Thank you to karanathefirebender, StoriesAreMagic and Bolinlover123 for your reviews, StoriesAreMagic and SnappleSauce for your follows, and Pedro-IS-Madi12 and Red Ethel Flint for your favorites. I really appreciate you guys taking the time to say something about this little fic of mine. :)
Hey, everyone! I'm finally back with another installment of Age of Innocence. Don't worry, I learned my lesson—no more awful cliffies, and definitely not as long of a wait for my next chapter! Now all we have to see is how long I can manage to stick to that promise, and how long it'll be until I update again. My main focus for a while will be on Those in Peril on the Sea and Illogically Logical, but I promise that I will not forget about Age of Innocence. Pinky swear, and you can hold me to that.
Let's get on with it, shall we? :)
Warning: There will be child abuse, gang violence, mild language and other triggering themes throughout this, so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't feel obligated to read on. I will take no offence whatsoever.
B, this one's for you.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Korra, but I do own my original characters.
Age of Innocence by boasamishipper
I'm not complainin' now, you understand
You get to sing and dance all day
Like children play
But it's time to act like a man
Bein' a man means responsible
You hear it wherever you go
Nothing is ever impossible
Something inside tells me so
And I know what I know…
Neil Diamond "Act Like a Man"
163 AG
When he comes around, he feels like he's stuck on a boat in the middle of a hurricane. He tries to think, wondering where he is because whatever he's lying on doesn't feel like his cot in the room he and Mako share, and he can't smell Mako making tea, but there's a high-pitched screaming noise that keeps his thoughts from forming into concise answers. He can't tell whether or not the sound is in his head or if he's dreaming it up.
Something cold and wet trickles down his forehead, and Bolin nearly moans in relief because it feels really good against his hot skin. Someone is saying something, but he can't quite make it out. He swallows a groan and squirms, trying to get into a more comfortable position, when he hears a strangely familiar voice saying, "Are you coming around, kid?"
Bolin doesn't know why, but he opens his eyes, and discovers that it's just as dark in wherever they are than it is with his eyes closed. This isn't right, he realizes. What's going on? Where am I? "Where…?" he asks hoarsely, not able to speak without his throat feeling like it's been set on fire. His eyes adjust, and he blinks at the person sitting stock-still beside him, limply holding a wet rag—the person looks like he's been poleaxed. "Kush?"
"In the badly-bruised flesh," quips the older boy, tossing the rag to the side. "Are you okay, kid?"
"I'm okay…" Something's wrong. Bolin can't figure out what, though. "Am I sick?"
"No." Kush sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like Mako does when he gets headaches. "Spirits, I hope not. You got shoved forward and hit your head on the wall of the truck. Any of this ringing a bell, kid?"
Bolin's hand flies to his forehead and he winces, the events of the rumble and being thrown into the truck coming back to him all at once. What had happened to Mr. Viper and Mr. Zolt? Had the Red Monsoons succeeded in running away? He had so many question for Kush that he's not even sure where he should begin. "Where are we?"
"In a cell at the police station," Kush answers, sitting on the floor and gesturing around him. Bolin makes the connection between the cell bars and the drab gray walls. "The others are another one. The fuzz let me stay with you."
Bolin gasps and sits up in surprise. "Wait, K-Kush, where's Mr. Zolt? Where's Shang and the others? What happened to them? Did they get arrested? What's—"
"Hey, hold on, calm down, kid," Kush says, shoving Bolin back down. "Don't hurt yourself, okay?"
"Where's Mako? Is Mako coming for me?" Bolin can't even stomach the thought of Mako not coming for him. Imagining the scenarios where his brother doesn't come are terrifying beyond belief, and they aren't helping his headache any. "Kush, he's coming for me, right?"
"Will you just shut up and listen to me?" Kush snaps, effectively shutting Bolin up. "Spirits, pipe down, kid. Do you want me to explain or not?" Without waiting for an answer, the older boy continues. "Look. We got taken away from the rumble. The adults, like Zolt and Viper and them, they got out on bail. Red Monsoons got tossed and no one gives two shits about them anyways, yeah? But like, we're here. We're under sixteen, so—"
"So we can't get bailed out."
"Yeah, that's right," Kush agrees, nodding but doesn't look like he's very happy about the situation. Bolin can relate—his stomach is tying itself into knots just thinking about it. "Point is that all of the fuzz are sitting around with their thumbs up their butts in a conference room trying to think of what they want to do with street mongrels like us." Bolin doesn't quite know what the word 'mongrel' means, but he doubts it's a good word. But who's going to wash Kush's mouth out with soap here? Hopefully not him. "Shang and the others are in another cell, they weren't exactly clean on staying with you after you threw up all over them."
"What about Mako?" Bolin says again for the millionth time. "Kush, isn't Mako going to come and get me?"
Kush looks sad for a second and looks away from Bolin. He bites his thumbnail and chews on it for a while, glaring at the floor like it had personally offended him. "I don't know, kid," he says sadly. "I just—I just don't know."
Bolin's breaths come in gasps, and his head starts spinning and the world is going completely crazy because there's no way that this can be happening because Mako is coming for him, he is, Bolin isn't going rot in a prison cell forever and oh Spirits, this cannot be happening or so help him—
"Kid!" Kush kneels next to him. "Kid, calm the shit down, okay? Okay? Look, your brother might be coming for you, I don't know…did he know about you going to the rumble last night? Bolin!"
Bolin shakes his head numbly. "No—no," he whispers and his shoulders shake as he buries his face in his hands, trying not to cry, because this cannot be happening. "K-Kush, what's g-gonna happen to us?"
Kush sighs. "Oh, Spirits, kid," he says. "If I knew, don't you think I'd have told you?"
The door of their cell suddenly slams open, and Kush leaps to his feet. Bolin wants to, but he has a feeling that if he tries to get to his feet his head will break open from the pain, or Kush will shove him back down. There are two police officers standing in the doorway—one is a man, with a gray uniform with black piping, two holsters on each side of his belt, and he has a stern face. Bolin flinches as the woman, who looks around thirty or forty years old steps forward. She frightens him a bit, because despite the black uniform with the gold piping that marks her as the Chief of Police, there are two thin scars on her right cheek that look fresh, like she'd recently gotten them in a horrible fight.
Bolin can't help but wonder if she'd gotten scarred in a fight breaking up a Triad rumble.
"Sergeant Aiki, are these two boys the ones from the tussle last night?" she asks the other man, placing her hand on her hips. Bolin can tell that she doesn't believe that he and Kush are in a rumble—they don't look particularly threatening now, after all.
Sergeant Aiki nods. "Yes, Chief, they are. Detective Jinn apprehended them at the rumble last night, along with twenty other boys and the leaders of the Triple Threats and Red Monsoons."
She raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "Must've been a very high-class rumble, then, if Hakka and Zolt bothered to show up." The Chief slowly approaches them, and Bolin scoots backwards, leaning into Kush, who—much to Bolin's surprise—doesn't push him away, but puts a steady arm around him. Maybe they both need comfort in times like these. "You two have names?"
"My name is Bolin, ma'am," Bolin says, because he always introduces himself to new people. Momma had ingrained in him the urge to always be polite, no matter what.
On the other hand, Kush remains silent and looks away, trying to remain unseen and unheard, like if he does it enough then he'll melt away entirely. Bolin remembers that Kush isn't good around police officers. Then again, it's a miracle that Bolin's words are even coming out right—he's scared out of his mind.
The Chief notices Kush blocking everyone out and turns to Bolin. "Does he have a name too?" she asks.
"My name's Kush," Kush mutters.
"Your name is Kush?" The other police officer, Sergeant Aiki, gives Kush a mean laugh—kind of like Mr. Zolt does when he hears a stupid idea. "You expect us to believe that your parents named you after a drug? Were they high when they had you?"
"I ain't got no parents," Kush retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I don't think my name is any business to some shitty cinder dick like you."
"What did you call me?" Aiki angrily yells, then comes forward, pushes Bolin away and grabs Kush by the lapels of his tattered brown shirt. Bolin is frozen with fear, and he can't make himself move to help. Kush looks blasé as he stares into the indignant face of the sergeant. "What the hell did you say to me, you piece of pond scum?"
"Sergeant Aiki, hold your tongue!" barks the Chief, sending the man a death glare. "Release the kid. Now. That's an order." Aiki releases Kush, and both of the boys give a sigh of relief. "Do you have a real name, Kush?"
Kush grunts something that sounds vulgar under his breath before muttering, "My real name's Li." Aha, Bolin thinks, feeling triumphant, so I was right. "I go by Kush." His tone dares either the Chief or the sergeant to call him his given name—like he's threatening disembowelment if they call him 'Li'.
The Chief nods. "How old are you two?"
"Nine," Bolin whispers.
"Thirteen," Kush says, spitting out his age like it physically hurts him.
"You two brothers or something?"
"We're friends," Kush says before Bolin can say something akin to 'he's not my brother, Mako is, and Mako is gonna come for me'. "We're just friends. Now why the hell do you two care?" He sniffs. "Him and I are just a couple of Triple Threat Triad members. Low-class. So why are you wasting your time on us?"
"We're wasting our time on you because we can't let you live your lives like this," the Chief says brusquely. "By the order of the United Republic, you need to be doing something useful, and since you're contributing to public disorder, you need to be rehabilitated."
"So…" Bolin's throat becomes very dry again. "So—so you're gonna put us in jail?"
"No. You're minors, you can't be thrown in jail. That's why I asked you for your age—I needed to be sure." He understands. While Bolin looks younger than he is, Kush looks even older because of the harsh life he's had to lead. It's not a bad assumption to think that Kush is over sixteen years old. "I was going to separate you, but the kid's too young. He needs some stability, so I'm taking you to the Refuge for Abandoned Children."
"No. No! Do you mean the orphanage?" Bolin whispers in disbelief. He stands up. "No! No, you can't!"
"It's for the best, kid," the Chief says grimly, and Bolin can tell that she's sincere, but that doesn't make it any better for him and Kush, does it? "You'll have a roof over your heads, good food, protection—"
"Why the hell did you think we enlisted in the Triple Threat Triads, for shits and giggles?" Kush says incredulously. "They gave us all of that—food, shelter, the whole shebang. Just let us go back to the Triads—we won't go to any more rumbles, ma'am, I swear to Tue and La, just don't send us to an orphanage."
"If I let you do that, you know how many other orphaned kids would have my hide for that?" The Chief doesn't wait for an answer. "All of them, Kush. I believe in treating everyone the same, and this is for the best. You and Bolin need this." She pauses. "And besides," she says, a hint of a smirk on her lips, "how do I know that you're not lying about not participating in any more rumbles?"
"I'm not," Kush insists. "I ain't lying, am I, kid?"
Bolin shakes his head. "No, he ain't—he isn't lying, Miss Chief."
The Chief shakes her head too. "I don't buy that. I can sense heartbeats—yours is moving a bit too fast for you to be telling the truth, kid." While Kush seems to ponder this, she continues, saying, "You need a family environment. This is the only orphanage in the city that isn't full to bursting right now."
Kush is silent. Bolin is too horrified to speak.
"Sergeant, escort them to the car," the Chief orders. "I'm sorry, boys."
"Bullshit," Kush spits, and grabs Bolin's hand as Sergeant Aiki leads the two boys out the door, and then through the police station. Bolin's never seen the inside of it before, only the outside, so he looks around and takes in the adults staring at him and Kush like they've never seen children before.
(Later, he will come to associate their awed looks with pity. And sometimes with disgust.)
They are taken to a car parked on the curb outside and buckled up securely in the backseats, while Sergeant Aiki sits up front and listens to weird music on the radio, involving something to do with girls and boys doing something that Bolin thinks is disgusting. Kush doesn't look like he cares, he keeps staring out the window like he wants to make a run for it.
Bolin wants to run away too.
The car passes through a gate in front of the orphanage, and Bolin listens to it clang shut as a man in a security uniform locks it. "It's for security," Sergeant Aiki vaguely explains as they park, exit the car and begin to walk up the front steps.
"That's real comforting, thanks," Kush says under his breath, and Bolin wonders if he's the only one who hears. As Bolin catches a glimpse of the tall fence behind him, he realizes that Kush thinks that the security isn't to protect the orphanage from outside threats.
Aiki opens the front door and Bolin is nearly bowled over by three boys chasing each other down the hallway, while noise erupts from every room in the orphanage. The entire place is gray and drab, no colors whatsoever. It feels strange, because even Bolin and Mako's room in the compound had been a little more colorful than this.
"Come on," Aiki says, gesturing for Kush and Bolin to walk forward, which they do. They walk in silence for a few moments until the police officer stops outside of a closed door and knocks. "Ma'am? I'm here with more kids!"
"Come in!" calls the person on the other side of the door, and Aiki opens the door, beckoning for the boys to follow him inside.
The room behind the door is obscenely small, like a coat closet or something. There is just enough room for a desk, two chairs in front of it, and two bookshelves on different sides of the room. Behind the desk sits an older woman with short graying hair, brown eyes, and frown lines etched on her face, making her look really old. She looks at them judgingly over a pair of spectacles, and Bolin shifts uncomfortably under her stern gaze.
"My name is Aiko Senbi," she says. "You may call me Mrs. Senbi, and use 'ma'am' when you are addressing me, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Bolin says softly.
Mrs. Senbi shifts her gaze to Kush as Aiki departs from the room. "Do you speak?" she demands, then looks over at Bolin. "Can he talk, young man?"
"Only when he wants to, ma'am," Bolin says honestly, although he can't tell whether that's being cheeky or not. It's the truth, though.
Mrs. Senbi scoffs and stands up from her desk. "Come along," she says, although it feels like an order, and Bolin and Kush follow her down the hallway past rooms that are absolutely full to bursting with bunk beds and boys around their age. She points out a cafeteria, where they eat; a study room, for schoolwork—Bolin doesn't quite know what schoolwork entails, he's never had a day of school in his life—and many others.
"What's that one's name, young man?"
Bolin looks up, seeing Mrs. Senbi looking at him expectantly. The tips of his ears heat up as he remembers the police looking skeptical at the mention of Kush's name. What if she doesn't believe him? "His name is Kush," he says. "And my name is Bolin."
"Kush." Mrs. Senbi raises her eyebrows, looking suspicious—kind of like Mako does when Bolin pulls a trick on him sometimes. She turns to Kush. "Is that really your name, young man?"
"Yes, ma'am," Kush says sullenly.
"Is that your given name?" she inquires.
"No, ma'am. My given name is Li, but I prefer to go by Kush."
She snorts. "If you insist," Mrs. Senbi says graciously before indicating a room that they are in front of. Inside, Bolin can hear muffled conversations, swearing and crashes. It doesn't sound very safe. "This will be your room, you two. Dinner is in half an hour. You may wander the building if you wish, but if you are not in the cafeteria by seven o'clock precisely, then my security guards will come and find you." She checks her watch. "Go on, boys."
They enter and sit down on the only empty bunk bed in the entire room. The boys in the room pay them no attention—they're all busy squabbling over which station the radio has to be set at, and fists are flying. Bolin doesn't know whether he should tell them that violence is never the answer, but he doesn't feel qualified. After all, he had just spent the previous night beating up Red Monsoons in a rumble for sport.
"Well, this is a holy mess," Kush announces.
Bolin can't help but agree. "Do you think Mako will come get me?" he asks.
Kush glares at him, but the glare has no anger behind it. "I don't know, Bolin," he answers. "Soon, I hope. Just be patient, will you?"
"Okay." Bolin nods, wanting so badly to believe his friend, but he can't force himself to look at the bright side this time.
This time…the good might outnumber the bad.
Oh, my boys…hate to say it, but Bolin's right. There's going to be a lot of bad stuff before the good will rise again. And don't write off Mrs. Senbi just yet—give her some time, and she might surprise you. :)
Sorry for the wait, you guys. I hope you enjoyed this enough to give me a favorite, a follow, or a review!
To be continued…
-Boa :)