying to make a sale. Asami had turned her down, and called her a scammer. For some reason, that moment stung more than it should have. Korra didn't usually care what tourists thought of her.

"Hey, Korra!" Asami waved and started walking over.

Korra stopped in front of her. "Out for a stroll today?"

"Nope. I'm here for you," Asami said. "I swung by Bolin's stall this morning. He said you were MIA. He tried calling, but your phone was off, so..."

"Oh. Right. My phone..." Korra ran a hand through her hair. She'd totally forgotten about it—probably flung it onto the bed after coming back from the storm yesterday and never looked again.

"Yesterday..." Her voice dropped, soft and a little hoarse. "It was rough. The weather, and... everything."

"Bolin told me you disappear now and then," Asami said. "But you always show back up, alive and kicking. He said nothing really keeps you down."

"He said that?" Korra let out a short laugh. "I guess that's one way to put it. I just... ran." She shook her head, as if to physically dismiss the thought. "Anyway. Why were you looking for me?"

"You offer photography sessions, right?" Asami asked. "I saw the price list at Bolin's booth—$25 an hour."

"Photography sessions... yeah," Korra replied. "You want me to be your photographer?" she asked, not quite believing what she'd just heard.

"That's right. Photographer and guide."Asami said, with a little grin.

"But... there are more professional teams on the island. I'm just an amateur who happens to know her way around a camera."

"Oh, I looked into them. Most of those charge $50 an hour."

"I'm guessing that's not a problem for you." Korra raised an eyebrow, still skeptical.

"No, it's not," Asami said with a shrug. "But your photos are just as good. So why overpay? Just because I can spend more doesn't mean I should."

"...Fair point," Korra said, not arguing further. "So, where do you want to start?"

"Now," Asami replied. "I'm booking you for this afternoon and evening." She glanced at her watch. "It's about 2:30 now. Let's say we wrap up by 9 p.m., and you have to join me for dinner. That's six and a half hours—let's round down to six. How about $150 total?"

"You're bargaining with me?"

"Why not? I'll buy you dinner."

"Not that I mind," Korra said, half-laughing. "Just didn't take you for the haggling type. Some tourists try to talk me down to twenty bucks an hour."

"Twenty an hour..." Asami said thoughtfully. "That'd be $120 total... even better."

"Whoa—hold it right there." Korra raised both hand. "Six hours of nonstop work, multiple locations, full photo coverage—I'm not going below $150."

Asami smirked. "Alright, alright. $150. Deal."

"I'll go grab my gear. Wait here," Korra said, already turning for the warehouse. Then she paused, glanced over her shoulder, and added, "And don't follow me."

Asami gave a little shrug and stayed put. When Korra returned with her camera bag, Asami commented, "You invited me to your warehouse last time, you know."

"I didn't get a chance to clean up today," Korra said. "It's a bigger mess than when you last saw it. I'm afraid if you step in, you'll think I'm a total disaster and cancel your order."

Asami gave her an amused look. "You're lucky I'm a generous client."

After taking Asami to several of the usual tourist spots, Korra borrowed a motorbike from Bolin.

As Asami took the helmet Korra handed her, she asked, "Are we going somewhere far?"

"You said you don't like crowded places," Korra replied, swinging her leg over the bike. "Hop on—I'll show you the wilder side of the island."

The motorbike picked up speed, and Asami's hands naturally settled around Korra's waist. She could catch a faint scent of sea salt and sunshine clinging to Korra's skin. They zipped past the commercial streets and onto quieter, narrower roads.

They stopped at a beach on the island's western coast, where the shoreline was rugged and irregular, the waves wilder and freer. A lone sea turtle was slowly making its way across the sand.

"I like it here, Korra," Asami said, standing in the breeze and taking a deep breath. The ocean air felt even fresher out here.

"These beaches haven't been developed yet," Korra explained. "Tourists usually aren't allowed out this way. No lifeguards, no safety measures, if something goes wrong, no one would notice."

"Hum..." Asami glanced at her guide. "Sounds a little risky."

"I'll keep you safe," Korra said quickly, but her voice faltered slightly. Who was she to promise that? She couldn't even bring herself to go back in the water. If something happened... No. She wouldn't let that happen.

Korra bit her lip, then added more firmly, "No matter what, I'll keep you safe." It sounded more like a promise to herself than to Asami.

"I trust you," Asami replied with a warm smile.

Asami laid out a mat on the sand and invited Korra to sit with her. The undeveloped beach was a little coarse, lacking the soft sand of manicured tourist spots. Asami pulled out the camera and began flipping through the photos Korra had taken. Then she stopped.

"Wait—why is this one here?" she called out.

Korra suddenly remembered. She snatched the camera back. It was a candid shot—one she'd taken when Asami got her hand accidentally pinched by a crab, her expression frozen in dramatic shock.

"Delete it," Asami said.

"Nope," Korra shook her head with a grin. "It's a great shot!"

"I'm your client. You're supposed to listen to me." Asami's tone turned serious.

Korra was caught off guard. Her smile faded, lips parted slightly as she searched for something to say but found nothing.

"What do you think I am to you? A friend?" Asami pressed.

The question hit Korra like a slap. She couldn't argue—after all, back at the warehouse, she was the one who'd said those harsh words first.

"I'm sorry. I overstepped." Korra tapped the delete button, her thumb hovering over the confirmation prompt—when Asami's hand stopped her.

"Do you really think of me as a friend?" Asami asked, her tone now much softer.

"Maybe I do..." Korra murmured, eyes still downcast. "Honestly, being around you feels... easy. Way easier than with any other tourist I've ever met. I'm sorry for what I said to you before."

Asami let out a small laugh. "I'm glad you can admit that."

"You're not mad?" Korra looked up, meeting Asami's gaze.

"I'm not mad," Asami said seriously. "I was just testing the waters, trying to see what you thought. I want to be friends with you."

Korra froze for a moment, then a smile returned to her face. She replied, "Even if we become friends, I'm still charging you."

"That's fine," Asami said.

From the west coast of the island, the sunset painted a different kind of beauty. They lay on the mat, basking in the afterglow.

Korra stared at the slowly darkening sky and let out a quiet sigh.

Asami turned to her. "What's with the sigh?"

Korra hesitated, then chuckled softly. "I just realized... I've been lying here for nearly two hours, doing absolutely nothing. It feels... wrong. Like I should be up, hustling, getting work done."

"Well, technically, you are working," Asami said.

"I guess you're right," Korra smiled faintly. "It's just... I haven't let myself relax like this in a long time."

"What do you usually do during the off-season?"

"I help out at the craft workshop. Take on random gigs, whatever comes up."

Asami was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Did you ever think about leaving? I mean... after what happened?"

"Everyone said I should. Said I needed a fresh start, somewhere far away. It's like the ocean cursed me. I can't get on boats anymore, can't go out to sea—the rocking makes me anxious. Can you imagine? Someone born on an island, who's lived here over twenty years, suddenly getting seasick?" Korra let out a dry laugh at herself.

Asami didn't say anything. She just turned on her side, facing Korra.

Korra felt the weight of that gaze and turned her head. "What? Do I sound completely broken right now? Or just dramatic?"

Asami shook her head. "I just think... you're the most beautiful thing I've seen on this island."

Korra blinked, caught off guard. "...You're serious?" she asked.

Asami didn't look away. "Completely."

Chapter 4: The Truth

Bolin had left Asami's photographs at the hotel front desk, along with several old videotapes. A note was tucked beside them, the handwriting quick and casual: I think you'll be interested in these. Curious, Asami loaded one of the tapes. The moment Korra appeared on the screen in a diving suit, she understood exactly what Bolin was trying to show her.

The footage captured some of the most spectacular moments of Korra's diving career, she moved freely through the deep blue, like a mermaid in her true home. When she surfaced, her wet hair clung to her cheeks, droplets clinging to her lashes sparkled under the sunlight, and her blue eyes were even more beautiful and dazzling than Asami had ever seen in person.

Kuvira appeared often in those recordings—always beside Korra, moving in perfect sync. They seemed like the perfect team—until Asami reached the final tape.

" Hello, I ' m Korra, "  said the woman in the video, waving toward the lens with a playful grin.

" And I ' m Kuvira, "  the other diver on screen introduced herself.

" Today we ' re going to challenge the most mysterious waters near Duskreef Island, "  Korra said. " There ' s a cave there, and no one knows yet what ' s hidden inside. "

" We ' ll be the first to uncover its secrets, "  Kuvira added.

" Wish us luck. "  Korra turned her head after speaking. She and Kuvira exchanged a look—then kissed each other.

They had once been lovers.

Asami's gaze stayed fixed on the two divers as they descended, the light growing thinner until only the beam of their spotlights cut through the water. They swam past thick coral and dark-green seaweed into the cave. The video had no sound, only the silence of a world cut off from the surface. Yet the darkness inside was not complete—the cave walls were studded with glowing algae like scattered starlight, and luminous fish darted past them.

Their movements were cautious, always keeping an eye on each other's condition. As they ventured deeper, a sudden current surged through, making the light shake and the camera lurch wildly. The image blurred, but soon the waters calmed again. Their hands found each other, clasping tight.

Asami felt something twist inside her. Korra and Kuvira had been through countless adventures together, yet Kuvira had abandoned Korra, leaving her at her most broken. Asami couldn't imagine how Korra had endured those days, nor how she felt watching Kuvira rise to fame. But one thing the tapes made impossible to deny was this—Korra had been an extraordinary diver: sharp, capable, instinctive. The kind of person who could read the ocean's mood and walk the knife's edge between risk and survival.

The question took hold in Asami's mind, refusing to let go. Was the accident really the result of a careless mistake? The outcome had been disastrous—but what, truly, had happened beneath those waves?

With questions crowding her mind, Asami sought Mako out, pressing him for the full story of the accident.

"It wasn't all Korra's fault," he began. "The husband had a diving license. He decided—on his own—to stray from the planned route and head straight into a hazardous zone."

The couple's diving gear had been provided by the dive center, and before handing it over, Korra had checked to make sure there were no problems. That's what she had said, but there was no one—and no evidence—to prove she was telling the truth.

Before the couple entered the water, another group of tourists led by a different instructor had equipment trouble on the boat. One of them had begun shouting impatiently, and Korra had to help fix the issue. The husband, with his license and multiple dives under his belt, offered to help adjust his wife's gear himself. Korra gave it only a cursory final check, just the tank pressure and that there were no obvious leaks, before leading them into the water.

"So... where did things go wrong?" Asami asked. So far, nothing in Mako's account struck her as unusual.

"When they recovered the woman's body," Mako said, "they found worn marks on the hose connection to her tank. A small hard object, maybe a grain of sand, had rubbed against it, opening a hairline tear. It eventually caused the leak. The husband swore up and down that Korra had given her damaged gear, and that's what killed her."

"You said he went into a dangerous area?"

"Yeah. That part of the reef had dense coral and chaotic currents. He claimed he was drawn to the coral and just drifted too far. Worried something might happen, Korra had no choice but to follow with his wife. That's when she noticed the woman's breathing was rapid—and realized her tank might be leaking. Standard procedure would've been to immediately hand over the spare regulator to share her own air supply."

"But Korra didn't?"

Mako nodded. "She told the court she'd already lost sight of the husband. The wife was panicking, waving frantically for her to find him first. Korra still swam to her, trying to push the regulator into her mouth, but the churning current wrenched them apart. The woman choked on seawater, the regulator slipping from her lips, her eyes wide with terror as she kicked desperately toward the surface. Korra admitted she panicked too—because she couldn't see the husband and had no idea if he was in danger. Choosing to go after the wife meant leaving him alone, and she hesitated."

Even as just a listener, that helpless suffocation, that crushing pressure beneath the surface, made Asami's own breath catch. And in court, Korra had been forced to relive that moment again and again. Slowly, Asami began to understand Korra's fear of the sea.

Mako took a deep breath before continuing. "Honestly, if it had been me, I wouldn't have known what to do either. Leaving a tourist alone underwater is absolutely forbidden. In the end, Korra chose to go after the wife, but by then it was already too late. Cause of death was drowning. Even though the husband's reckless decision to enter the danger zone was a factor, Korra was still found primarily responsible."

Back at the hotel, the story kept circling in Asami's mind. Her gut whispered the same thought, over and over—

Something was wrong with that man.

When Asami met with Mako again, she laid out her idea—she wanted Mako's help in tracking down the tourist records of the couple from three years ago.

Mako hesitated.

"You really think the husband deliberately killed his wife?" he asked. He didn't think the man had been trustworthy or particularly kind, but... "They looked pretty affectionate when they were here on vacation."

"Humans," Asami said evenly, "are masters of disguise."

"Even if you're right, it's been three years. Finding any real evidence now would be almost impossible."

"You never know until you try. And I'm not aiming to convict him, I just want to ease the weight on Korra's conscience."

After a long moment of thought, Mako agreed to help. He retrieved the dive center's old visitor log and handed her the couple's information.

It was the first time in two weeks on the island that Asami reconnected with her former life. Work emails flooded in by the dozen—but she ignored them all. She made only one call, to her assistant, asking her to dig into the couple's background.

The next day, the report arrived.

The husband, it turned out, had been married twice. His first marriage had included allegations of domestic abuse, though the case was dropped for lack of evidence. More chillingly, his first wife had also "accidentally drowned while swimming." He had used the insurance payout from her death to clear his gambling debts.

The death of his second wife had brought him not only a substantial life insurance payout, but also a large settlement extorted from Korra.

The motive was clear. The history was there. It was entirely possible that before they even entered the water, he had tampered with his wife's scuba gear. He'd led them into the dangerous section of the reef on purpose, lurking among the coral as he watched her drown.

But this was as far as Asami could go. Even if she went to the police, they would almost certainly brush off a three-year-old "accident." Without hard evidence, suspicion alone would convince no one.

---

 

Kuvira had returned to the island. No one had made a point of telling Korra, but news had a way of reaching her ears sooner or later. Asami figured the poster of the famous diver pinned up at the entrance of the dive center was hard to miss anyway.

Leveraging her fame, the dive center organized a special session for students and tourists, with Kuvira herself teaching diving techniques and safety. Asami signed up, partly out of curiosity.

Most of the class was spent with Kuvira recounting her recent adventures—dives in distant seas, strange underwater landscapes, near-misses that made the audience lean forward. She spoke with the confidence of a conqueror returning from victorious campaigns. But she almost never mentioned the island... or the partner she once had here.

When the Q&A began, Asami shifted in her seat, leaning forward slightly, her fingers brushing the edge of her chair. She raised her hand, then lowered it again.

"You there," Kuvira's gaze landed squarely on her, sharp and precise, "you seem to have a question?"

Caught, Asami rose to her feet. "Ms. Kuvira, it's an honor to attend your class. I've learned a lot today. But yes... I do have one question."

Kuvira tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just enough to signal: go on.

"If..." Asami hesitated, choosing her words with care, "If you were leading two tourists on a dive, and one suddenly strayed into a dangerous area and disappeared from view, while the other had an equipment malfunction—say, a leaking tank—and panicked, making an uncontrolled ascent... In that emergency, who would you go after first? The one with the faulty equipment, or the one who vanished?"

A brief silence hung between them. Kuvira's smile froze for half a second—not from confusion, but because the scenario was too familiar.

"I would go after the diver with the equipment issue, without hesitation," she replied, that confident—borderline arrogant—smile returned to her face. "Their situation is immediately life-threatening. As for the one who strayed—well, that was their choice. Every participant signs a waiver before diving; I imagine you didn't read it closely. As long as I fulfill my responsibilities, accidents caused by a diver's own actions are primarily on them. Yes, I may owe some compensation under the rules, but morally... I would not blame myself."

It was a perfectly logical answer. After thanking her, Asami slowly sat back down.

Kuvira was a woman with a chilling kind of rationality—guided by her own principles and ideals, untouched by the sway of others, be they complete strangers or former lovers. So it was hardly surprising that she had chosen to walk away from Korra.

 

During her days on the island, Asami had walked the entire coastline. The ocean and beaches had become familiar sights, but there were still many places in the town and forest at the island's center that she hadn't explored. So, she booked Korra's photography and tour services once more.

That morning, Korra led her on foot from the resort, over a low hill, until the small town where the island's native residents lived came into view.

They were walking along a narrow trail through the shrubs when a figure at the street corner made Korra freeze. Sunlight struck Kuvira's profile. She turned her head, and her gaze locked onto Korra's.

"Korra," Kuvira said, taking a few steps toward them. "Long time no see. I didn't expect to find you here." There was no hint of surprise on her face, and her voice was unnervingly calm.

Korra only gave a small nod and said nothing. She avoided Kuvira's eyes and tried to pass, but Kuvira stepped into her way again.

Asami moved forward slightly. "Kuvira," she said, forcing her voice into neutrality. "Hi."

Kuvira's gaze flicked over her, lingering just long enough to show she remembered exactly who Asami was. Then her eyes slid back to Korra. "Still guiding tourists here on the island?"

The faintest sound of Korra's inhale was the only reply at first. Her breathing was steady but heavy. Finally, she looked up. There was no warmth in her eyes, only the hollow silhouette of the woman she had once been. "Yes. I'm working. If you have nothing else, move."

"My apologies." Kuvira shifted aside.

Korra walked past her.

"You never recovered," Kuvira's voice came from behind. "That's... pathetic."

Korra stopped, shoulders tightening. "I don't expect you to understand."

"You always longed for the deeper sea. You're not meant to be like this."

Korra turned, her eyes sharp. "And what exactly should I be? Always smiling? Pretending I can fix everything?"

"Strong. Fearless," Kuvira said. "Even if you can't fix everything, at least face it."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Korra's eyes. "Then I'm sorry. You had the wrong person." She turned away and walked quickly ahead.

Asami followed, catching a last glimpse of Kuvira still standing where they had left her.

In the afternoon, they arrived at an old local coffee shop. As a guide, Korra was supposed to tell her guest about the town's history and culture, or perhaps take photos in this uniquely decorated café. But instead, they simply sat there, occasionally lifting their cups to take a small sip of coffee. The aroma and the soothing background music flowed between them, yet did nothing to ease the heavy atmosphere.

Asami's gaze lingered on Korra for a moment longer before she finally spoke. "That accident... it might never have been your fault."

The words struck Korra instantly, snapping her out of a daze.

"W–what?"

"I looked into that couple," Asami began, and told her what she had discovered.

Korra's brow furrowed, her fists slowly curling tighter. Asami could sense the anger building inside her tense frame. But when Asami finished speaking, the explosion she expected never came—only silence, as if the fury had been drained away.

"Even if the truth is exactly as you say... what does it matter now?" Korra's voice was low, hollow. "I've lost everything. Nothing can be taken back."

"I just want to lighten what you've been carrying," Asami said softly. "This was never your fault."

Korra shook her head. "I couldn't save that woman. I watched her struggle!" Her voice suddenly erupted. "I couldn't even get that damn regulator back into her mouth!"

In an instant, every eye in the café turned toward them—some curious, some annoyed.

"Korra, breathe," Asami murmured.

Korra bit her lip hard, closed her eyes, and tried—again and again—until her breathing steadied and her clenched fists slowly loosened.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, meeting Asami's worried gaze. "I'm supposed to be working for you, helping you enjoy this trip, but I..."

"It's fine," Asami cut in.

"I think... I need to end early today, if that's alright." Korra's words came quickly, "I won't charge you. I haven't done my job at all, and I ruined the day for you."

"Today I'm not your client," Asami said, reaching across the table to take Korra's hand. It was ice-cold, slick with sweat. "I'm your friend. And friends are allowed to fall apart sometimes."

"...Thank you." Korra's lips curved slightly, as if she was trying to smile, though it looked nothing like one.

"What will you do next?" Asami asked.

"Go to the hospital," Korra replied. "My dad's out on the fishing boat tonight. I'll be staying with my mom."

"I'll come with you."

Korra looked at her in mild disbelief.

Asami lifted her left wrist, showing the woven bracelet, clumsy knots and uneven braids. "I made this myself," she said, with a little smile.

"I noticed," Korra said dryly. "Mass-produced ones usually look better."

"Hey—" Asami protested in mock offense.

"But... for a beginner, it's not bad," Korra admitted.

"I know it's far from perfect," Asami said, "but I heard your mom's an incredible artisan. I was hoping to get a few tips from her."

Korra hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

This was the only hospital in the small town. In the ward, Asami met Senna, who was half-reclined on the bed, the raised mattress supporting her back. Years of illness had drained the color from her face.

"Hey, Mom," Korra said.

"Sweetheart." At the sight of her daughter, Senna shifted, forcing herself to sit a little straighter despite the effort it cost her.

"This is my... friend," Korra introduced.

"Asami Sato," Asami said, leaning forward with a polite smile as she extended her hand. "It's an honor to meet you."

"And you," Senna replied with a warm smile.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Asami removed the bracelet from her wrist and explained why she had come.

Senna took the bracelet, turning it over and examining the details. "You've done well, dear."

"Korra said it's not as nice as the factory-made ones."

Senna shot her daughter a sharp look before turning back to Asami. "Don't listen to her nonsense."

"I was only joking," Korra said with a shrug.

"I'm sure there's still plenty of room for improvement," Asami said with a small laugh. "Here—see this spot? I think I crossed the threads wrong." She pointed at a spot where the pattern had gone astray.

"A small issue, dear," Senna said, reaching for a knitting needle from the bedside table. She always kept her tools close at hand, along with half-finished pieces of work. With her trembling fingers, she began showing Asami how to undo and fix the mistake, guiding her patiently step by step.

Korra found herself an observer. The ease between Asami and her mother was more natural than she'd expected. She was happy to see her mother's face light up with an unguarded smile. Gathering Senna's laundry, Korra excused herself and headed for the washroom.

By nightfall, the hospital had shed its daytime bustle. The beeping of machines echoed down the corridor. A few energy-saving lights hung from the ceiling, casting soft ovals of light on the floor.

When most patients had drifted into sleep, Korra and Asami sat together on a narrow bench in the corridor.

"You should head back," Korra said. "I can call the hotel and have them send a car for you."

"It's fine." Asami shook her head. "I can stay here with you tonight."

"Sleeping on a bench isn't exactly pleasant."

"I know." Asami let out a quiet laugh. "I used to be a workaholic. Sleeping overnight in an office chair was a pretty common thing for me."

"A workaholic, huh?" Korra arched a brow at her. "And yet you walked away from your job for two months?"

"I was burned out," Asami admitted. "On top of work, I was trying to keep a relationship going... but in the end, we broke up. That's when I realized there's nothing in life you can't let go of—work included."

"Nothing you can't let go of..." Korra leaned her head back against the wall, repeating the words under her breath.

"Do you... still love Kuvira?" Asami asked.

Korra gazed up at the dim ceiling lights. The halo blurred in her vision, just like the lamp in the changing room of the dive center. That was where she and Kuvira had their first kiss—back then, the only thing in her eyes had been that same hazy glow.

"We were together since high school," Korra said softly. "Every training session, we were practically inseparable. But besides being lovers, we were rivals too—always in love, always competing. We could see ourselves reflected in each other. That's what kept us going."

She let out a bitter breath. "When I walked away from diving, she lost her target. The person she measured herself against was gone. You saw her today, she's still trying to provoke me."

Asami tilted her head. "She's beaten countless opponents, won countless titles, and still... she sees you as her greatest rival?"

"Not me," Korra said quietly. "Her idea of me. The Korra she loved was probably just someone she'd invented—a version that never existed. She didn't want to see my weakness. Couldn't accept it."

"When she left the island without looking back, I realized that. I also realized there was no way for us to go back to what we had. You ask me how I feel about her now..." Korra drew in a slow breath. "I'm not sure. But when I see her, I think about the past—not ours, but mine. She is... who I used to be."

"Past or present—it's all still you."

Korra stared at her, stunned. Her mouth half-opened before she finally managed to push out a few words. "Thank you. I... feel a little better."

She lowered her head, her eyes losing focus on the yellowed floor. "Bolin says I always disappear for a while and then come back all lively again... but it's not healthy. I hide in the warehouse and drown my feelings in alcohol. So..." She glanced at Asami again, a hint of relief tugging at her lips. "Thank you for staying with me."

Asami leaned against Korra's shoulder. The hallway's air conditioning was chilly, but she could feel the warmth radiating from Korra's skin. Sleep began to creep up on her—until a sudden thought pulled her back.

"Are you free the day after tomorrow?" Asami asked.

"The day after...?" Korra counted in her head. "Wednesday. Nothing planned. Probably just going around the tourist spots, picking up clients."

"Then can I book you for the whole day?"

Korra frowned in confusion. "But you've got a diving lesson Wednesday. You wouldn't need me."

"I want you to come with me to my diving lesson."

The muscles in Korra's shoulders tensed instantly. "I..."

"I don't mean you have to get in the water," Asami said, taking Korra's hand. "And you don't even have to ride the boat out to the dive site. Just... stay at the dock or the dive center. I want you to be there."

Korra held her gaze for a long moment before a slow nodding.

Chapter 5: Whispers

Korra wasn't even sure what she was supposed to be doing. Walking into the dive center alongside Asami felt strangely ordinary, almost like the countless mornings years ago when she had been an instructor.

Yes, just a quiet morning.

She didn't even feel the same nerves she had the last time she'd been here. They followed the usual routine, heading for the changing rooms. A few minutes later, Korra emerged alone; lingering there would have made her look like some awkward creep. The instructors' locker room was actually on the other side anyway, but it didn't matter—she didn't need to change. Normally, the tourists and trainees would exit through the far door after changing and head straight to the pier. So Korra decided to wait for Asami there.

A cluster of instructors were loitering near the boats, chatting lazily as they waited for their students. The boats bobbed against the pier, engines ready, ropes taut—any moment now, they could set off.

"Hey, Korra," Mako called out, spotting her. The rest of the group fell quiet.

"Hey," she replied, casual but clipped.

"Asami mentioned you'd be coming along today," Mako said. "Didn't say what for, though."

"Honestly?" Korra gave a small shrug. "I don't really know either. She wanted me here, so here I am."

One of the other instructors gave a mocking snort. "No place for bystanders on the pier," he said. "When something happens, all they do is stand back like cowards."

"No, she bolts," another chimed in with a laugh, loud and cutting.

Korra said nothing. She forced herself to breathe evenly, shoving the anger back down where it burned. She wasn't going to let them—or herself—ruin this morning.

"Enough!" Mako snapped, his voice sharp enough to silence the laughter. He stepped closer to Korra, lowering his voice. "Sorry. That was out of line. What happened back then, it was my mistake. I pushed you too fast."

Korra gave the faintest shake of her head. "Don't. It's fine." Her tone was flat.

One by one, tourists began to gather at the pier. Then Asami appeared. She wore a sleek wetsuit that traced her frame in fluid lines, her long black hair braided into two plaits that brushed over her shoulders.

Korra's eyes lit up at the sight of her. She remembered—she used to braid her own hair like that before dives, while Kuvira had always preferred a single braid.

Korra's gaze lingered on Asami for half a second before darting away. "You look... uh..." she stammered.

"What do I look like?" Asami teased, tilting her head.

"Like it... suits you," Korra muttered.

"Just suits me?" Asami arched a brow.

Korra hesitated, her lips twitching before she forced out, "Beautiful. Free."

"Did you ever talk to your students like that?"

"Of course not!" Korra blurted, flustered. "I only ever told them whether their gear was right, or safe."

Asami's lips curved in a small, knowing smile.

Before Korra could say more, Mako's voice cut across the pier. "Time to go, everyone!" he called to his three students.

"I'm boarding now." Asami gave Korra a quick wink, then leaned in and brushed a kiss against her cheek before hurrying after Mako onto the boat.

Korra froze, caught completely off guard, her face flushing red as the boat engine roared to life, drowning out any words she might've managed. She stood there in a daze until the vessel pulled away from the dock—then finally raised a hand, waving faintly toward its receding shape.

When all the instructors and tourists had boarded and left, the pier was silent, leaving Korra alone. She sprawled idly on a lounge chair beneath a sunshade, with nothing to do.

She knew, of course, what Asami was doing. This was her way of helping, guiding Korra step by step through her fear, from the moment she had walked into the dive center, to setting foot on the pier.

Almost unconsciously, her fingers brushed the spot where Asami's lips had touched her cheek, and her heartbeat quickened. It felt as if she had been swept into a different, more turbulent tide.

Just yesterday morning she had said goodbye to Asami, yet by evening she had been desperate to see her again. Sleep had eluded her; she woke before dawn and ended up going straight to Asami's hotel, waiting in the lobby for two hours.

She had fallen in love with Asami.

Korra immediately shook her head, trying to chase the thought away. It was madness. Asami would leave eventually. And worse—she was probably straight. Loving a straight girl could only end in pain.

Her thoughts drifted aimlessly, until the hypnotic sound of waves brushing against the shore lulled her into sleep.

A sudden swell broke against the pier, spraying seawater across her body. The icy touch startled her awake, and as she rolled she nearly toppled off the chair. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she blinked at the screen—she'd been asleep for more than two hours. Her stomach growled in complaint.

She stepped out from under the umbrella; the midday sun was glaring, relentless. Squinting toward the line where sea met sky, she waited, hoping to glimpse a tiny dark speck appearing there. The boats would take time returning from the dive site, but still—she couldn't help it.

It reminded her of childhood, standing on the shore and staring at that same horizon, waiting for her father's boat to come back from the sea.

And now, at last, the returning vessel began to take shape against the horizon, parting the water as it drew closer, closer.

The boat slowly docked at the pier, and the tourists jumped off one by one, chatting and laughing. Among them was Asami, her dive mask dangling loosely across her chest, her damp hair clinging to both cheeks. She walked straight toward Korra.

"I went down to sixty-five feet today!" Asami said excitedly. "Mako told me I'll be ready to take the certification test next time."

"Wow... that's incredible" Korra smiled. "You're really going to become a professional diver."

"That is... unless I end up staying here long enough."

She would eventually leave—Korra felt a pang of sadness. With just over a month left, how much time would they really have together?

They shared a very late lunch, then spent the afternoon at the beach. That evening, the sunset painted the sky with a beauty all its own.

Asami stepped barefoot onto the sand, wading into the shallow waves until the water lapped around her calves. The last light of the sun caught her silhouette, merging with the shimmering reflections on the water. Korra lifted her camera almost instinctively, capturing the moment.

Asami glanced back and waved. "Korra, come on! Don't just stand there!"

Korra froze where she stood. For an instant, the brightness in her vision dimmed, and beneath the calm surface she thought she could sense some hidden monster, ready to swallow them whole. She looked down, her calves trembling slightly. But Asami was there, calling for her.

The tide surged forward, brushing against her toes. Korra kicked off her sandals and pressed her feet into the sand. As the water receded, the shifting grains tickled her soles with a numbing softness. Lifting her head again, she looked toward Asami. With the next wave's rush and retreat, she followed its pull, stepping forward. The gentle water washed over her ankles, then her calves. She stared at the wavering light patterns on the surface, falling into a trance—until Asami's hand caught hers.

"See? The ocean isn't so scary after all," Asami said softly.

Korra's lips curved into a small smile. "It's... actually kind of peaceful. Familiar, even." Her eyes lingered on the distant horizon, where sky and sea met in fire-colored embrace.

Then she heard a sharp click. Turning back, she saw Asami standing a few steps away, holding her phone up toward her.

"Hey, you're sneaking photos of me!" Korra exclaimed.

"As you'd say, this is a candid," Asami replied, laughing. "And honestly? I think this one's perfect."

Korra rolled her eyes, and walked over . "Let me see it."

Asami held out the phone. "It really is beautiful," Asami whispered—not looking at the photo, but at her.

 

---

Korra pushed open the bar's door, the brass chandelier casting a honey-colored glow over the counter. Inside, only a handful of patrons sat scattered across the dim space. Tucked away in one of the town's narrow alleys, the bar wasn't the kind of place tourists usually stumbled upon. She let her eyes sweep the room before settling on a table by the window.

"Already ordered?" Korra asked as she dropped into the seat.

"Obviously. The usual," Bolin said with a grin.

"Mako's not coming?"

"He's got a late-night dive job. Already out cold, saving his energy."

Korra gave a knowing nod. "Feels like forever since the three of us had a drink together."

"You know how crazy busy Mako gets during peak season. And besides..." Bolin shot her a pointed look, "...these days, getting you to come out for a drink is its own kind of miracle."

"Uh..." Korra scratched the back of her neck, eyes darting away. She used to come here with Bolin all the time after a long day of taking photos. Sometimes Mako would tag along, and they'd drink and complain about fussy tourists. But now, most of her time was spent with Asami.

The bartender set two glasses of whiskey down. Bolin took a sip, then leaned back.

"I've been wondering..." he said slowly. "Asami—she's really just a tourist to you?"

"Why wouldn't she be?" Korra countered quickly. "She's here on vacation. She pays me, I provide the service. That's it."

"Mhm." Bolin's smirk said he wasn't buying a word.

Just then, Korra's phone buzzed. She flipped it over and saw Asami's name.

 

Asami: thinking of heading to one of the smaller islands tomorrow.

Korra: you mean Whisper Cay? scenery ' s great there.

Asami: that ' s the one.

(a pause ...  three dots blinking, disappearing, blinking again)

Asami: want to come with me?

Korra: do you want me to come with you?

Asami: it ' s fine if you don ' t. i don ' t want you to feel pressured.

Korra: please. just say you want me there.

Asami: ... you know it ' s a boat ride, right? don ' t push yourself too hard.

Korra : I know. I ' ve got seasick pills.

Asami : Those don ' t actually work on you. You ' re not really seasick.

Korra : exactly. my seasick pills aren ' t really seasick pills.

Asami : (???)

 

"Who're you grinning at?" Bolin's voice cut in suddenly.

Korra nearly dropped her phone. "No one. Nothing important."

"Asami?" Bolin arched a brow. "Come on, your smile's about to crack your face."

"Work message," Korra muttered, way too fast.

"Uh-huh. Totally believable." In one swift move, Bolin snatched the phone right out of her hands.

"Hey!" Korra lunged, but he twisted away, already reading in an exaggerated stage voice: "'Please. Just say you want me there.'"

"Bolin!" She swatted at him furiously.

"Ohhh, and here's my favorite—'my seasick pills aren't really seasick pills.'" He looked up, grin wicked. "What, were you trying to say she's your seasickness pill?"

Korra's entire face went crimson. She leapt up, smacked him hard on the head, and yanked the phone back.

"OW! Careful, I need these brain cells!" Bolin groaned, rubbing his scalp with over-the-top dramatics.

"You deserved it," Korra shot back, thumbs flying as she quickly finished the chat.

 

Korra : See you tomorrow. Goodnight .

 

She shoved her phone into her pocket and downed a gulp of whiskey, hoping the burn in her throat would hide the heat in her cheeks.

"Work messages that flirty?" Bolin asked, one brow raised.

"I haven't been on a boat in years," Korra muttered. "I just... need a push."

"You're too obvious." Bolin shook his head, smiling faintly. "Mako told me the way you looked at Asami on the pier—you might as well have kissed her."

Korra's eyes widened. The blush that had just begun to fade came flooding back, and the whiskey in her mouth nearly sprayed across the table. She forced it down in a rough swallow. "You—what did you just say?"

"All these years you've been wound tight," Bolin said. He paused, studying her intently, as if peeling back her defenses. "But being around Asami... you've loosened up. A lot. You love her."

Korra leaned back into her chair. She didn't deny it. A sigh slipped free instead. After a long beat, she said quietly, "She's going to leave."

"Then you could leave too."

Korra turned toward the window. Moonlight cut across the floor in fractured patterns, swaying gently with the sea breeze.

You could leave too.

The words echoed inside her. She'd heard them before, countless times. But fear was a cage that had always kept her here, curled in on herself. Hiding felt safer. Yet for the first time, she felt an ache to break free, to chase after the light Asami had lit for her.

That night, Korra slept poorly once again. Excitement tangled with anxiety in her chest, her restless heart thudding against her ribs. She was up before her alarm ever had the chance to ring.

She and Asami had agreed to meet at the pier—it felt a little improper to just wait for her at the hotel. So she stopped by a convenience store, bought a roll and a coffee, and made her way down to the docks.

The horizon was only beginning to glow, and the sea breeze carried a trace of chill. There was one thing Korra hadn't considered: this pier was for tourists, not like the dive center's dock or the cargo pier that stayed open around the clock. What greeted her was nothing but a set of locked gates. With a small sigh, she sat down on the bench by the mermaid statue and finished her breakfast.

By the time Asami arrived, Korra had already bought the boat tickets. They followed the trickle of people moving toward the gate.

"You're always earlier than me," Asami remarked.

"Professional habit," Korra replied.

"So how long were you waiting? Don't tell me you showed up right when they opened."

"To be precise, I got here before they opened."

"Why?"

"Woke up too early. Couldn't get back to sleep." Korra shrugged like it was nothing.

"You were... nervous?" Asami asked gently.

"To be honest? Yeah." Korra held out her right hand; they hadn't even reached the gate yet, but her palm was already damp with sweat.

"I'm sorry..."

"This was my choice," Korra cut in with a faint smile. She handed her ticket to the attendant, passed through the turnstile first, then turned back to wait for Asami.

"I don't want to stay stuck in place," she said. "You've already made me take a step forward, haven't you?"

"All I did was ask you to come with me."

"And that's enough."

The line of people slowly advanced, and as soon as her foot stepped onto the deck, the gentle sway of the ship made Korra's muscles stiffen. She felt the air being pulled from her lungs.

"It's okay," Asami said softly. She stepped forward, brushing her shoulder against Korra's. Then she turned back, offering her hand. Korra took a deep breath and placed her hand in Asami's palm.

The cabin quickly filled with passengers, and with a loud blast of the ship's horn, they slowly pulled away from the harbor.

The ship rocked steadily, a rhythm Korra hadn't felt in years. Each rise and fall churned her stomach. She glanced out the window, watching the waves roll, and a sudden dizziness washed over her. Her mind instantly flashed back to the day of the accident: their boat had been stranded on the endless sea. That poor woman had lain on the deck while rescuers frantically performed CPR, but she never woke, along with the life she carried. Korra had just stood nearby, frozen, watching everything unfold—until the woman's husband charged over and struck her hard. She still wore her dive mask, and the shattered glass had cut a line across her eye socket.

Korra bit her lip, trying to stifle the nausea clawing at her throat. She felt her clenched hand being enveloped by another, a gentle rub along her back. She heard Asami whisper near her ear, "Breathe, Korra."

Irritation pricked at her—she was breathing. Why wasn't it enough?

"Hey!" another voice chimed in beside her. "Your friend looks like she could use some seasickness medicine."

An elderly woman handed Asami a small bottle of pills and an unopened bottle of water. Asami didn't refuse; she thanked the woman and accepted both the pills and the water. Then, she turned back to Korra, tilting the pill bottle slightly. "Here, it's okay. Take one. It might help a little."

Korra panted and said,"I... I'm not really seasick."

"I know. It's just something to help your body relax a bit."

Korra hesitated, then reached out and took the pill, washing it down with water. Honestly, it did little to ease the queasiness churning in her stomach.

"Focus on me," Asami said gently. "Don't think about the waves. I'm right here."

Korra slowly lifted her gaze, meeting Asami's eyes.

"You must have been to Whisper Cay before," Asami said, steering the conversation gently, "Tell me about the island."

Korra drew a few quick breaths before speaking. "When I was a kid... it was my secret base."

"No one lived on the island?" Asami asked.

Korra shook her head. "It's a tiny island, completely uninhabited," she said, her voice gradually steadying. "A few years ago, the government turned it into a park, so now it's a tourist spot. Since then, I haven't been back."

"And its name? Where does that come from?"

"Whisper...There are a few caves carved into the reef. When the wind blows through them, it sounds like whispers. When I was little, I thought it was the ocean speaking its own language." She leaned back against the seat, her lips curving into the faintest smile. "I'd sit there for hours, listening, convinced that one day I'd crack the code and talk back to the sea."

The crossing wasn't long—barely fifteen minutes—but to Korra it stretched like an ordeal. When her feet finally touched solid ground again, she inhaled deeply, as though she could drink in the crisp air to rinse away the nausea.

"You okay?" Asami asked.

"At least I didn't throw up," Korra said with a crooked smile.

"You did it."

"You mean something as trivial as taking a boat ride?"

"Facing fear is never trivial," Asami said.

At that, Korra's shoulders eased. "You're right."

Like the other tourists, they first stopped by the island's most famous landmark—the Whispering Reef. The sea hummed in low voices, carrying with it the vastness of history and the mysteries hidden beneath its surface.

But soon Korra tugged Asami away from the crowds, slipping into the forest. The narrow trail she had once trampled into the undergrowth was long lost to weeds, but she trusted her memory and pressed on.

To her relief, her old hideout was still there.

"This is the cabin my dad and I built," Korra said, pressing lightly against the door. The hinge groaned, then gave, the door sagging limply against the frame.

The hut was tiny—almost comically so—forcing them to duck as they stepped inside. A hammock made of fishing net drooped in one corner, thick with dust.

"This was my favorite spot when I was little." Korra flopped onto it without hesitation—only for the rope to snap with a sharp crack, sending her sprawling.

"What the fuck!" she yelped, clutching her back.

"You're not a kid anymore, Korra," Asami teased, laughing as she offered her a hand.

"Or maybe the net's just a couple decades past its prime," Korra muttered, pulling herself upright.

That was when Asami's eyes landed on a small deep-red chest in the corner.

"My treasure box," Korra said.

"Can I see?"

"Go ahead."

They carried it to the broken hammock and sat down together. Asami tilted the lock toward her. "Key?"

Korra frowned, folding her arms as she tried to recall the last time she'd seen it. Probably in her old bedroom, back before the house was sold. She'd never once spotted it in the warehouse where she lived now.

"Forget it," she said at last. Picking up a stone, she smashed the lock open.

Inside lay seashells, smooth pebbles, brittle starfish. Korra lifted an amber-colored stone, turned it in the shaft of light from the window, then tossed it back. "Kids will collect anything useless."

"To them, these are priceless treasures," Asami countered, carefully sifting through. Her fingers brushed against something at the bottom: a folded piece of paper.

She drew it out—it was a hand-drawn map, marked with black ink X's across the sea surrounding Duskreef Island.

"What are these marks? A treasure map?" Asami asked.

"Dive spots," Korra said. "But... yeah, guess it's a treasure map too. Most of these shells came from those dives."

"Then they're not useless at all." Asami held a shell against her chest like a medal. "They're badges of honor. How old were you when you made all these?"

"Before middle school, I think. After that... I only came here once in a while."

"You were born to dive," Asami murmured, studying her. "Maybe you were a fish in your past life."

Korra let out a short laugh, but her smile faded into something bitter. "That was another Korra. Feels like someone else's story now."

"No," Asami said, her voice steady as she tapped lightly against Korra's chest. "She's still right here."

Korra's heart skipped, caught off guard by the gentle weight of her touch.

On the return trip, Korra felt much better. As long as she didn't keep staring at the waves, she could even stand on the deck and enjoy the sea breeze. She let her gaze linger on Asami instead.

Asami rested lightly against the railing, gaze lost in the horizon. The wind played with her hair, lifting dark strands into the sunlight, the sea and circling gulls framing her in motion and color.

Korra raised her camera, almost instinctively—then lowered it again. A picture wasn't what she wanted.

"Asami, I..." Her voice faltered.

"What is it?" Asami turned toward her, brows drawn in gentle confusion.

"Nothing..." Korra muttered, fiddling aimlessly with the camera in her hands.

"Korra."

At the sound of her name, Korra looked up—and found Asami's lips only inches away. For a moment the wind stilled, the crash of waves and the chatter of tourists fell into silence.

Asami leaned in, her fingertips brushing Korra's cheek. Her lips, soft and uncertain, ghosted against hers in a question more than a claim. The camera slipped from Korra's hands, swinging forgotten against her chest. She drew Asami closer by the waist, closing the distance. She closed her eyes, and pressed her mouth firmly to hers. Her senses swam with the intoxicating scent of Asami's skin, her tongue trembling with the ache of desire.

Time stretched and collapsed all at once. When at last they drew apart, no words were spoken. They simply stood side by side, gazing out at the Whisper Cay in the distance—an emerald jewel gleaming in the endless sea.

Chapter 6: Redemption

Notes:

While diving plays an important role in the narrative, the details do not strictly follow real-world techniques or limits. Please enjoy them as part of the fiction, not as instruction.

Asami spent almost her entire last week on the island in the hospital.

The memory of that day was etched into her mind like a scene from a horror film, every flashback left her shaken. The sudden collapse of the coral reef, the cloud of sediment spreading like black ink, the view darkening to nothing, the suffocating panic as her air drained away. In that moment, Asami finally understood Korra's fear of the ocean—that bone-deep terror only those who had lived through it could truly grasp. The sea nurtures countless lives, but it also swallows countless more. No one can ever truly conquer it; only reverence can meet its power.

Before that day, Asami had successfully earned her AOW certification, which meant she could dive without relying on an instructor. That morning, she had gone down with three others, all certified as well. At around 65 feet, they split into pairs to take different routes, agreeing to meet back at the same spot after a set time and ascend together. Asami was paired with a man named Varrick. They had dived together a few times before, and truthfully, she'd always found him a little careless. He liked to tease the sea turtles as they swam past, but up until then, at least, he hadn't crossed any serious lines.

Their route led them through a patch of shadowed reef. Varrick dove with his usual swagger, as though wearing some amplifier of confidence—though, in his case, he always did. He darted after schools of fish, weaving between coral heads, disappearing from Asami's sight more than once, only to reappear with smug flourish just as she started scanning for him in alarm. She signaled warnings at him, which he brushed off with a casual nod. He had overestimated his stamina. Barely halfway through the route, he signaled that he was running out of energy. He wanted to cut across, surface early, and told Asami to continue on and meet the others at the rendezvous. Asami refused, but in the next instant, he had vanished again. Left with no choice, she continued alone, following the planned route back.

She swam on a few meters, the blue-green world stretching into infinity. Aside from the darting fish and the slow sway of the reef, there was nothing but an unsettling sense of being abandoned in endless space. Her own breathing sounded louder, sharper in her ears. She glanced around, the reefs, the sand, the coral formations were familiar. Mako had led her on this path many times. Slowly, she calmed her breath and pressed forward.

A sudden current brushed against her wetsuit, tugging her body sideways. She adjusted, keeping close to the reef wall to reduce its pull. That was when a stone broke free, tumbling past her mask before sinking out of sight.

Then came the collapse.

A much larger section of reef gave way with a dull, underwater roar. Asami recoiled instinctively, narrowly avoiding the falling rubble. But the worst came when the rocks hit the seabed, sediment exploded upward, spreading fast through the water like smoke. Within moments, the ocean around her was nothing but swirling darkness. Her visibility dropped to zero.

She held out her hand in front of her—nothing. Even her own fingers, even the compass strapped to her wrist, had vanished into the murk. Panic surged through her like a riptide, stripping away reason. She kicked hard, desperate to rise.

Stay calm. Don ' t ascend too fast. Follow the plan.

Asami clung to the echo of Mako's voice in her head. But it wasn't enough. Her fin struck something solid—rock, maybe coral—and she recoiled at once, terrified another collapse would follow. Every breath seemed to drain the tank faster, the hiss of compressed air a cruel reminder of her dwindling time.

At last, the cloud of sediment began to thin, dissolving into the sea. Shapes slowly emerged around her. But instead of relief, dread clamped tighter around her chest. This wasn't where she had been before the reef gave way. The light here was dimmer, the water darker. The blue had deepened into a heavy, suffocating ink. Her stomach dropped. She must have sunk deeper, too deep. The ocean was swallowing her whole. 

Pressure pressed harder against her skull, and her eardrums ached with a sharp, needling pain. She fumbled to pinch her nose and equalize, but the effort only heightened her panic, squeezing her heart in an iron grip.

And then she saw her—the woman who had died in the accident three years ago. Asami had seen the couple's photo during her research and remembered their faces clearly. Now the woman was right in front of her: thrashing wildly, the regulator slipping from her mouth as a stream of bubbles poured out, eyes wide with desperate terror, scanning the water for someone—surely her husband—pleading silently for rescue.

But even as Korra swam toward her, the woman pushed her away again and again.

She should have trusted Korra, Asami thought. If only she had known how skilled a diver Korra truly was. If only Korra were here now.

The woman's figure swayed in the water, sometimes clear, sometimes blurred. Asami knew it was only a phantom, neither the woman nor Korra was truly there. When the woman's shadow vanished, Korra did not. But Korra looked utterly unreal—still wearing her dive mask, yet dressed in a tank top and shorts. The hallucination intensified, Asami thought, until her hand was firmly grasped. That touch—so solid, so unmistakable—was enough to steady Asami's trembling heart.

---

 

Korra had to spend an entire week confined to the hospital, carried into the hyperbaric chamber every single day for treatment. Even something as simple as turning over in bed was torture.

But, fortunately, Asami was there.

With painstaking care, Asami helped Korra roll onto her side so the nurse could change the pad beneath her, then gently turned her back and adjusted her into the most comfortable position possible.

Korra cried out in pain, loud and unrestrained. She never wanted others to worry too much about her. Around her parents and friends, she always forced herself to stay composed—"I'm fine," she would insist, even when she wasn't. But with Asami, there was no point pretending. Asami worried about more than her body; she worried about the stubborn pride that kept her from showing weakness. So Korra allowed herself to scream, to let the pain have a voice.

Asami wiped the sweat from Korra's brow and said softly, "You nearly ended your diving career for good."

"If I hadn't met you, my diving career would've ended long ago," Korra answered with a faint smile.

"You know that's not what I mean. It's not just about diving. You could be left with permanent damage—maybe even..."

"I didn't have time to think about that."

And it was true—Korra hadn't had time to think.

That day, she had gone with Asami on the boat out to the dive site. Ever since her fear of being on a boat had begun to ease, she had suggested accompanying Asami. To be honest, watching Asami grow more skilled with every dive stirred something restless inside her. For the first time in three years, Korra wanted it again—wanted to dive, wanted to be beside her.

Just days earlier, she'd tried submerging in a pool, only to have the panic slam into her like a wave. She'd nearly drowned in shallow, chlorinated water. The humiliation burned.

But that morning, the sea was calm, the sun sharp on the waves. A perfect diving day. On board were Asami's four-person team of certified divers, and Mako, leading two tourists on an introductory dive. According to the plan, Asami's group would descend first, then Mako's. Korra stayed on deck, making idle conversation with the crew.

Varrick, the wealthy businessman, returned far earlier than scheduled, and alone. He told Korra he was tired and came back early, that the others would finish their dive as planned. Korra bristled with anger. Going off alone underwater was an absolute violation of safety protocol. But seeing as Varrick had made it back unharmed, and given that she wasn't an instructor or even staff at the dive center, she swallowed her fury.

But when the other two divers finally surfaced, Asami was still nowhere in sight.

Korra's chest clenched with sudden panic.

"Didn't you say Asami went with the other two?" she snapped at Varrick.

"I told her to meet them at the rendezvous point," Varrick replied.

"We waited there for a while," the two divers added, "but we didn't see either of them. We thought maybe they'd already gone up ahead of us, so..."

"You left her there alone?!" Korra grabbed Varrick by the collar, shaking with fury. "What the hell kind of diver are you?!"

"I—I..." Varrick stammered, trying to explain, but Korra didn't want to hear a word.

"Fuck off!" she spat, shoving him away so hard he fell back onto the deck.

Mako, the only instructor onboard, was still underwater with his tourists, and Asami had already been down far too long. In panic, oxygen drained quickly—Korra knew that. She couldn't wait any longer.

She snatched up a dive mask and a set of weights, striding toward the edge of the boat. She stared at the rolling waves, the surface rippling like a hungry maw, eager to swallow her whole. Taking a deep breath, she hurled herself into the water.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" someone shouted after her.

But the moment she plunged into the sea, the world above fell silent. Three years later, the ocean swallowed her once more. As the icy water wrapped around her with that all-too-familiar terror, her body instinctively fought back—struggling, craving air, desperate to break free from the sea's grip.

Move. Don ' t think—move.

She forced her arms to cut through the water harder, driving herself downward. Light bled away inch by inch; her vision dimmed as oxygen-starved lungs screamed. Carbon dioxide surged through her, the familiar burn twisting into a raw, gnawing ache that made her chest feel as if it were splitting apart.

She's still here. Asami  tapped her lightly on the chest.

Yes. She is here. Hold on, Asami.

The dive route along the reef was a familiar one—routine, a line Korra had led tourists along hundreds of times. Even after all these years, she still knew its twists and turns by heart. But time changes the sea's face. There—a collapsed section of reef. She paused just long enough to study it. The break was fresh. Which meant Asami might have been caught in the fall.

Korra trusted her. Asami's skills were solid; on her own, she could have finished this dive easily, unless something had gone wrong.

So... Where would she be now?

Korra's thoughts began to splinter, memories stabbing through her mind: the child she once was, her parents, Kuvira, mistakes she had made in the past. A thousand fleeting images, all sharp as shards of glass, threatened to pull her under as surely as the water around her.

No. Not now. Get out of my head.

Her body couldn't hold much longer. Not one second could be wasted. She shut her eyes, then snapped them open again, locking on the darker waters ahead, down and to the left. The current could have carried Asami there. Korra kicked hard, muscles screaming, and forced herself into the depths.

And then—there.

Asami. Eyes blown wide with raw fear, limbs flailing without rhythm, just like her. Just like that woman, the one Korra had failed. The past and present blurred, crushing together.

She had to save her. Just like before. She reached out—dreading the shove, the rejection, the failure. For a heartbeat she faltered, then seized Asami's hand in an iron grip and refused to let go.

But Asami didn't fight her. Their eyes met, and in that instant, the despair drained from Asami's face.

Korra checked her quickly, the regulator was still in her mouth, but the gauge was empty. No air left. Instinct surged through Korra—she reached for her octopus regulator, ready to swap it in. But she had no tank, no gear. Nothing but a mask.

Asami's gaze softened, her consciousness slipping further and further away. A cold panic tore through Korra, threatening to drown her more completely than the sea itself. Forcing herself to think, she yanked Asami's beeper and slammed the button. The sharp pulse cut through the water, carrying outward. If the dive plan held, Mako would already be back on the boat—he'd realize something had gone wrong with Asami. He'd come for them. He had to. Korra clung to that hope.

But there was no waiting. Asami needed to rise. Now. Korra jammed her thumb against the inflator on Asami's BCD, but her vision blurred, the edges closing in. Dizziness tore through her skull, her fingers numb, unresponsive, as if they no longer belonged to her.

Then—movement. A figure cutting swiftly through the water toward her. Korra's eyes flared with desperate light. Mako? Whoever it was—someone had heard.

Only when the figure reached them did she finally see it was Mako. Korra gestured at Asami, showing him her condition. He nodded sharply, no hesitation, and thrust his spare regulator into Asami's mouth. The moment air filled her lungs, Asami's chest heaved violently. Her consciousness jerked back. Her eyes darted wildly, searching, questioning if this world around her was real. At last, they locked on Korra—on Korra in nothing but her tank top—full of shock and fear.

Korra flashed the OK sign, then thumbed upward: time to ascend. She dropped her weight belt, pulled Asami's arm over her own shoulder. On the other side, Mako braced her other arm, then hit the inflator on her BCD. Together, the three of them began their rapid ascent.

Colors swirled in Korra's fading vision—blurred like broken glass, twisting, shifting. She saw the sunset she once shared with Asami. She saw the road where they tore down on her motorcycle, laughter in the wind. She felt again the press of Asami's lips, the wild hammer of her heart. She shook her head, as if that might hold her together, and clamped down on Asami's arm. Her legs kicked on sheer instinct, driving them upward.

She never remembered breaking the surface. Never remembered the scramble onto the deck. Only the collapse—the way her body hit the planks like a stranded fish. Air tore into her lungs in hoarse, ragged gasps. Coughs wracked her, brine and blood burning her throat. Then the pain struck. A searing, explosive agony ripping from her shoulders, her elbows, her knees—like fire bursting from inside her joints. Korra folded in on herself, writhing, curled tight against the deck.

---

 

That day, what carved itself into Asami's memory alongside fear was the moment she saw Korra appear. In that vast, merciless ocean, Korra had found her—precisely, impossibly. To Asami, it was nothing short of a miracle. Korra herself was a miracle.

When Asami's head finally broke the surface, the world flooded back with color. The boat was already racing toward them; someone tossed a lifebuoy, hauling them aboard. Asami tore the regulator from her mouth and gulped at the fresher air like she'd never breathed before. The next instant—thud. Korra collapsed hard onto the deck.

"Korra!" Asami's hoarse cry tore from her throat. She stumbled forward, dropping to her knees beside her. The only answer was Korra's ragged, pain-filled groans. Her body curled in on itself, trembling violently, lips drained of color, her skin shockingly cold beneath Asami's touch.

Someone threw a blanket over her, swaddling her trembling frame.

"Turn back, now!" Mako bellowed toward the cabin. "She's in bad shape!"

By the time they reached the docks, paramedics were already waiting. Both Asami and Korra were rushed into the ambulance. Asami herself wasn't well—exhaustion, dizziness, every limb aching. Doctors insisted on further tests.

Only later did she learn how close Korra had come to dying. Six minutes, twenty-two seconds—that was how long she had stayed underwater, with nothing but lungs and will. Each second beyond human limits was a step on the knife's edge.

The entire afternoon, dread gnawed at Asami's chest. She wanted nothing more than to see Korra again, or to hear someone say she was alive. At last, she was cleared to leave and hurried straight to Korra's room.

Korra lay asleep on the hospital bed, breathing evenly, while Tonraq and Senna—pale and frail in her wheelchair—kept watch at her side.

Asami's eyes lingered on Korra's face before she dared to speak. "How is she?"she asked softly.

"She's resting," Tonraq said, "They gave her painkillers. It's decompression sickness, combined with prolonged hypoxia. But—" he drew in a slow breath, "she was lucky. No neurological damage. No permanent injury."

Asami's lips trembled. "I'm so sorry..."

"This isn't yours to carry, dear."Senna reached out, taking Asami's hand with quiet warmth. "Korra made her own choice."

"But she shouldn't have had to—" Asami's voice broke,"She went down there with nothing. She risked everything because of me."

"You don't understand." Tonraq said, "For years, she's lived in fear of the water that once defined her. That fear held her down, made her believe she was broken. Today, she proved to herself she isn't."

"You were the reason she could face it again." Senna added.

"She found me," she whispered. She carefully took Korra's hand in both of hers. "She appeared out of nowhere—like a miracle. Like a hero."

"We're proud of her," Tonraq said.

Tonraq and Senna lingered a while longer, but eventually had to leave—Senna's evening treatment couldn't wait.

Tonraq bent closer to Asami. "Stay with her tonight. She'll need someone when she wakes."

At Asami's firm nod, he wheeled Senna out of the room, leaving Asami alone at Korra's.

Korra woke in pain. The relief of the medication had slipped away far too soon, leaving her body burning and tearing from the inside.In the dim light, her eyes found Asami, curled up on the narrow bed beside hers, lost in an exhausted sleep. And in that moment, the agony didn't matter. She bit down on the groan rising in her throat, forcing herself into silence.

Asami was safe. They were both safe. At least, still alive.

Even so, Asami stirred at the faintest rustle. No matter how carefully Korra tried to quiet herself, no matter how heavy her exhaustion, Asami's eyelids lifted slowly. Catching Korra's gaze, she pushed herself upright in an instant.

"How do you feel?" she whispered.

"Like bubbles in my blood and joints are ripping me apart," Korra admitted honestly. "It feels... awful."

"You're insane. You—" The words tangled in Asami's throat, breaking.

"I know. Down there, I thought I was done for," Korra said with a crooked smile.

"I'm just a tourist," Asami murmured.

"A tourist who flirted with me. And kissed me," Korra teased.

"You know flings happen all the time. Single people. Vacations. It doesn't have to mean—"

"But you're not just that."

Silence stretched. Asami's eyes lingered on her face, unblinking. "I love you," she said at last.

"I love you too." Korra's lashes fluttered. Then, with a faint, wry curve of her lips, she added, "My lips are so dry."

"You're not asking for water, are you?"

"You know what I need."

Asami tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaned down, and pressed her lips gently to Korra's parched ones. Tears slid down her cheeks, tasting salty and bitter—like the sea itself.

 

Asami's vacation had come to an end.

Once again, she boarded the same cruise ship that had carried her to the island months ago. The chatter of tourists still filled the air, children still cheered for every crashing wave. But the island itself drifted farther and farther away, shrinking until it finally disappeared beyond the horizon. A pang of wistfulness rose in Asami's chest, mingling with a strange sense of unreality. It almost felt as if the past two months had been nothing more than a dream—perhaps she had simply fallen asleep on the ship, only to wake and find the island drawing near.

But no. The irritation, the moments of calm, the heart-pounding fear, the tenderness—every single one of them had been real.

"What's on your mind?" Korra asked beside her.

Asami turned, leaning against the railing, eyes lingering on her companion. "I was just thinking... maybe when I first set foot on that island, I should've treated you a little nicer."

"At the time," Korra deadpanned, "all I wanted was your money."

Asami's lips curved. "Smooth-talking little hustler."

Korra slid a hand into her pocket and pulled out a small trinket—a little blue whale charm—holding it up in front of Asami.

"Step right up, miss! Handmade, one-of-a-kind. Care to browse?"

"Handmade?" Asami arched an eyebrow, taking the charm into her hands. She brushed her thumb across the uneven ridges. "Hmm. The whale is adorable, but the craftsmanship is a little rough."

"I thought I'd have a whole week to finish it," Korra admitted. "But, well, you know where I ended up spending my time. I only managed to finish it last night, after staying up late."

"I like this little whale," Asami said, smiling faintly. "So, how much are you charging me?"

"Uh..." Korra hesitated. Before she could answer, a crew member's voice blared over the loudspeaker in their direction:

"Attention! Unauthorized selling of souvenirs is strictly prohibited onboard! Repeat: strictly prohibited!"

They both burst into laughter.

"In that case," Korra declared with mock formality, "this is your complimentary gift, Miss Sato. Thank you for visiting Duskreef Island. Please come again."

"Thank you," Asami replied softly, fastening the blue whale to her handbag.

The ship docked after an hour and a half. Korra accompanied Asami to the airport, but that was as far as she could go. She couldn't leave with her yet. Though discharged from the hospital, her body wasn't ready for long travel. And before she could truly begin a new chapter, there were things she still had to face—unfinished work, old wounds, and, eventually, the test that would let her earn back her diving license.

At the security gate, Korra handed over Asami's suitcase. But when Asami reached out, she didn't take the handle. Instead, she took Korra's hand, stepping closer, their eyes locking. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Korra's lips—a farewell.

"I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the world," she whispered, fingers tightening on the handle. She turned, ready to go—but Korra's strong hands pulled her back.

Cupping Asami's face, Korra kissed her again—deeper, longer, greedier—until they broke apart, breathless, foreheads pressed together.

"I'll miss you," Korra murmured.

"Then come find me soon. Promise?"

"I promise."

Asami stole a quick glance at her watch. "I really have to go." She slipped from Korra's arms, pulling an envelope from her bag and sliding it into Korra's hand before stepping into the line.

Korra waved as she walked away. Just before she disappeared, Asami turned back one last time.

"Don't forget to call!"

"Every day!" Korra shouted after her, her voice carrying above the crowd.

Only when Asami was gone did Korra open the envelope. Inside was a check. Days earlier, Varrick had handed both of them a sum in compensation. Asami had offered her share to Korra, but Korra had refused. Now here it was anyway—Asami's portion, transferred into her hands. On the note line: This is yours.

There was something else, too. A photo. The two of them, caught from behind as they sat on the bench by the sea, leaning together in a kiss, framed by the lighthouse and the setting sun. Korra had never seen it before. Judging by the angle, it must've been Bolin's work.

Korra flipped it over. On the back was an address—detailed, far away, across the globe. Below it, Asami had written:

" Waiting to dance with you beneath the sea, my dearest diver. "

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Under the Surface