AUTHOR'S NOTE, PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE:
I have revised Chapters 2-4 to have a darker premise, because the fluff wandered away from my original intent, which is to display the capacity of human cruelty. If this will upset your tastes, please feel free to stop reading this. Thank you.
1- sorry
Noatak, as it happens, is a modestly popular name, due to the romantication and later domestication of the Equalist movement, the current model a genteel party of tree huggers and activists. With a members' list of popular celebrities and nonbending, pioneers of science, it is trendy to be an Equalist, or even a sympathizer who happens to be a bender. The name no longer carries a badge of violence; to be an Equalist means supporting medicinal marvels outside of bending, of glorious technology, of color television screens created by nonbenders. It has escalated to a point where to be a nonbender in society gives you the assumed standing of someone more innovative, more bright- without bending as a crutch, it forces the mind to burn brighter.
Avatar Korra hates it. She loathes this brave new world filled with little boys and clever men named after her torturer, and every time she meets one, often a bratty child who considers benders like dumb work mules, she wants to shout out all his crimes, including the one she never named. But she is the Avatar, and the Avatar has duties.
Asami counsels her and has spent years teaching her elaborate hairstyles and polished speech. Time has tamed her, no longer the brash teenage girl with little knowledge of politics or charm. She smiles. She performs. She can even dance; the masses love it when she waltzes on air with a lucky man in tow, dress billowing beneath her. It is a cheap parlor trick, but it drives the audience wild. And all that time, Asami makes her remember.
"Not all publicity is good publicity." Tip one. "You can still lie, if you lie by omission." Tip two.
She remembers the pale elegance of her friend, lips curling in dead solemnity as she repeated this advice like a prayer, or a curse.
"But most of all, don't get caught."
"Doing what?" Korra asked back then.
"You'll know whenever you do it. Every time."
Sound words. Asami is sweet like dessert wine, but sharp as a knife in business transactions, a result of unearthing Future Industries from the graveyard of her father's mistakes. She passes the knowledge of fairness and unfairness, as well as looking fair even when you're not, onto Korra. Some of the lessons stick, much like their friendship, the only thing that weathered the times. Bolin flew in an entirely different direction- humanitarian work towards more rural Earth Kingdom areas. Mako was off... somewhere. As for Tenzin, all his claims of his pride and love fall to the look of disappointment in his face when Korra is too curt, or too blunt, or not traditional enough.
"You have to make bending popular again," he told her as buildings rose, as roads are paved, as open heart surgery saves a life instead of waterbending.
"The Avatar has been reduced to a washed out celebrity who comes to charity events and smiles a lot, Tenzin. It's fine. It's a peaceful world. A world with no need of bending. I would rather have that world."
He has stopped since then. He does call her on her cellular to greet her a happy birthday ("you're thirty-five, I can't believe it") right as she enters a history quiz show as a guest judge for college students, displayed on the television. The topic at hand is the Equalist movement. Three eager late teens to twenty-somethings answer questions about Amon, about bloodbending, about Tarrlok's reveal as Amon's brother. Korra stifles her urge to cringe at the ghosts in her mind as she focuses on the young man with the highest score. He's wearing his hair like she used to when she was younger, and happens to be named Noatak, feeble smile and bird thin wrists apparent even through two layers of sweaters. He wears his face like a hiding victim with no desire to be seen, let alone found. They meet eyes.
Noatak is all terror and no spirit and his mouth gapes open as he is declared the winner, the prize being ten grand (not very much due to inflation) and a dinner date with the Avatar (not very much even though she is the Avatar). When she rises to shake his hand, it is trembling. He stares resolutely at the ground.
"It's an honor," he stammers, avoiding her general gaze and looking towards the audience. "In a world so concrete and explainable, the Avatar is the closest way for anyone to get to heaven or something outside of the ordinary. Bending has never been explained off by science, and I don't think it can ever be. That's why it's still worth keeping."
Heaven. Heaven? Was that one of those new loaded religion words? She smiles at what she construes as flattery, and pats him on the back.
His knees shake. She takes note.
"Where would you like to have dinner with the Avatar?" they asked him, suggesting a network sponsored list of eateries. Noatak laughs, an empty sound.
"At her house. Hey, she's the Avatar, there's literally nothing I can do to hurt her, right?"
Cautious murmurs and clapping from the audience. Korra smiles. Poor boy.
"I'd be glad to, Noatak. I'm not a very good cook though, just warning you."
Is he nervous? Is he shy? Korra never dealt with shy people. She whisks him away to the exit stage prematurely, away from the way from the crowd and stares, and feels how his hands are flies attempting to escape.
"What's wrong? You can tell me."
Noatak sobs. He sobs and shows no sign of stopping, but they are far away and she ran fast, he's safe, he's fine, nobody will say anything, nobody will see.
"He... raped you. I... raped you. And I can't make it up to you I can't I can't I-"
The voice is different, lighter and weaker, but it is also the same. Korra recoils, disgusted.
"You remember everything, don't you."
"Yes."
His words are frail. Korra scowls and slaps him in the face, the mark enough to bruise. Tenzin mentioned that there is history of people reincarnating outside of the Avatar, of memories intact and pristine. Her pity transforms into horror, solid form and slim man- barely a man.
Only a boy.
Her heart is hard, regardless.
He wipes his tears. "I... I want to make it up to you. Whatever it takes. Amon won't make it up to you, so I feel accountable. Please, let me."
The thought of concrete vengeance buries itself in her heart, tempting evil and cruelty.
"Come to the dinner date. Bring no one."
He nods, and by the time the press catch up to them he is dry eyes and muted face, saying with strange convincingness of his excitement to be in the company of the Avatar for a few precious hours. Korra questions the possibilities. Is he a nonbender this round? Is he sincere? Does he still want to kill her?
Noatak is Amon's height but most likely only a little over half his weight. In her territory, she has the distinct advantage of knowing exactly what to use should he attempt to overpower her.
"What's the bruise, Noatak?" a man with a camera asks.
"I fell. I'm really clumsy!"
The oncoming small talk fills her stomach with bile and she leaves early. Her mind is already filling up the various ways to torture without killing. It is a dangerous feeling, a consuming feeling.
She can't bring herself to care.
