I know that this has probably been done before, but I wanted to write this out anyway, so here it is :).
First Korra fic! Yay!
I do not own The Legend of Korra.
Nightmare-ish thoughts lingered in the young boy's mind as he darted through the shadows of the dim-lit streets of Republic City. Cold, unfeeling rain poured down mercilessly, mixing with the salty tears that streamed down the 8-year-old child's cheeks. He clutched a soft object in his ice-cold hands tightly, grasping like his life depended on it. Now was the last time that he would cry. After this, he would show them no weakness anymore.
I have to get home. Now.
Their terrified screams. Their horrific mutilated faces. The knowledge that his parents were dead. These things haunted him, filling his being with terror beyond comprehension.
Bolin will be worried.
As his vision blurred helplessly with tears, he brushed the water droplets out of his eyes and focused on getting home. Adrenaline that fed off fear coursed through his veins, fueling him to run faster. If he could escape the wicked firebender's wrath, then perhaps he could find a way to protect his brother. Get a job or something. Find a way to earn money.
Loud, clomping footsteps became more staccato on the hard street, volume increasing rapidly. The firebender was coming for him.
"You won't escape me, boy!" he shrieked, close behind.
The child glanced back at the heartless man, his golden eyes glimmering with horror. Tall and muscular, it would take a miracle to escape the athlete that drew closer and closer with every rapid beating of the young one's heart. Blazing flames burst from the predator's hands, intended to thwart his prey. Eyes were widened before the human instinct to flee kicked in and the fire was evaded by a hair.
Panting laboriously, the boy ambled on, wrapping the cloth object that he was previously clutching around his neck. A red scarf. His father's favorite, red scarf. The one that smelled heavily of smoke and ashes; a result of the endless days of firebending training. Pressing it into his face, it was found to still harbor the welcoming scent, though it was stained with salty tears and blood.
Determination coursed through his being. This horrible man wouldn't succeed in destroying him. He could take away the things that mattered most to him, but he wouldn't succeed in taking his life. Burning hate replaced fear and he felt the tears dry until there were only raindrops splashing down his cheeks.
A main road reached, the child was able to melt into a crowd of people, ultimately hiding himself from the heinous man. He felt dazed as he watched the people step through the streets with their fancy umbrellas, each lost in their own little world. How lucky they seemed; free of worry and distress.
Soon the humble little apartment was reached; old, sagging, and in dire need of repair. As he entered the five-story brick building, he noticed that the rain was sneaking its way into the interior through dripping holes in the dull ceilings and the walls with the peeling paint curling sadly.
Hastily, he made his way to room 411, where he fumbled in his pocket for the metal key that his mother had trusted him with. His mother. Electric green eyes always bright with energy, she was the joy of his life. A comforter to the hurt and a confider for the confused. She was filled with a gentle spirit and her laugh was like a clear, ringing bell that spread joyfully to those around her. Deep, trusting love for his mother filled his beating heart, when the realization that he would never see her again hit him. The tears returned in a flood and he leaned against the wall weakly just to keep from collapsing in a heap on the ground. When the quiet, grieving sobs finally came, he sagged downwards, the friction against the wall slowing his descent. His body wracked with whimpers as he tried to accept the fact that they weren't coming back. It was him and Bolin now. On their own. It was his duty to protect his younger brother.
Pushing the tears aside, he reminded himself that he had to stay strong for his father, his mother, and most importantly: he had to stay strong for Bolin. He picked himself up, rubbed his undoubtedly red cheeks, faced the apartment door and inserted the key. Turning the metal slowly, he allowed himself to look at the corner of the frame. Still burnt coal black from his first attempt at firebending. His father had shown no mercy with the punishment either. However, his mother had joked that it would forever mark his first success at bending the flames. She was right.
Biting his lip to keep the stinging tears from spilling out, he entered the room and breathed in the scent of warm bread that still lingered mouthwateringly in the air. His mother's last meal. Stepping further into the room, he found his younger brother sleeping peacefully on the couch. Bolin's strangle-y mess of brunette hair was attributed to their father and his mother's emerald eyes were just peeking out as he lazily opened them.
"You're back?" he murmured sleepily, cheek pressed against the pillow.
"Yeah, go back to bed," the older told the younger, in a slightly rough manner. His reddened face must've hinted that something was off though, because instead of obeying his brother, Bolin sat up and studied his face. Big green eyes filled with worry and he hugged his tiny body to keep warm in the freezing-cold room. Always low on money; they were never able to pay for heat.
"Where's Mommy?"
The older boy felt his eyes fill with hot tears, but he shrugged them off in an attempt to appear normal for his brother,
"Mommy and Daddy aren't coming back anytime soon."
Bolin clutched his blanket fearfully as his sensitive eyes filled with orbs of tears until they flowed out uncontrollably.
"What happened?"
Pained at seeing the younger like this, the older bent down to embrace his brother in a warm hug, rubbing his shaking back to calm him down. He held tightly, not wanting to break this moment with his only family. Wishing with all his heart that he could bring joy back to those darkened eyes.
"It's okay Bolin. I'm going to protect you. Whatever it takes, I won't let anything happen to you."
It was in that moment that he made the vow to himself. The vow to never show weakness to anyone ever again. To never cry. To never let them win.
And somehow, he managed to keep that vow closely, well into his teen years.
He would never give in. Never hold back. Never let them hurt what he loved most.
For Father.
For Mother.
For Bolin.
His name?
Mako.