Figuring Things Out
His eyes snapping open, Jet tried to sit up with a yell, but he felt too heavy to even move his lips. A groan croaked out instead, and he realized his mouth was dry and dusty. Rather than fight against strangely weary muscles, he held still for a moment, mind once again struggling to work.
Okay, Jet. Calm down. Let's start from the beginning. Where are you?
That question was relatively easy to answer. He was lying on a thin mat underneath a thick, scratchy blanket pulled up to his neck. If what he'd seen during that terrifying fall was anything to go by, he was somewhere in the lower ring of Ba Sing Se. Jet moved his head a little and saw worn, but scrupulously clean wooden planks forming the walls and floor of the small room he lay in. On one wall hung a single tattered scroll with calligraphy, but since Jet couldn't read, he didn't know what it said. Under the scroll was a thin shelf that held a cracked brown vase with a couple of wilting flowers in it.
Somewhere close by, but not in the same room, a kettle began to whistle. Jet heard slow, measured steps, then the clang of metal against metal, after which the whistling died off. Again, the slow, measured steps sounded and then came the noises of clinking pottery and pouring water in what seemed to be the making of tea. Finally, the footsteps began shuffling their way towards the room where Jet lay.
Jet looked up at the ceiling and realized with a momentary flush that he seemed to be wearing only his underwrappings. Small aches all over his body were beginning to make themselves felt, with one big knot of pain in the left side of his chest. He took a few experimental deep breaths, and immediately regretted the wash of pain-induced dizziness that came over him.
Ok, so I'm not going anywhere for the moment...
Jet decided that if he was still dead, in the afterlife, or whatever, it sucked ass. That empty grassland and the dragon were better than lying under this dumb scratchy blanket while his whole body hurt, waiting for whoever was in the next room to come and torment him.
A door out of his field of vision creaked open and an old man's voice said, "Ah, you've awoken. I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't."
The old man made his slow, careful way around to where Jet could see him. He wore a drab, faded green changsan and roughly woven trousers, with a simple brown-gray pidai made of a coarse material. His house slippers, kept in a pristine condition compared to his other clothes, stopped a few feet away from Jet.
"You took quite a fall, child." The elder man knelt next to Jet, a polished wooden tray held steadily between two hands. "What you were doing on the roof, I do not know, and I'm only glad that you didn't crash through." The man smiled warmly, his moustache moving only slightly. "I'd hate to have to pay twice the rent to make up for a ruined roof."
Settling down on his shins, the man gently placed the tray he was holding in front of him and began to pour the tea. Jet could only stare at him, baffled at the situation.
"Do you like sugar in your tea?" The elder looked up from his work to look at Jet with gray-blue, wise eyes.
Jet, despite the piercing pain all over his body, heaved himself up. "Do I want sugar in my tea?! No, you crazy old man!" Jet threw his arms up in the air, barely containing a wince and the urge to pass out. "Where the hell am I?! Where are my clothes?!"
The older gentleman laughed heartily, dropping a spoonful of sugar into each of the two teacups before stirring them both gently. "Patience, child. A little sweetness will help you settle." The man put a gentle, wrinkled hand on Jet's shoulder and guided him back into his bed. "How about names over herbal tea, yes? I am Yongyuang Naixin." Yongyuang settled back on his legs and sipped his tea, looking over the rim of the cup at Jet.
Jet surveyed the old man suspiciously over his own teacup as he took a looked like a harmless old man, complete with a bald head and white mustache. His limbs didn't shake with age, and he hadn't walked in with the help of a cane.
The old fart probably has some sort of trick up his sleeve... Jet thought maliciously, placing his cup down on the floor roughly, as if denying the wonderful feeling the tea brought to his aches.
"I'm Jet, of the Freedom Fighters." Jet grumbled, looking away from Yongyuang resentfully.
"It is very good to meet you, Jet. Drink your tea. You were pretty well banged up when I brought you in, so I mixed in some pain relievers." Yongyuang winked, his eyes twinkling cheerily. "Old men like me always have some around. It helps trick our joints into believing we're young, spry things again."
The corners of Jet's mouth lifted at the old man's joke. Another twinge of pain made him relent and pick up the cup of tea. He sniffed at it surreptitiously, trying to check for poison.
Yongyuang seemed to have read his mind. "Come now. I went through all that trouble nursing you back to consciousness, I wouldn't try to kill you with a bad cup of tea."
Abashed, Jet took another sip while looking warily at the man seated before him. Jet studied the man through glances while they sat silently for nearly two minutes. Finally, Yongyuang spoke again.
"Child, your silence is unnerving. I know you have questions floating around in your head, and I have some time left over." Yongyuang smiled warmly again, his wrinkled face showing dimples and smile lines.
Jet put his nearly empty cup down, clearing his throat a bit as Yongyuang refilled it and dropped more sugar in.
This man is bat shit crazy...How should he even know what I'm thinking?! Only that pushy dragon was ever able to do that...
They sat in an awkward silence for a moment more before Jet decided he would have some questions answered.
"Where is this? Are we in...You know..." Jet waved an arm around, looking suspiciously at the dead flowers. It would make sense and all, seeing as this is the dead place...Or whatever the hell it's called...
Yongyuang twirled a thoughtful finger through his moustache, placing his tea on the floor beside him before saying, "Yes, we are in the outer ring of Ba Sing Se. Quite a place out there, I must say, but my home nonetheless."
Jet's brow furrowed in thought. I'm back in the living world...But how can that be...?
"I'm not quite sure..." Yongyuang commented, scaring the shit out of Jet.
He really does read minds...!
"...But I think that many of the people here are like you and me; people that don't quite belong anywhere else." Yongyuang looked inquisitively at Jet, who wore the remnants of a horrified expression. "You look pale, child. You should sleep now, and I'll wake you up for supper."
Yongyuang gave one last smile before hauling himself up and picking up the tray and teacups. He shuffled out in his beautifully stitched slippers, moving through the doorway and sliding the door shut behind himself.
Jet gingerly lowered himself back down on the mat, hissing slightly in anticipation of more blinding pain. To his surprise, most of the pain from his bruises were greatly diminished, and his chest only throbbed with a dull ache. It still hurt, but he didn't feel like he was about to pass out. He felt his lids growing heavy, and decided to relax just enough to go to sleep.
~o~o~o~
:: So, is he not as I said he would be? ::
Yongyuang chuckled at the dragon's thoughts. He formed his response in his mind, knowing from experience that the dragon did not need to be spoken to out loud in order to hear him.
If you mean that he's as foolish as you make him out to be, I think not. To hear you speak of it, he has no hope of becoming your champion in the living world due to his paranoia and stupidity. He seems suspicious of strangers, yes, but he is very intelligent. He is only young and hasn't gained much wisdom yet.
:: Perhaps. I only hope that he was worth the effort of bringing back. ::
Yongyuang's dream self, in the form of a rather peculiar gorillabear, crossed his arms in thought.
He is not yet beyond saving, though it will not be easy to bring him back, and up, to the level you expect. He must be the one who wants to change, you know.
:: I can only hope that he does, for he will not go back to the Spirit World as he was before, should he fail... ::
Yongyuang's wise eyes softened, like an already warm stick of butter beginning to melt.
For the sake of, if only that, I pray that he will win your favor.
~o~o~o~
Jet's eyes popped wide open to the faint greenish glow of candlerocks and the smell of something deliciously inviting. He pushed himself up just in time for Yongyuang to poke his head into the small room.
"You have excellent timing, Jet. Dinner is almost ready. Wait a little and I'll bring some to you on a tray."
Jet grunted as Yongyuang closed the door and went through a quick mental check of his body. He was still sore, and the pain in his chest was only slightly diminished, but as far as he could tell, nothing was wrong with his legs. If he continued to lay around like this, it would just make it harder for him to get up when the time came. Carefully, he gathered himself up and slowly stood, gritting his teeth against all the protests of his injuries. When he finally heaved himself up, he looked around for some clothes.
If I can stand, I can walk. If I can walk, I can go out there and see what's cooking.
He glanced down at his body and winced. Dark bruises of varying shapes and sizes mottled his skin, making him look like a piebald moosequine. It was with a little relief that he spotted his clothes folded up nearby, and managed to pull on his shirt and pants while hiding them from view. He left off the ragtag bits of armor, telling himself that it was because they were unnecessary here and not because he didn't want to aggravate all his injuries with the extra pull of belts and metal.
He made his way out of his room with only a slight limp, and into a larger room that looked like a combination of a living room and a kitchen. Yongyuang was leaning over a small stove, stirring something in an old metal pot, while a tray and bowls waited patiently on the the sound of Jet's footsteps, Yongyuang turned with a startled expression that quickly turned to one of delight.
"Ah, I forget how resilient the young are. I am glad you're able to walk around now. You can join me at the table here."
The old man turned and rearranged the bowls into a simple table setting.
"Put out some spoons and cups, dear boy. You'll find them in the cupboard here."
Yongyuang gestured at the single cupboard mounted on the wall over the small stretch of counter residing to the right of the stove. Jet did so, only slightly begrudgingly, and then sat in one of the chairs around the unusually high table. He'd never encountered anything like it before; but, after considering his injuries, he appreciated not having to lower himself all the way to the floor.
"I hope you don't mind something a little simple, child; a little garlic sauce, rice, and fish should curb the edge on your stomach." Yongyuang turned around to smile at Jet, carrying the pot to the table and setting it on the cloth he used to move it.
As if on cue, Jet's stomach let out the loudest, sharpest growl it could manage. He reacted on instinct to the sound, clutching at his stomach and almost immediately regretting it; the blooms of bruises emitted dull throbs, while the scabbing wounds sent out strikes of needle-pointed pain. He moaned softly, allowing himself only a millisecond of weakness before snapping back into himself.
Get a grip, Jet. You weren't born to be a pussy!
"I see your injuries are beginning to heal." Yongyuang commented, scooping a healthy serving of food into Jet's bowl, then a smaller portion into his own before looking up at the young man.
Jet only stared back at the man with a carefully blank expression before lifting his utensils and shoveling the meal into his mouth. It had a rank, sweet taste from the garlic sauce, and the carp had a soft and flakey texture. It was good, even better compared to his days with the Freedom Fighters.
Yongyuang chuckled again at Jet's appetite as he began eating. He ate with more dignity, perhaps, but his enjoyment was equal to that of Jet's.
Together, the two ate in silence; Jet inhaling his meal, with occasional glances at Yongyuang, and the elder eating more slowly with a faraway look in his eyes.
The food helped Jet feel like himself again, and the more he ate, the more impatient he became with the placid old longer he sat at the elder's table, the longer he ate the elder's food, the longer he was in the elder's company...The more he felt as if he were being trapped. Did the old man expect some kind of compensation for taking care of Jet?
What if he's going to demand servitude in exchange for 'saving my life'?
That last thought was about to send Jet back to wondering just what exactly was happening to him, what with all the dying and resurrection, when Yongyuang put down his spoon and smiled at Jet.
Oh, man. Here comes the catch.
"So, what did you think of all those soldiers coming in lately?"
Jet blinked in confusion. "What soldiers? You mean those guys with the rock gloves?" He racked his brain for their name. "The, uh... Oh, the Dai Li!"
Yongyuang eyes glanced around momentarily at the mention of the secret police of Ba Sing Se, as if checking the room for spies, but shook his head.
"I mean the Fire Nation soldiers. Rumor has it that the Earth King has fled Ba Sing Se to escape the coup staged by Princess Azula."
A silent roaring filled Jet's ears as rage boiled up in his belly, turning the delicious food to a dead stone in his stomach. Ba Sing Se, the last stronghold of the Earth Kingdom, fallen to the Fire Nation? That was impossible!
About as impossible as being brainwashed, killed, then brought back to life and meeting a dragon.
On second thought, it was probably more likely than he'd first imagined.
Yongyuang continued on. "Rumors also say that Princess Azula also controls the Dai Li, which implies that she's now in charge of 'preserving and maintaining our cultural heritage.'" His voice was tinged with faint sarcasm, and he gave a sly smile while taking the last few bites of his meal. "Not many people seem to mind, though. The only difference between the Fire Nation troops and the Dai Li are the colors. And maybe methods."
Jet's mind only had enough room at that moment for his deep hatred relating to the Fire Nation, and how this old man was going to hold him back from fighting the enemy. His knuckles were white around the spoon he held, and the aches and pains of his injuries were replaced with the coiled tension of his muscles.
"Jet, my boy, are you feeling alright? You're shaking." Yongyuang's eyes were concerned, and he placed his spoon on the table to lean in towards Jet.
The former Freedom Fighter suddenly jumped up from his chair, slamming his hands angrily on the table and causing most of the now-empty dishes on it to bounce.
"No, I'm not alright! Ba Sing Se is being occupied by enemy troops, and nobody but me wants to do anything about it! But apparently I can't, since your old ass is keeping me prisoner here!"
Yongyuang's concern turned into astonishment, and he asked, "What are you talking about?"
Jet stabbed an accusatory finger at the old man. "You know what I'm talking about! You've helped me and so now you're going to demand something in return!"
To Jet's ultimate surprise, Yongyuang laughed. He looked at Jet with a twinkle in his eye and a humorous smile. "Young man, do you really think I'm capable of forcing you to do anything? I'm an old man, and you are a young one."
"Yeah, but-"
Yongyuang cut Jet off by holding up a wrinkled hand. "My son, even if I were to demand repayment for doing what any decent person would have, I could not keep you from doing what you wanted. I could only appeal to your sense of honor, and in the face of such passion as yours, that might not prove to be sufficient."
Jet was staring at the old man with an open mouth now, completely dumbfounded. "You mean... I can go whenever I want?"
Yongyuang nodded. "Of course you can. I would offer some friendly advice, though. It would probably be best if you waited until your injuries were more thoroughly healed before getting into fights. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I don't have much company, you know."
Jet was speechless in the face of Yongyuang's generosity. According to most of his former gang of Freedom Fighters, adults rarely gave away something for nothing. There had been one kid named Quickfoot who'd angrily described how his adoptive uncle regularly beat him for not showing enough gratitude for the meager scraps he was granted and the moldy straw he was permitted to sleep in. For Quickfoot, life in the trees was a vast improvement over his previous lot. It was therefore confusing to Jet that this stranger wasn't going to ask for anything in return for everything he'd done.
Yongyuang seemed to notice Jet's inner struggle and stood. "Well, if you've eaten your fill, I shall clean up. If a certain stumped young man were to offer his help with the dishwashing, I wouldn't say no."
Jet started, under the daze of confusion, and awkwardly began to help gather up the dishes. His mind unusually blank of all suspicion and tactic, Jet proceeded to help the unusual Yongyuang with a normal, quiet household chore.
~o~o~o~
Jet lay again on the mat, staring up at the ceiling and trying to sort out everything in his mind. Yongyuang had retired to his own room after dinner had been cleared away, and the whole apartment was quiet.
So far, Jet had decided that he had previously been dead and for some reason been brought back to life. Somehow, his body had been taken out from under Lake Laogai and brought into Yongyuang's home, where his soul now occupied it. Yongyuang was not going to ask for repayment for this favor, and this bothered Jet. The fact that the old man did not expect anything in return for kindness gave Jet the urge to do something for the elder. He just didn't know what yet.
Then there was that whole business with the dragon. Jet wondered what it had meant when it said to learn what true freedom was, or he would know true death.
Maybe it meant that I have to free Ba Sing Se from the Fire Nation? Yeah, that'll be a piece of cake, you stupid dragon! What is true death anyway...?
These questions, and many others, whirled around and around in Jet's head until he finally drifted off into a sleep haunted by glittering, yellow eyes and the sounds of growls and roars.
Irako's Author Note: Since the Avatar wiki page about Ba Sing Se said that it seemed to follow the Ming and Qing dynasty fashions most closely, we've decided to use Chinese words for clothing while in the Lower Ring. The only problem with that is we haven't been able to find out anything about different styles of dress for the various classes during those two dynasties, and whether the pieces of clothing had different names from the ones today. If anyone knows anything, please tell us!
If anyone was confused about our head-canon, we decided that after Azula zapped Aang and forced the Gaang to flee, she would have called for an occupying force and brought them into Ba Sing Se with the help of the Dai Li. Then she would have handed over Ba Sing Se to the force's commanding officer (in this case, a general) so she could go back to being a Fire Nation Princess and tormenting Zuko for a while, leaving most of the Dai Li under the general's command. The Dai Li are currently obeying Azula's orders to be good little secret police officers and mind the general while she's gone. Rumors of this change in command have already spread throughout Ba Sing Se. Everybody is simultaneously scared of the Fire Nation soldiers and the Dai Li, so haven't risen up in rebellion in case people start disappearing more frequently. Jet has a serious problem with this, and we'll be exploring that more in upcoming chapters.
Thanks for reading!
Verruckt's Author's Note: For the readers with us as we continue this story, this was one of those slower and more informational chapters. Hopefully, we'll have the next chapter up in a couple weeks, at most. As Irako's covered nearly everything else above, I'll end this one short and thank the base of readers, and new readers, again for sticking with us through this. Happy trails!