1892年3月13日

3 Large Asparagus-Pears

AT LEAST 15 raspberrynanas

12 ounces of basilweed

Later

Sorry, I was carrying this around in my bag and jotted down some shopping items. Hao offered me five asparagus-pears for the price of three. I ended up having to eat one of them on the train. Rolling fruit experimentally in your palm is, unfortunately, the easiest way to spoil it. So now my mouth has that grainy aftertaste I can't stand.

I have no idea how to cook in the northern style, and neither does Cook Muraki (as if he'd ever let that sake bottle detach itself from his lips) but hey, if I can steal myself away to write in a journal, then I can steal myself away to read a cookbook in the library chambers.

The other day I found a little book—as kid's book, about the spirits. It had the usual: the spirit of the sky, of the water, Wan Chi Tong, he who knows ten thousand things, the moon spirit, all of them. I noticed one semi-amusing thing, though: Kojin was listed as the fire spirit. I know Kojin is both the spirit of the kitchen and of the hearth, but it's been a long time since I heard any mention of Kojin being the spirit of fire. The last time someone told me Kojin is the fire spirit was that day I punched an ashy hole into the side of Mr. Fei's courtyard.

Every time I think of that day this horrible surge seems to rush up inside me, threatening to burst out from under my skin. It's like my bones want to free themselves from the confines of my flesh… No, I changed my mind. It's beyond bones. It's something else. It's in my blood. Sometimes it seems to burn holes into my lungs, and I sometimes take these shaky exhales and I swear to the spirits sparks fly off my tongue. That explains the burn marks on some of the pages in the book. Whatever. It doesn't matter.

I lied. I just had to sit in my closet and light tiny fires with my fingers oh spirits I hate myself I hate myself I'm a disgrace.

I've been thinking there's something odd going on in the palace since Long Feng got taken out. What would I know? I only send out the food. I've only ever seen the King in passing. Ha ha, maybe someone's plotting a coup. Something about that "war nobody's meant to know about" but somehow the entire staff is aware. I don't know, maybe I'm luckier than most staff. I doubt the maids get to leave the city to find rare Kiba root for the King's favorite sick soup. Oh, lucky me. I get to breach the walls but I haven't seen my family in nearly ten years.

I wonder what Natsuko looks like now. Is she pretty like Mother? Or ugly like me? It's funny, I looked at myself in the mirror in passing and thought I looked presentable but it was clearly a trick of the light because I looked back, properly, and my qipao was nearly totally open, my breasts tumbling out of the slit like apple-plants out of a basket. And my face was a mess. Ignoring the mess of soy sauce and Mirin that had somehow made it to my cheeks, making me look like a dark, blotchy-skinned demon, my pimples were in such large numbers they might as well have started a tea shop and invited in customers from the First Quarter. Ha-ha. Someday, when I'm far away from Ba Sing Se, I should go into comedy. In any case, I've always hoped that one day I piss off an earthbender enough that he hits me in the face with a rock so hard that at least I have an excuse to look this bad.

It's getting late. I should head to the kitchen. Maybe if it's empty enough I can go through that courtyard with the cypresses, it's such a nice day. The sun is just setting.

Later

This diary is all I have. I'm writing with a piece of charcoal. I don't know how I can explain what happened. I'm flying on a beast I've only heard about in stories. I'm with the Avatar. He may be dead. I'm cold. I'm alone. All for now.

AN: Here it is! I'm working on Chap 2 right now, maybe I can get it in tonight or even tomorrow morning. I hope you enjoy.