Down This Unfamiliar Road: Kiran of Baoshan

"Are you sure you want to bring me back with you?" I ask as I follow Gopan through the crowded streets. "You haven't gone home in a month, and they don't know me-"

"Kiran, you're going to be my second in command. I'm planning on having you around for the rest of my life, you should meet my family at some point. And my family should meet the person I've chosen to watch my back," Gopan says, pulling me down a side street that's slightly less crowded. "I've been planning this for a while now, I just couldn't find a good opportunity-"

"Gopan, please tell me we're not going to that house," I interrupt him, tugging him to stop.

"What?" He blinks at me, then turns just enough that I can't see his eyes. "Yeah. Why? It doesn't look that bad does it? They didn't go overboard with the paint while I was gone did they?"

"No, no, it's just," I hesitate as I look up. "I've been here before. Mamá can't bend, so she works as a servant . . . here."

I half expect him to flail again, like he does whenever something goes wrong, but instead, he pulls himself taller, like he's pushed a scarecrow pole up alongside his spine. "Oh that. I knew. It's the other half of the reason I wanted you to come."

I blink at him, then take another long look at the walls of the house. They look wrong from this angle, so much smaller than I remember them to be.

"You wanted me to meet my mother?"

"Well, you told me why you left. I think . . . I think she'll be proud," Gopan says, and here I can hear the familiar stuttering. It makes me suddenly aware of the way my muscles have bunched up, the way I've shifted so that I'm ready to run in a moment.

I know what this is. I know that I tend to run away, and I need to stop doing that. I need to stand up, I need to stand still for once in the face of my fear. I'm earth for the Lady's sake. Earth is supposed to be solid, and all I seem to do is give way, like air. I came back to Gopan once - twice. I can go back to my family.

I take a deep breath and throw back my shoulders. I try to borrow some of the confidence Gopan had shown when he told me he knew my mother worked for his family.

"Alright," I say. "Let's go."

We enter through a side door. I follow close behind Gopan, never quite stepping on his heels. I'm all too aware of the eyes on me as he greets people, and the one time I look back, the gardener is blatantly staring at me.

Thankfully it's better inside without the bustle of things being taken in and out of the estate. The occasional maid bows to Gopan, but for the most part, the hallways are empty as he leads me up to his rooms.

He shows me around his suite, and it's obvious that he's been planning this, at least, for a while, because his word are stiff and rehearsed until he stumbles over "I like to sit and watch the birds", and I laugh.

"What do you really do while you sit here?" I ask, hopping onto the window seat.

"Well," he says settling down on the other side of the window seat, "Here's where I figured out how to read the dust."

"Read the dust?" I ask, glancing down at the people moving around in the courtyard below us, their voices drifting up occasionally.

"Yeah, it's how I - do you know what reading the earth is?"

"I think I've heard of it," I say wrinkling my nose. "I think Kushala does it at some point in her myths to see around corners and such, but no one is ever able to tell me - wait . . . do you know what it is?"

Gopan lets out a soft huff of amusement, but he doesn't bother turning to look at me. "It's well, I guess it's not a fundamental part of earthbending . . . you know how I'm always trying to get you to be less aggressive?"

"Yeah."

"Well . . . reading the earth is . . . um . . . an extension of that? Or - not that. It's an extension of what I'm trying to help you with. Your aggressiveness - I've told you - actually I haven't -I'm sorry, I'm not doing a good job at this." Gopan pauses. I can see his fingers digging into the cushion we're sitting on.

He tries again.

"Earthbending is supposed to be the art of waiting and attacking when the time is right. You - you attack when you see a good opening, but you don't always consider how your opponent will respond. I'm good at waiting, at sorting through the possibilities. That's why I chose you -" He stills in the same way he does when I show him detailed patterns I made on pieces of broken pottery. "I'm too good at waiting sometimes. Onto the point - reading the earth - it's literally reading the earth. Like, when someone stomps really hard next to you, and you can feel the ground shake? It's like that, but I can feel even further."

A bird lands on the wall across the courtyard.

"And you can read the dust in the same way? Feel it in the air, feel it on clothing?"

"Ye-"

There's the sound of something hitting the floor, and both of us startle to our feet. I turn towards the sound, my heart jumping double time, hands already pushing me backwards, when the face registers.

Gopan's fingers dig into my wrist, jerking me to a stop before I reach the window sill.

"Kiran," Mamá murmurs. She moves to step forwards, only to stop when her feet hit the laundry basket. "We thought you were dead. I thought you were dead."

I take a deep breath, very aware of the open air at my back, aware of how easy it would have been to just . . . leave, if Gopan hadn't caught me.

Mamá steps around the basket. I push myself forwards, step by step until I'm standing in front of her. Her hands come up, and I shift nervously in place for a moment, then still as she cups my cheeks. She studies my face for a long moment, her thumbs rubbing my cheek bones. Then her gaze shifts to my uniform, then slowly to Gopan behind me, and she goes pale.

Her gaze darts from me to him then back, and she abruptly steps back.

"Sir, I'm sorry-"

"It's alright, Radha," Gopan says. "I know that Kiran's your daughter."

"Sir?" Mamá asks, the perfect picture of confusion."You must have mistaken me with someone else. My son Kiran is my only child."

I stifle a laugh as Gopan steps forwards so that he's standing shoulder to shoulder with me. "It's okay Mamá. Gopan knows."

Her eyes dart from Gopan's face to mine. "Just so that we're all clear, what exactly does he know?"

"He knows I'm a girl."

She hums skeptically, then steps forwards again. This time she reaches out to tug at my uniform, pulling my tunic down to straighten some of the creases and pulling the seams at my shoulders forwards to that it settles more naturally. "You look good in a uniform."

"Thank you-"

I stumble forwards as she tugs me forwards, a fierce look on her face. "What were you thinking, leaving us right then? Grama was so worried, and you poor Aunt Ayesha blamed herself!"

"I'm sorry," I say. I glance down, and I can't bring myself to look into her eyes.

Mamá sighs after a long moment and lets me go, smoothing the wrinkles she'd made when she grabbed me. "Well. At least you did better than I did. When I ran away to join the army, I got caught five days in."

"What?"

"I had trouble with taking a shower, but you could just bend yourself a curtain, couldn't you?" she asks, tapping her bottom lip with one finger. "Guard Chief Rasul still gives me a look when ever I see him, but at least your father was impressed."

"What."

"What "what" Kiran? Use your words," Mamá says, a smile playing on her lips.

"Do you want me to leave?" Gopan asks, and Mamá glances over to him.

Before she can say anything, I grab his arm. I hope that my mother doesn't see how white my knuckles go as I force a light tone to hide my panic at the thought of being alone with my mother - with any of my family. "Nope. You got me into this, you're going to stay with me until it's over."

"Well, he may not be leaving, but I do need to get back to work," Mamá says. She studies my face again. "Promise me you'll visit?"

"I promise, Mamá."

And with that, she turns around to pick up the basket of laundry that she'd dropped. She sets her shoulders, nods at me, then walks over to one of the doors that Gopan hadn't gotten around to telling me about.

My grip on Gopan's arm relaxes as I watch her go, but he doesn't pull away.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks in the silence after the door closes, and my grip tightens for a moment before I force myself to let go of him, and I turn to walk back to the window seat.

"Not so bad, no," I reply. I look for the the bird that I'd been watching earlier, but it must have flown away.

"And she seemed proud."

"Yeah."

"And something's wrong," Gopan says, sitting down across from me.

"Yeah- wait no!" I sit up straighter.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

He doesn't give me a look because he can't see me, but the unfocused glare works fairly well. I feel the urge to run, and I feel the weight of the bag of gemstones he gave me in my pocket. They're a promise, a symbol of the training he's giving me, a promise that I'll come back. I'd tried to give it back to him after we told each other our deepest secrets, but Gopan looked determined as he closed my fingers back around the bag and told me to give them back when I left him.

My hand goes to my pocket, not slipping in, just pressing so I can feel the outline of a sharp point, even through layers of cloth. I can see Gopan's attention shift by the way he leans forwards slightly. There's a nonchalant tilt to his chin, almost daring me to do it, to give him back the gems.

"I just don't hear her talk about my father much," I say, moving my hand from my pocket to trace the designs on the shutters.

"Oh," Gopan says, sounding a little disappointed. "No deep dark confessions?"

"I told you my deepest darkest secret already," I say, leaning forwards to knock my knuckles against his shin. "Can't you be content with that?"

"Not when you're shaking like that," Gopan says, unsmiling.

Shaking? I look down at my hands, pressing into the cushion. They're trembling, and I press them down harder to stop that.

"I felt that, Kiran. What's wrong?" he says again, and for a moment, I can't help but feel deja vous. His tone reminds me of when he asked me about that stupid rock I was fiddling with, as solid and patient as the earth under our feet. "Don't lie to me."

A flutter of motion above the crowd catches my eye outside the window, and I watch as the bird I'd seen earlier flits above the people. It's a rosefinch. Grama had once pointed others like it out to me while I was sitting around bored in the shop with no more dishes to make or mend. It's red feathers look strange against the green outfits. I feel like I could watch it forever, wondering.

(Wondering why nature has placed a bird with red plumage in the Earth Kingdom, when all the humans unconsciously choose to wear green and yellow here?

The question reminds me of Minato, and his questions on why the sky is blue, on why plants are green, on why people wear colors that announce their element to the world.)

"I didn't expect her to let it go that easily," I say as the bird finally flutters out of view. "It's a big deal, and I was gearing myself up for heartache, and instead, Mamá just came through in a whirlwind of we were worried and it's fine I did it too, and-"

I take a deep breath. I try to relax, or at least calm down. I watch Gopan make an absent swirling motion with his finger that sends the dust on the window sill spiraling into the air, and I'm reminded of MInato again.

It's silly. They look nothing alike. Minato's hair is an odd reddish brown, and he has it cut short in the same style as Kyoshi. Gopan's hair is the normal long, boring black braided tightly back into a rope behind his head. Minato's skin in is darker - probably because he spends more time outside. Gopan's clothes are in lighter shades.

It's just that I've seen Minato do that exact same motion before to send the water in his cup spiraling. I saw him do it last night.

Or . . . did he? Does he? Does water bending even work that way? It's not like I've ever seen a waterbender outside my dreams. It's not like I even know that Minato's real.

If he is real - then he's got his own proof. Isn't it convenient that someone who knows Hikari just happened to come to his island?

I want to know. I want to know if he's real. I want to know if Hikari's real. I want to know if there really is a chance that at some point in my lifetime, someone sympathetic to the Earth KIngdom will ascend to the throne. I want to know, but I don't . . . have the money . . . to . . . send a bird . . .

"Gopan?"

Pale green eyes come up to meet mine.

"Would you be willing to pay for a messenger bird? There's someone I need to talk to."