Too Late
It has been three years.
And Mako remembers everything as if it were yesterday.
He was running in the heavy rain, running to the passageway that was their home. He was bringing an armload of great food you can ever imagine – pizza, fries, chicken, meat, fresh bread and water. The Triple Threat Triad had a steal of a lifetime and they were celebrating. Instead of staying there and getting drunk like the others, he salvaged some of the food before other men could have it so that he could give it to his little brother, Bolin.
Both of them had not eaten for five days straight.
The last time Mako and Bolin had eaten, they shared a moldy piece of bread as small as his fist that he rummaged from a trash can. They had no parents to ask for food from, for they were mugged and murdered in front of Mako when he was just eight.
Bolin was the only family he has left, and he would do everything to survive and protect him. He was the reason that Mako held on to a sense of morality, for he wanted to set a good example to his brother like his father did to him. He was the reason that Mako refused to do anything outright illegal, limiting himself to just doing numbers for the Triple Threats.
And now, Bolin was sick, and dying of fever and starvation.
He was running out of strength that he needs to get from food – food that he would rather give to Bolin. His feet were sore and callous, because he did not have shoes. Whatever money Mako had earned he would buy food for his brother and himself. To buy even a secondhand pair of slippers would mean having no food for one month or so. The same reason explains why Mako did not care to buy an umbrella. He was drenched to the toe; even the food was soaked, too.
But Mako feels neither pain nor cold nor exhaustion, as he was fueled with the knowledge that Bolin is waiting patiently for him. He needed to get there as fast as he could; a second of delay is a second taken away from Bolin's life.
Mako was almost there, narrowly avoiding an old lady that he stole a purse from. He was glad that she did not recognize him.
And finally he had made it.
Bolin was lying on the ground beside a trashcan, apparently asleep.
"Bo! Good news! I have food!" Mako yelled excitedly to his little brother.
Bolin did not respond.
"Bo?"
Mako put the food aside and checked on his little brother, putting a hand on his forehead.
Bolin's fever is gone.
"Bolin?"
He supported his brother in his arms and had a terrible realization: Bolin was no longer breathing.
He came too late.
"NOOOOOOO!"
Mako screamed to the dark gray sky.
That moment, his already broken world fell even further apart.
It has been three years since.
Now, Mako is alone, in his warm and comfortable office, wearing fine clothes, a piece of bread on a plate on his table. Lightning Bolt Zolt had promoted him, making him his right-hand man. He is currently earning a salary that would make lawyers, doctors, and managers green with envy. However, he hated himself for enjoying these luxuries of life while his little brother never lived long enough to experience being uplifted from life on the streets. He loathed himself even for breathing without him. He had abandoned all sense of morality since Death mercilessly snatched Bolin away from him. Now that the only family he has left is gone, he had no more reason to live.
Mako took the plate holding the bread and hurled it to the wall, grieving, tears freely falling from his eyes as he remembered Bolin's innocent green eyes that he inherited from their mother, his messy curly hair, his scrawny body that he used to cuddle with during cold nights. He remembered all the times they shared meager food together, the scams they made together, and the moment that he told Bolin, "Life is hard. You either hustle or get hustled."
Life is even harder without him.
There was a knock on the door.
Mako quickly wiped his tears with his tattered red scarf, the scarf that belonged to his father, the scarf that had always kept him safe through all these years. Mako wondered if Bolin had already seen his parents in the other world.
"Come in," he ordered.
Kaito, one of his underlings rushed into the room. He looked like a beetle-mouse chewed on by a cat-owl.
"What's the matter?" Mako asked sternly.
"Boss! Three of our members got beaten by the Avatar and arrested by the police! And-"
"Wait a minute. Did you say 'Avatar'?"
"Yes boss! The Avatar has arrived in the city!"
Mako was surprised. The Avatar, the supposedly most important political and spiritual figure in the whole world, is finally here in Republic City.
Kaito remained terrified at the news. Mako turned on his radio on the table.
"Does this mean you've moved to Republic City?"
"Were you trying to send a message to the triads yesterday?"
"Will you be fighting crime with Chief Beifong and the police?"
"Yes, I'm definitely here to stay…"
Mako paid attention. So this is the Avatar: a female as heard from the radio. She was more or less a year younger than him since it has been seventeen years since Avatar Aang had passed and reincarnated.
"… But honestly, I… I don't exactly have a plan yet," she was saying apologetically, "See I'm still in training. But… look. All I know is that Avatar Aang meant for this city to be the center of peace and balance in the world, and I believe we can make this dream a reality. I look forward to serving you! I'm so happy to be here! Thank you, Republic City!"
Mako turned off the radio hastily.
"So the Avatar has finally arrived in Republic City…" he muttered. Kaito stared at him, wondering what he would do now.
"Now we've got a bigger pest to deal with," Mako continued, looking at Kaito.
