They had been two years short of a golden anniversary; she departed from him first, her spirit passing on to a young man in the Earth Kingdom, ready to start anew.
He was left behind.
Fifty years changed many things in Republic City. Mako could still remember the street names, though the flagstone alleys had long been paved over with dark asphalt. Cobblestone sidewalks were instead made of cement; tall buildings had been replaced by even taller skyscrapers to eclipse the sun. The old man sometimes felt lost, but he knew deep down the streets would never change.
Some things would remain constant until the end of time; Korra's spirit moving on to take on a new identity, the arrogant young firebenders treating their abilities as a special trick in the streets with their friends.
Mako's hands shook too much these days for him to bend more than a few simple sparks; with his constantly more and more powerful disease, it became exponentially more dangerous for him to try to bend fire like the young children showing off in the corners between tall brick buildings. Today, Mako was headed to the grocery store; he needed to pick up dried sea prunes and granola for his morning breakfast. At least these new sidewalks didn't catch his redwood cane in the grout between them; had they been as they were fifty years before, Mako supposed he'd trip frequently with his instable walking patterns.
As he pushed open the glass door to the corner market snuggled in under a gigantic skyscraper, a bell rung notifying the employees that the door had been opened. He sighed, noticing that the only Satocart the store possessed was taken, the charger left lazily on the floor by the outlet it called home. "You youngins should truly invest in more electric carts," Mako grumbled to a bag boy as he took one of the baskets.
Korra had been the one with the strength; his disease had been progressing for a few years now, starting with a slight, uncontrollable twitch in his thumb when Mako was in his late sixties. He sometimes cursed her for leaving him when she was the healthy one; a single run-in with pneumonia was enough. Mako had always wished she'd take a break, not visit the poles too often… But Korra was defiant, even in her seventies. She truly believed her people needed her.
As Mako struggled with keeping the basket steady, he inspected a shelf with different brands of dried sea prunes. Some were store brands, some were more expensive than others. "They're all prunes," the old man grumbled to the containers, turning one of the bags around on the shelf to inspect the nutrition facts. Pulling his eyeglasses off his collar, he squinted through the lenses for a closer look.
In a distant aisle, Mako swore he heard a familiar giggle between the beeps of a horn. He looked up from the dietary fiber content to see a rushing Satocart speed through a major passage between the aisles, going much faster than the electric shopping carts were supposed to go. He shook his head and returned to the prune package to check the carbohydrate content with a disgruntled sigh. Of course, some young person would abuse the store's courtesy set aside for the elderly, he assumed silently, placing the package of sea prunes back on the shelf. Mako placed the cheaper store brand in his basket instead, and turned to walk down the aisle towards the granola as he heard a beeping sound, signifying the electric shopping cart was being put in reverse.
Before he could turn to look, Mako felt a sharp pain in his posterior; a cheerful old woman was driving the Satocart, and had been so distracted by dried sea prunes, she neglected to notice the old man with the cane slowly progressing down the aisle before her. As she picked up the same name brand Mako had been inspecting, the elderly woman noticed that there was someone she had rear-ended with the electric shopping cart.
"O-oh dear!" She exclaimed. "I'm terribly sorry, young man. I didn't even see you there. You're not hurt, are you?" With a quick jam of her foot, she turned back up to Mako. "These conflab brakes—I swear, I designed these, and I can't even work the darn things perfectly."
Mako raised his wild, grey eyebrows in a sudden epiphany, nearly dropping his basket. "Yuh—Asami? Asami Sato? Is that you?"
"Sure is!" Asami smiled cheerfully, then opened her eyes widely. "Now, my question is—who are you?"
His heart sinking into his chest, Mako looked Asami over—her legs didn't seem to be in good shape, she was petite and frail… but undoubtedly still Asami. He hadn't seen her in almost forty years, but he could still remember her. "It's me, Mako," he stated slowly. "How have you been, Asami?"
"Fantastic!" Asami beamed. "As independent as ever, if I do say so myself," she grinned, raising her still bare left hand, then looked to the old man before her curiously. "And… Mako? You sure don't look like him. The Mako I knew was about… Eh, fifty years younger?"
Fluffing his scarf and checking his thin hair, Mako tried to remind himself who he was. "I'm pretty sure I'm that same Mako, Asami."
"Where's Korra?" She questioned him from the Satocart, placing the bag of dried prunes in the basket at the front of the machine. "You two used to be glued together."
Mako grew silent. Surely, Asami would've heard—He knew she always read the paper in the mornings, or at least she used to. Perhaps Asami was slowly losing her memories of the past, not recalling who people were or what had happened to them over time. "…She's gone, Asami," he shook his head. "I thought you would've heard."
"I'm still not even sure you're Mako," Asami chuckled kindly, somewhat dismissing Mako's pain. "But I'll believe you for now… Do you know where I can find canned lychee juice? That's the next thing on my grocery list."
Mako nodded, and started to walk to an aisle on the far side of the store. "They're over this way."