Washed Up Upon the Sands
I Don't Belong
Hanaye watched the old man as he muttered in his fever dreams.
The words were disjointed...more nonsense sounds than any thing that could convey meaning beyond pain.
Her long slender fingers trace the tattoos that were placed on his body.
Murderer...assassin...traitor...demon-kin...The hanza (ideograms) were branded into his flesh before the ink was applied. They marked a demon, a ruthless killer who took life for trinkets.
"They thought they broke you. They thought they tamed you and caged you. However, something inside of you allowed you to escape," she whispered.
The dark skinned water-bender looked at the lash scars and the scars he got from a lifetime of slavery. Her green eyes traced the elaborate marks of the torturer's trade.
"I hope that you find your freedom. I wish that I only could find mine."
Hanaye hated being the youngest daughter of the chieftain of Kyoshi Island. Every time she breathed, there were rules and traditions to uphold. Worse yet, she was the only still-living water bender in her family. Her brothers and sisters were earth benders or Kyoshi warriors. They were treated...like...like they mattered.
Her father called water bending...that magic water thing.
The way he said it was like she had some weird disease or something.
"No one understands...even Ayume. She at least had Uncle Iroh to support her and teach her fire bending. I have...him. Called water bending...freakish..."
A flick of the wrist summoned a water tentacle. However when she tried to whip it, the water tentacle fell apart.
"Too bad Aunt Tara died before I was born. If only she were still alive...dad would not be telling to hide my weird powers from the world. I would not have to wash his filthy stinking crap-stained underwear while he thumps his chest and flexes his muscles like he still some great warrior. I mean...what did mom ever see in him?"
She cleared her mind. She had to master the water whip. It was everything the fighting style of the water tribes were based upon. All her siblings, at least the ones who could bend, could fight. Her oldest brother, Ichiro, won the championship at Earth Rumble 27 beating out all the comers who show up to the first Rumble after Lady Toph Bei Fong announced her retirement. No one, not even her dare-devil brother, Jiro, would think of going one on one with world's toughest earth-bender.
Worse yet was cousin Ayume. Fire-benders were hated and were ruthlessly hunted down. However, despite have to grow up hiding her talent, Ayume could do it all. Columns of fire and lightning down from the heavens with the snap of a finger. She could make fire do her bidding.
Hanaye's cousin and siblings were blessed to have someone who would show them the basics. Hanaye had no one.
"Damn it, mom. Why couldn't I bend earth like the rest of the family."
A throat cleared, "Hanaye, what is the rule about cursing in the house?"
A sullen fourteen year old looked back at her mother.
"No cursing allowed. But daddy does it...I mean when he..."
"Uses a fish hook to dig out a fish hook stuck in his thumb and gets two fish-hooks stuck."
Both ladies laughed.
"I remember your aunt telling me that story. I only wished you could meet her. You look like her, minus the hair loop thingies."
"Hair loop thingies...you are almost as bad as dad!"
"Go and eat. I will watch our guest. There will be time to work on that water thingy later."
Hanaye's mother, Suki, could somehow get Hanaye to laugh even when her buttons were being pushed.
The night air was moist. The moisture warmed by the jungle heat. The local mosquito population was fed, sated, and bedded down for the night.
Something commanded him to lay still and mumble incoherently.
The female voice was soft and young. He recognized the impatience of youth and the desire to conquer the world in a single day. The iron mines had cured him of his childish dream. Defiance only ensured that they worked harder to grind you into powder.
He reached out with his senses and felt the fire warming the tea kettle. He felt the electricity that her body generated. While not good enough for a life or death fight, the connection he had with the element allowed him to stay alive while other luckier souls managed to escape their captivity by entering the realm of the dead.
He knew nothing of his life before the mines.
In a way, not having a past saved him. He did not have to wonder about what happened to any loved ones. He did not have to remember what it was like to be free and taste air without eating the dust of the earth.
For fifteen years, they had him control the fires that was used to smelt the raw iron ore into bars of pig-iron. It was only the first step on the path to forging weapons for his captors. Over the years he hid metal splinters in his skin until he had enough to fashion a lock pick. It took half a dozen tries to get it right before he could once again taste free air.
However, they had trapped his spirit.
For so long he dreamt of being free. However when he was out in the open air, panic almost unmanned him and nearly force him to turn himself back in. There were no familiar walls and paths to travel. There was only one big emptiness in the sky that threaten to make him dizzy and hyperventilate.
For two days and nights, he hid. He prayed for those who did in the collapsing cave. He prayed that his former masters believe that his was one of the unidentified bodies they would pull out of the debris. They would pull out the bodies for they condemn were mining a particularly rich ore vein.
Tonight, he would wait until they fell asleep. He would wait for days and weeks if necessary. If they thought him weak, it would be that extra advantage he needed to make his way to the south.
Something compelled him south, maybe it was some remnant of a memory forgotten in captivity. However, that feeling was the only link he had to a world that had forgotten him a lifetime ago.