Short Story: Four Hundred and Twenty Seconds

Base: "I'll hold on to this, and I won't break, remembering that once, we shared the same past. Even if… Even if we won't be sharing the same future."


She wakes up feeling surprisingly normal, her body in a supine position on what seems to be freshly watered earth judging from the solid softness she's feeling under her. She stirs and wonders why there is an unsettling adrenaline inside her and looks around. She is alone, and she is lost.

She jolts up and her unseeing eyes widen in attempt to catch a glimpse of a boy with the heartbeat she doesn't want to live without. She gets no such luck, try as she might to sense human life, any human life around her.

She is afraid, so damn afraid, but not for her own life or her safety but she is terrified that she might never feel his presence again—no, she forces her mind not to think of such thoughts, hoping against all hope that if she did not think of it then no such thing will ever exist. She chants in her mind, not knowing if she's trying to convince destiny or to fool herself, it doesn't matter, so long as he is safe, he is safe, he is safe…

A rustle of leaves to her side pulls her out of her trance, and pulling herself to her feet she dares to hope.

"Aang?"

"Yes, it's me. How are you feeling?"

She stands frozen on her spot, as if moving or blinking or even breathing will make him disappear into thin air. This is too good to be true, him being here and she almost let herself believe that this is actually Koh standing in front of her, disguising himself as Aang to lure her into a false sense of security.

"Aang? Is that really you?"

Stupid question, she knows, but she asks anyway. She has no other way of telling after all, this place, this damned, panic-inducing pathetic excuse for a place is eliminating any chance of her sensing her visitor properly. She has no choice but to verbally express her desperate curiosity to anyone who can hear her. She knows it's not an efficient way at all, if it's really Koh then a convincing lie will most probably be at the ready on his lips, but she wishes for an honest answer anyway.

"Yes, Toph. Are you alright?"

"I am. Where's Koh? What happened?"

"He's not here. You're safe."

She isn't convinced.

"Aang?"

"Yes?"

"Kiss me."

A hint of incredulity is evident in the visitor's sudden spike of heartbeat and she is torn between two conclusions: that it's either Aang pushed to complete embarrassment by her uncharacteristic request or Koh suddenly nervous at the possibility of kissing her and exposing his charade. She waits, and feels tentative lips press against hers for a second or two. She comes to a realization quickly and attacks the person, tackling him to the ground.

She tries not to cry.

"Don't you dare do that again! Ever!"

Gentle arms wrap around her and she welcomes the act, feeling a sense of security even amidst the darkness that blinds and the coldness that burns.

"You're alright. Thank goodness you're alright, Toph."

"Don't be an idiot. I've been asleep the whole time! Of course I'm alright."

She shifts and the both of them are on their feet, dusting off their clothes and basically just reveling in each other's presence. She tries to sense anything coming off from him that may give her a clue as to what exactly happened while she was asleep. She succumbs to asking.

"What happened, Aang? Where is Koh? Did he do anything to you? How come we're both safe?"

"We talked, Toph. We talked and now he's gone away. He's not going to bother us again. We're safe because I made him understand."

"Understand what, Aang? What did you talk about?"

He exudes a peace so stable it makes her think of an eagle's liberating flight, and she senses a countenance of confidence take over his whole being that her heart swells with pride: He had been victorious.

"You don't have to worry about it, Toph. I made him give you up."

She hugs him, and she allows her mind to imagine glorious battlefield scenes or mysterious duels of deception in which her man with gray eyes emerges unscathed and triumphant while that worthless monster of a creature lies in defeat. She adds in a "begging for his life" scene to satisfy her sudden craving for flair and her ever-present hatred for their previous pursuer. She remains in dreamland, and nothing could be better than being in his arms, feeling a steady rush of strength emanating from his veins.

Indeed there is strength in battle, even more so in victory. The bittersweet truth, however, is that the greatest, most precious form of strength lies beneath the most noble act of all: sacrifice.


A young girl plays with a blade of grass, fascinated by the feel of the supple object weaving through her fingers. It makes her think of a union between the vastness above her that she cannot sense and the warmth around her that she cannot ignore. Strangely, it makes her remember a memory that doesn't exist.

"I like your eyes."

"You're spewing random nonsense again, Aang."

"No really! In fact, I don't think I've ever seen anything like it before."

"You've never seen eyes before?"

"Of course I have. Yours are different."

"How?"

"Well for one, they're green."

She doesn't know where that voice came from, or why it sprouted in her brain, because it certainly isn't a memory. How can something that never happened be one? No, she must just be imagining things.

Still, the male voice was eerily familiar, like she's known it all her life. Well, all 8 years of her life anyway. She isn't even sure if the girl in the daydream was her, her being blind enabling her to recognize the small difference in pitch between her voice and the dream girl's.

She decides to pass it off as insignificant, and pushes the voices to the back of her mind. She raises her head and breathes deeply, noticing the slightest of changes in the coolness around her.

The green blade of grass floats off in the wind.