Guess who started titling chapters? ME! Wonderful, isn't it? I've never really had a knack for naming chapters before, but I felt compelled to name this one. I almost added some more to this, more of fire. But I decided I should leave that for next time. I hope you all are enjoying this so far, and updates might come ever week or so.
Smiles all around. Smiles that look at him. Smiles that look over him. Smiles everywhere and Osamu holds a fake smile.
It's Umimaru's nineteenth birthday, a day of celebration throughout this small village. Everyone is knitted in a circle, smiling and singing to this boy. Singing to the nonbender. Smiling at him and giving him thanks for the times he's spent here.
Mizu's was like this, her tweleth birthday filled with joy and waterbending. But Osamu's thirteenth was spent in the house, the only celebration within their band of people. Nobody from the village was invited. When Osaum asked about that, they simply answered because he wasn't well known throughout the village and left it at that.
Umimaru comes back into their igloo, layered with items. A spear falls near the entrance of the house, and a pair of clothes sit on the top of the pile. He's leaving soon, Osamu can tell that much. He's heard the whispers from his parents, the small rumors that float around town, the way Umimaru tries so hard to take down the biggest beast on the hunts.
He's trying to prove himself.
"Umimaru," Osamu begins, searching for the words that fit correctly.
"Yes, Osamu?" the older boy asks, not looking up from the bag he is packing.
"Where will you go?"
"I've already talked to Father and Mother about it. They said it was time for me to leave, to go fight in the war. I'm going-"
"War?" Osamu interrupts, looking with curiosity as the nonbender sits next to Osamu with kind eyes.
"I should have told you earlier, about everything. About the war that's been going on for almost a hundred years. The death of loved ones. The killing of an entire art of bending. And the lost Avatar."
"Avatar? What's an Avatar?"
"You're almost fourteen, Osamu, and we've kept so much from you. We thought it'd protect you. We thought it'd keep you safe from memories. We thought so much about lying to you. But you should know everything. You should know about the war and the Fire Nation and the Avatar. You should know everything, but Mother and Father won't let me tell you. They want to keep you sheltered." His voice is low, trying hard not to let it leak into the other rooms.
"You need to know, because something is happening. Someone important is coming and you can feel it. There are rumors, so many of them that it's hard not to believe them, that the Avatar has returned."
"I still don't understand what the Avatar is? What is it?"
"He's a person, not a thing. He's someone we thought to be long dead. He's alive, though. He's full of wonder and he's alive! The Avatar is going to end this war. Going to stop the Fire Nation from killing innocent people. Everyone can feel it in the air; the day is getting closer, the day the Avatar frees us from this war."
"The day is getting closer, the day the Avatar frees us from this stupid war," another voice, one very much like the one who told him his name, rings through his head. Then the frigid water fills his mind. Cold and surrounding his being.
"Osamu?" Umimaru asks, his voice so full of concern. "Are you all right?"
The boy lies then, lies because if he tells Umimaru what he felt that night so long ago, what he remembers, he would fear him. Fear him because he's finally started to guess at who he really is. The flashes of red, the warm touch he has, the eyes that don't meet his golden orbs, the secrets of the Fire Nation and war. He's come to realize so many things in the past years. So many wonderful things. And he's seen so much, seen the death of many animals just for the sake of this village living, the blood staining his fur coat, the fire licking the ice, and the looks of this family.
"I'm fine, Umimaru. Everything is fine."
Umimaru is leaving today, Osamu thinks, watching as the older boy places his things, with the help of his father, into a canoe. They will be heading to the Northern Water Tribe, the main one, because they live a little ways off. A wonderful place, this small village is with only a few weeks of contact with the bigger family just down the ocean. With Manirak's return, he will bring supplies for the rest of the village, surprises for the young ones.
For the younger ones, this is a delight, but, to the growing Mika and Osamu, all they see is a brother off to war. A good boy who has no bending and cares for everyone.
It's decided, once Manirak hands Osamu a spear, one made of whale tooth and bone, that he will learn to hunt properly. He already knows how to kill animals, but humans, with their knowledge of dodging easily and hold on a proper weapon, are more difficult.
So, with the help of Manirak and the other children who don't already know how to fight real people, he stands, his fur coat holding on his already warm skin. Everyone else is already at work for the days chores, setting out on fishing or keeping the fire to a low flame, but never extinguishing it completely.
The other children, happy with their small spears and such, talk in joy, ready for this wonderful experience that will come close But Osamu is different, he grips with spear with a death grip and doesn't join in on the chatter. Umimaru's words from weeks before are like a manta in his head. "The day is getting closer, the day the Avatar frees us from this war."
And then the woman's so close to his words. He wonders, as Manirak talks about things, what they mean, how they speak the same words almost exactly. He wonders who that woman is, how she plays in this young boy's life.
"Osamu, you don't have a partner," someone behind him states. The boy mentioned spins around with such speed, he doesn't notice when he knocks the person behind him down. Another boy, Osamu's age, stands still, not frightened by the speed Osamu turned around with, his spear hanging by his side. "You need a partner, Osamu," the boy says again.
"For what?" Osamu replies, not paying attention to the instructions his adoptive father gave him.
"We're to fight against one another with the end of our spears, only for a few minutes, though." The boy who is to be his partner fixes his icy blue eyes on the boy before him, doing something hardly anyone before him has done. A small breeze comes through, fighting its way through the thick clothes of the villagers.
"Yana, right?" Osamu asks, taking a jab in the dark as he asks the boy his name. He nods while taking his stance, his gloved fingers moving on the bone surface smoothly.
As the two of them spar, slipping a few times on snow and ice, Osamu comes to the conclusion that, if he ever fought with a sword, it would be much different. There would be quick spins and falls of the swords, jabs and a shorter range than that of a spear. Osamu almost stops in his tracks, wondering where he got the images of the sword fighter from.
A memory long gone, he guesses.