Chapter 1: Story

-for all those who feel the same-

By the way, this is a one-shot, next chapter is just a authors note

Who I am... Both?

She'd never really felt like a real girl, you know. She wasn't one of those snazzy girls crushing on pink and dresses, playing with their barbies, and ending up with painted faces and too short of a skirt.

She wasn't even the kind of sporty babe, in tight leather clothes, showing off their curves deliciously, with cool make-up, beautifully long hair, racing around on motorbikes.. but still feminine, although they never wore a single dress.

She couldn't even be like those normal girls, who weren't extravagant in one way or another, just wearing their tight jeans, sometimes a dress, with a little of make-up once in while. Laughing and chatting about normal stuff, like normal girls. Watching some sloppy romance in the theatre, and the next time an action mover, and why not some horror and comedy too? Just like girls do.

But she wasn't like that either.

Sometimes she wished she could just be some tom-boy, with their guy clothes, guy hoods, guy behaviour, short haircuts... because even that would be better, right? But she just wasn't anything like that, at least not anymore.

She knew of course that she had been there. The tomboy little girl, claiming she – no he – was a hero, a warrior and that he would crush all the dark spirits and bad guys under his rocks, swap them away with the ocean and burn them under blasts of flames...

He even had chosen a new, better, name: Kuruk.

As Kuruk he would be strong, as Kuruk he would destroy anyone would wiant to harm him or take him away. As Kuruk the Bald Guy, the Third-Eye-Psycopath, the Savage and the Armless Octopus would all squirm out of fear. Because Kuruk was strong, and dangerous and brave!

But still at some point Kuruk wasn't good anymore. He – no she – felt herself craving to hear the other name again, to hear it twinkle in her ears, and feel the sound all around her. Because she wasn't Kuruk, or better to say Kuruk wasn't her. As Kuruk she wasn't true.

-No, maybe Kuruk was just too dangerous, just too wild, just too agressif...-

She kept her boyish clothes, though. And burnt every dress, they thought smart to press in her hands. And she kept being the unbeatable warrior, the hero... all the time. Because she was strong! And she was brave! And she would destroy them all... right? But it still didn't feel right.

Eventually she would forget all about the other name, but the feeling persisted, even if the name was gone. It hadn't felt right when she was the other him, but she didn't feel right as Korra neither. She just... didn't know.

Becoming teenager was torture. All those changes happening everywhere, chest growing, voice becoming higher, her jaw more defined... it was all horrifying. And she didn't understand. There were so many women who barely had them and hated that, who actually wanted them.. but it was she who was cursed with chest growing totally out of place! She couldn't use that, she didn't want that... it wasn't pretty!

It wasn't her.

"Are you a boy?" was all Katara asked her that day, when she just couldn't bear it anymore, that she had to just tell someone – anyone!

But was she?

That night she sneaked into the men bathhouse. Naked boys, men, grandfathers all over the place. Some muscular, some rippled, all with that same thing dangling between their legs... did her dad really have that too?

"No, I'm not a boy." she told Katara the next day, and the older just smiled.

She wasn't a boy, sure, but then why hadn't she just said she was a girl, then? Why did that feel so wrong too?

She grew older, stronger, more confident (and stubborn) then ever... and slowly those feelings disappeared. Because it was her body! Didn't matter how gross it sometimes looked! And no stupid feeling would turn her against it! It was her body, and she didn't want anything else! Right?

Her clothing became more feminine, her hair finally grew, and she surprised herself by chatting with the older women about clothes and men, and hot guys... and whatever they could think about. But she knew it was still there, waiting for release.

It was Song who let it finally snap, the ice barrier built into her mind. One look at her, and she had been lost, so completely lost. Fire Nation, newly sailed over. In black pants, a red top, black short cool hot hair. And those eyes, deep red, like a burning volcano... anything but strength and power. And still feminine somehow. A complete kick-ass Tom-boy, and the most beautiful women she'd ever seen, at the same time. Showing off her body, with almost no chest, tanned arms, no rolling hips... like it was a precious treasure. Something to be proud off.

Something she wanted.

She was completely infatuated by the girl, and the way she moved and the way she fought... and she couldn't keep up with her, even her fire wasn't strong enough to be at least somehow as good as her. She admired the other. But she couldn't stop to wonder if she was in love with the girl... or if just was fascinated by that body she wanted to have herself.

And somehow she caught herself acting like before again. Like boy again, every time she was around her. But that wasn't right. She wasn't a boy. That didn't feel right. Right?

But still she was...somehow.

Tenzin would save her, her training would save her. Once the master would be there, she would have too much on her mind to keep wondering. She wouldn't have enough time for it. And Song would go home, tacking those haunting thoughts with her.

But Tenzin didn't stay. He didn't tell her that she wasn't ready to learn airbending yet, of course... but she knew that's what he thought. Tenzin left, and Song stayed. And she couldn't stand it anymore!

That night, she ran away. Fleeing from her feelings... from her, and probably from herself too. She needed space, she needed a place where nobody knew her... where she could be herself.

Whoever that could be.

Mako was the first guy she ever liked, who she wanted to hold in her arms, and kiss, and... it felt good, normal. Finally like a normal girl, and that was great, right? But of course he had to bring the other one. Prissy, snazzy, beautiful, rich... a real women. Not something as messed up as she was.

But it did work out, by some miracle, and they did end up together (she and Mako), and loved each other, so much... But then it happened, again. She could feel him stare that night at the gala, when she had put on a dress – or was forced to by Pema, and hated every second of it – and she could feel the question burning behind his gaze. "Why don't you ever dress like that when you're with me? You're so much more beautiful!"

And he did tell her how stunning she looked that night, around a hundred times. And every one of them disgusted her, because this thing he was complimenting, wasn't her.

And she started to dislike him... just because of that... just because he asked her to dress in a dress to their next date, and the following ones. His eyes devoured her, but she could just look away, trying to forget where she was, and what was hanging around her body.

When they broke up she burned them all, every one of the dresses she had forced herself to wear. Because she hadn't wanted to lose him to the other (the prissy rival), didn't matter how kind and loving, and a "soon to be best-friend" Asami could be.

And things were great again, because she could be herself again, that weird thing in between. Taking care of her appearance, of her clothing, not tom-boy, not girlish neither. A mix of both she guessed. And that felt somewhat right, whatever right could mean.

But then everything shifted again. She caught herself staring at the other – now her best friend – hips, on the curve of her waist, the movements of her fingers when sketching in her notebook. She caught herself longing to curl her finger in those soft lock, to hold the other close and never let go...And she felt the other coming back again.

She had thought she had lost him, but he had only been buried deep within, waiting. The other side, the warrior, the destructor, the one who could crush them all. And she feared it, the guy inside of her – because there couldn't be any doubt anymore that he was there, all the time – because she feared what she could become again. And she didn't want to lose this kind of balance she had found. This balance between the girl and the guy inside of her. The loving, happy, inspiring, curious, caring, strong and passionate Korra and the other one, the warrior, the merciless fighter, the one who she only let kick in when the danger was too high... who could kill if need was there... and who would protect the ones he cared about with his live, too.

Yin and Yang, they both had been there all those last years, since the breakup. Supporting and calming each others outbursts. In Balance? Or had the Yang just only been chained up?

Always. Even when she was at her lowest point, even when she wanted to die. The one side had kept her fighting (with outburst of frustration, trying to break free, every day), and the other had kept her caring, always.

But now, she was looking in those green orbs, hands intertwined, soft knee pressed against her tight. Lips slightly parted open, breathing against her own. Anticipating. And she could feel him look though her eyes, hungry, wanting, needing. And she could feel his thoughts wondering to the other next to her. So close.

And she felt those soft, deliciously red lips lean closer, almost touching her own. She could feel the heat building inside of her, she could feel how much she only wanted to drown herself in those curls, kiss and tease and... and she could feel him, ready to burst out of his chains.

"I-i Can't" She pulled away so fast, she almost didn't caught the hurt in the other's eyes, but she did see it, even if it was only for the second before she turned her back at her. "I can't." and walked out of the Spirit Portal, back into real world.

Because she knew that if she ever touched those lips, he might break free, he might take it over again... and she couldn't risk it. She couldn't, didn't want to risk to lose the women half within her -the okay half-.

"I'm sorry."