Korra trudges through an alleyway with her earth bender bag slung over her shoulder, and the small stack of cash crushed in her hand. She enters the slum bathroom to clean her wounds. She meets her own gaze in the broken mirror- her face has changed so much. Pulling water from the sink, she massages her arm with the faintly glowing water. She attempts to coax the healing spirit water to life but it flickers and falters. She feels the knot of frustration and tears in her throat and lashes down on the sink, smashing the porcelain. A yelp of pain escapes her. She never used to be this fragile.
Clutching her throbbing arm she stumbles out if the bathroom and wanders further into the alleyways. She finds a tight corner of a crumbling, graffitied brick wall. Bracing herself with one arm, she slides to the ground and sits with her head between her knees. She listens to the sound of her heart beating. It sounds so far away. She lifts her head and opens her bag to draw out a pen and a crumpled piece of paper. The paper is a collection of letters that she could never finish- each one had been scratched out and discarded. She started a fresh letter.
Dear friends.
I know that everything has gone wrong.
And I know it's my fault.
I'm tired of failing- I'm tired of failing you. But I know how to make things right, even if it's not me. Aang wouldn't have made the mistakes I've made- and the next avatar probably won't either. Promise me one thing- once I'm gone, find the new avatar and help guide them as you did in this life. You've given me the best support I could ask for- and this isn't your fault. It's mine. What I'm doing is best for everyone. This way I'll have a fresh start- and I promise I won't fail like korra has.
With trembling hands, she signed her name and folded the paper safely into her pocket. She slowly closed her eyes and tilted her head back. There was a chill in the air that gave her goosebumps. Or perhaps it wasn't the air at all. She felt the hotness of tears in her eyes as she slowly raised her arms and began spinning the air in front of her- slowly pulling air from her mouth and nose. The air slithered away and she felt her lungs clench. When there was no more air to draw she held fast, the air spinning before her, playing at her ragged locks of hair. The emptiness slowly set in- her lungs lurching and burning stronger with every second. Her chest heaved with agony, burning and clawing desperately for air, yet she remained composed with her eyes gently shut. She was determined not to fail again. Slowly the burning began to subside. Her lungs stopped screaming, and her heart slowed. Through closed eyes she felt a comforting darkness sweep over her, cradling her far away.
Suddenly her eyes shot open, glowing with a brilliant white light, and everything swarmed back again. The air, all of the pain, and the dark alleyway before her. Korra looked around as her eyes flickered and dimmed, shuddering with rasping painful breaths.
This time she couldn't control the tears, and didn't have it in her to bend them away. She rolled onto her side, trembling with sobs and pulled the note out of her pocket, angrily scratching out what she had written. She had failed again.