[[Author's note: I want to take a sec to apologize on how long this one came out and that it's rather short. There are a few factors that went into this, one being that my original copy of this chapter wasn't saved properly and I had to start from scratch.
The other was a decision to alter the pace and setup a bit. Originally, this was going to simultaneously be a story describing the battle in the South over Korra and an explanation of the backstories of the Red Lotus members, like how we got some of Zaheer's history. However, I was growing increasingly displeased with how it was affecting the pacing, so I have elected that I will be describing their backstories elsewhere in a companion piece to this I will name "The Blooming Lotus", so look for that sometime in the near future for more on Ghazan, Ming Hua and P'Li.]]
I was awoken the next morning by the rumble of the anchor hitting the ocean floor and some mostly blotted voices coming from the upper deck. After the witching hour it had become even colder than the previous day, and I could see the discomfort on P'Li's face as she too began to stir. The lava Ghazan had ignited had long since cooled and the lower deck had become miserable. I was longing for sunlight in that darkness, but knew I'd have it soon enough.
Perhaps half an hour later the door to the deck was opened, two of the ship hands passing on bowls of steaming fish and rice soup. I could see the disdain on Ghazan's face as he accepted it.
"C'mon, really? Is this a meal for a warrior? I feel cheated."
"Be gracious to our hosts," I told him sternly, doing so thereafter and slowly picking through the broth with my chopsticks.
From his first sip Ghazan let out a hack and cough. "I am gracious to our hosts. It's not their fault this was all they had."
"Actually it's traditional water tribe," One of the decksmen said, unamused. "Panther eel and rice is said to keep a warrior full for a long day of battle."
"What, are you serious…? Ming? Ming how the hell did you eat this crap?"
"Without hands," she snapped, glaring at him as the bowl's contents slowly began to levitate, the hot broth gently extending towards her lips as she gave it a blow. The way she has managed in her condition still impresses me, even in such simple acts.
I picked the lumps of eel out of my soup and set them into P'Li's bowl, keeping my attention to the rice and salty broth. I'm not a vegetarian by choice anymore, but the years of living with the monks had permanent effects on my stomach. Though I wouldn't dare say it aloud, I had similar sentiments as Ghazan. It tasted like rations, more than anything else. There's an old adage that goes- In the perfect world, the airbenders are peacekeepers, the earthbenders are mechanics, the firebenders are the cooks and the waterbenders care for the ill. In the world of nightmares, the airbenders are the mechanists, the earthbenders care for the ill, the firebenders are the peacekeepers and the waterbenders are the cooks. Whatever stereotypes the saying represents, it is unquestionable that Water Tribe food is not particularly suited to the palate of an outsider.
As we ate our meal I produced the scroll detailing the day's activities that Unalaq had given me once they had been finalized, P'Li supplying me with the flame necessary to read in the dark of the lower deck. "We've just arrived, which means it's probably about ten in the morning." My finger slowly traced over the itinerary as Ghazan and Ming Hua leaned in close. "Open festivities until noon… Then a speech by Katara. Another speech at three by Zuko. Another one by Tenzin at six before the friends and family gather for a feast-"
"Damn, the Firelord and the Avatar's son are both here?" Ghazan asked. "I'm not looking forward to tangling with them."
"Zuko is aging, he's well past his prime," Ming Hua pointed out. "And the Avatar's son is an airbender. He won't be a problem."
"Don't underestimate him," I remarked. "None of us have ever fought an airbender before. And however peaceful his heritage is, he's still a warrior. Like his father."
"If there's anyone to worry about, it'll be Unalaq's brother," P'Li said. "There is a reason waterbending fathers are called, 'Papa Wolf Bears'."
"If all goes as we hope, there will not be a need to battle any of them," I said. "We're only using force if absolutely necessary. We seek destruction of institution, not of innocent lives."
We remained within for the next two hours until another of the hands came and motioned we could exit. Each of us stepped out of the boat, garbed in heavy winter coats and gloves, each with a few personal touches as need be. Ming Hua's coat was several sizes too big, to better justify the complete lack of anything protruding from the sleeves. P'Li wore a headband to cover the third eye tattooed on her forehead and Ghazan kept his scarf raised above his mouth, insisting he was so out of place without his moustache that someone would recognize him by noticing it was missing. It was an insane belief, but I didn't try and sway him from remaining conspicuous. My weaponry, most notably my bow and odachi, remained outside of my coat. If anyone troubled me about them, Unalaq insisted, I should simply say they were decorative and I was looking to sell them to some vendor. The odachi is, after all, long and heavy enough to appear impractical to most people.
With the first crunch of fresh snow as we proceeded into the South Pole, it really struck me that after all these months, we were finally there. About to undertake the most important journey of our lives. If we succeeded, we were going to change the world forever.
But it was pointless to try and make a move against the Avatar and her protectors at that point. As it had been pointed out, some of the most esteemed benders who had ever lived were gathered all in one place. The legendary Toph Beifong would be the only other truly formidable opponent who could have turned up. But even the mighty can grow weary after a long day of speeches, food and heavy drink. By night's end they would all collapse in exhaustion, and our work would be all the easier.
Until then, all we had to do was avoid drawing attention. We were just four outsiders celebrating one of the biggest festivals in the south.
I had to laugh at the way I sounded like a parent telling Ghazan and Ming Hua not to get into trouble as P'Li and I made out way into the crowds that dwindled thanks to Katara's speech. "Are you hungry?" I asked.
"I've had enough Water Tribe food," she muttered.
So we continued around the stalls, casually looking over the small, hand carved figurines of Avatar Aang and large stuffed replicas of his bison. The only stand that caused me a double check of displeasure: one with a young man painting light blue arrows on children's arms and foreheads.
"Reducing his culture to face painting… Of course that's what he would have wanted," I retorted.
"I could blow it to dust," P'Li whispered. "I'm getting sick of playing along… It could be anyone out here."
"You know that isn't true," I told her. "It's an annoyance… But we have to let it be. We don't want any attention."
Without much else to kill the time, I led P'Li to the yard on the village's southern side where Zuko would soon be giving his speech at around two, finding us two seats between the middle and back of the audience. There were already many others waiting to hear the Firelord speak. I wasn't particularly interested in what Zuko had to say, but the celebration only had so much appeal with our attempts to remain inconspicuous and inability to take any inebriating substances. Sledding on penguins could easily cause some piece of our disguises to come out of place and photos with Tenzin's bison could confirm our presence. So waiting for Zuko it was.
About ten or fifteen minutes after we'd been seated I said, "Still too damn cold out. I'm getting some tea. You want anything?"
"Mint, if they have it."
I rose from my seat and proceeded to one of the vendors, finding myself just behind Ming Hua when I did.
"Enjoying yourself?" I asked.
"I hate the South."
"You hate the South, you hate the North, any place you don't hate?"
"The Swamp," she said curtly. "Shame there's no fried possum chicken around here."
"The Swamp? Never heard that detail before."
"… Well… If I get killed in the crossfire… I'd like someone to know the truth. Ghazan's a bastard and P'Li's a basket case. You're the only one around here I can really trust."
"Well then, I suppose I'm honored. I wish you wouldn't refer to P'Li like that though."
"I'm not being offensive," Ming Hua said quickly. "But she has a lot she's still getting past. I'm not bothering her with my business."
"Well, I guess I know one thing about you," I said. "You've been to The Swamp. At some point or another."
"You just get a taste… I'm sick and tired of hearing about Ghazan's shit over and over again. The less I say the better."
"I hardly think what Ghazan went through is anything like that," I told her. "He was just a kid when all that happened… He was being promised a better life."
Ming Hua opened her mouth to add another thought when I found myself stopped dead in my tracks. I could hear a giggle turning into a laugh. I don't know how I knew it was her, a sixth sense just seemed to overtake me.
"Zo-ko, Zo-ko!" She laughed. With a tiny, deep colored outstretched hand she grabbed ahold of the small, graying beard upon the Firelord's chin and tugged on it, repeatedly chanting his name as she sat on the shoulders of her giant of a father.
The three of them must have all arrived early to make their way in for Zuko's speech, the Avatar and her father surely to be placed as his guests of honor as he joined her laughter and tussled her hair with a gentle hand.
There was no doubt. That tiny, laughing child was our Avatar.
That tiny, laughing child was our target.