A/N: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender. Not Pikachu! Please don't sue!
Miracles
By Ultramatt17
Chapter 1
This is a story about miracles. When people think of miracles, they tend to imagine the works of holy men or tremendous events that defy explanation. Though these things do happen and can be classified as miracles, few realize that each of these momentous acts or occasions are merely the end result of a series of smaller events. The timely storm that sinks a hostile fleet starts with the flapping of the wings of a single butterfly. The true power of miracles, you see, is not in the outcome; it is in the journey.
Not everyone is blind to the chain of events that leads to great things. Many see them as mere coincidences, or perhaps lump them together with that wonderful term called "luck." Many of these same people marvel at the "luck" of others, though one player in our story refuses to even want "luck." They see the hardships in their life as the absence of something, but they are mistaken. What they suffer from is not a lack of miracles, but a failure to perceive the miracles that have led them to where they are and the ones leading them forward. They fail to grasp that—as another of our players once mused—perhaps things are the way they are meant to be.
The day was entirely too beautiful for Kazen to spend cooped up in the back of a wagon. Outside, the boy could hear the sounds of sparrowkeets chirping and singing, and the flaps of the wagon's canvas cover swayed with what was surely a cooling breeze. And yet, here he was, stuck in the stuffy confines of a Fire Nation supply wagon, trying to copy strange symbols with a brush and paper.
Placing his assignment aside for a moment, Kazen risked a peek outside. Poking his head through the leather flap, the boy took in a deep breath. There was indeed a gentle breeze going across the mountain pass, carrying the smells of the many flowers that were in bloom. Of course, the breeze also carried the smell of the two Komodo Rhinos that pulled the wagon, but theirs was a smell he had long since grown accustomed to.
With a contented sigh, the boy emerged fully from the wagon. Kazen was not a particularly handsome boy—at least not by his own measure—but nor was he ugly. If he were to be described in a single word, it would be "average." Kazen did not really mind the term; ten-year-olds rarely think of themselves as anything else. He was a thin boy, perhaps four and a half feet tall, with hazel eyes. His dark brown hair was drawn up into a traditional topknot, though the heat and humidity of the wagon had caused it to sag slightly.
"Kazen, what are you doing?" came a voice to the boy's left. He turned to see his father emerge from down the path, a stern look on his face. Much like his son, Zhen was average in almost every sense of the word. Aside from the prominent blade scar on his right cheek, he looked like any other Fire Nation laborer: ragged, yet strong.
"I'm just taking a break, Dad," Kazen replied nonchalantly.
"You've already taken two breaks today, and it's barely noon. Get back in there and finish your studies," Zhen reprimanded.
"But Dad," the boy whined, "it's way too hot in there. Besides, the wagon bounces around so much that it's hard to write."
Zhen seemed to think about that for a moment. "Alright, you can ride in the front. But only if you bring your work with you."
"Thanks, Dad!" the boy beamed. As he ducked inside the wagon to grab his things, it never occurred to him that this would be the last time he would see his father alive.
Kazen truly did not know what hit him. First, he felt the wagon begin to shake. Then came shouts of "Earthbenders!" from the soldiers outside. Before he could even process that much, he heard a crash, followed by the sensation of being flung from the wagon. As his eyes were forced to once again adjust to bright daylight, he got a wonderful view of the long and very steep slope rushing up to meet him.
Large miracles can be best appreciated when see the smaller ones that make them possible—even if those who live through them do not see them as miracles at all. The first miracle that befell young Kazen occurred just as the deadly attack was launched. High above the caravan, a group of a dozen earthbenders lay in wait. When their commander gave the order to attack, one soldier was late in launching his opening strike. Perhaps the soldier was nervous, or inexperienced, or perhaps he did not hear the order at first.
For whatever reason, that one soldier sent his salvo of rocks a half second later than his peers. One half of one second does not seem like much time, but as any marksman or athlete will attest, one half of one second can make all the difference. In this case, that slightest of delays saved Kazen's life. Instead of striking the front of the wagon, as the soldier had intended, that first boulder struck the wagon low and towards the rear. Instead of crushing the front, it lifted the rear skyward, sending it down the mountainside.
The second miracle occurred just seconds later as Kazen began his rather eventful trip down the mountainside. As the boy flailed about, his hand managed to grab hold of a small bush. Though the plant gave way almost immediately, it ultimately saved Kazen's life as well. When he grabbed the plant his momentum caused him to change course, sliding him just over a foot to his left. Had that plant not been there, or had he not gotten hold of it he almost certainly would have been struck by a rather large boulder that flew through the space he had just vacated.
The next miracle was not something that Kazen would likely have labeled as such. Nonetheless, it was a miracle, for it too prolonged his life. About halfway down the slope, as Kazen tumbled head over heels down the mountain, one of the boulders from the attack caught up with him. The boy never really saw what hit him this time, either. As Kazen began yet another rotation, he caught a flash of movement and instinctively brought up his arms to protect his head.
Though his right arm would pay a hefty price, it succeeded in its mission. The boulder—easily the size of the boy's torso—struck him in the right forearm. The bones in his arm snapped like twigs, but they had absorbed enough of the impact so that when the boulder followed through and struck the boy's head, it only knocked him out. This loss of consciousness was a blessing in disguise, for it forced his body to go limp. This had two effects. First, his body's newfound lack of resistance prevented many more possible fractures. More importantly, it prevented him from feeling the pain that was about to follow.
At the foot of the mountain Kazen met up with the wagon he had previously been riding—or rather, he met up with the contents of that wagon. The caravan had been made of several wagons, each bearing supplies for the new Fire Nation base of New Ozai. Mainly, the wagons had been bearing food and weapons. Kazen's wagon, however, had been one of three that had been carrying bedrolls and linen goods. So, instead of colliding with a spear or a broken sword, Kazen quite literally collided with a pile of pillows.
The bedrolls cushioned the boy enough to break his fall, but they would not be able to withstand the landslide that followed young Kazen. The remnants of the wagon, however, would make one last sacrifice for its former occupant. One large boulder collided with the wagon, obliterating it. The impact did adjust the boulder's course, so instead of landing on the boy's torso or skull, it merely landed on his outstretched left leg. Had the boy been conscious, he certainly would have cried out in agony as his femur was shattered. Fortunately, he never felt a thing.
Other boulders and rocks soon began to accumulate at the foot of the mountain, and in a matter of minutes, the boy was completely buried in dirt and small rocks. Again, this was a blessing in disguise. While he would be invisible to any passers-bye on the foothill path on which he now found himself, he was also invisible to the earthbenders that arrived after the fighting had ceased.
Under normal circumstances, these earthbenders would have meant rescue for the unconscious young boy. However, these soldiers were under the command of one General Cheng. As Kazen and General Cheng would eventually cross paths, it would be rather rude to say why he did not want to be rescued by General Cheng's men just yet. Suffice to know that it was very fortunate that the soldiers did not find him.
And so we see how a major miracle is born. Through a series of events—perhaps coincidence, perhaps luck, or perhaps destiny—a young boy survived a tremendous fall. Though he is alive, Kazen finds himself in a very precarious position: alone, wounded, partially buried alive and—though he does not know it—orphaned. Fortunately, whatever spirits allowed Kazen to survive his fall would not let him die here. The story of his rescue would be another miracle; one that would begin with the flapping of wings.