Episode VII: Bumi and the Fever
97 years ago (Bumi age 16), early summer.
--
Bumi snipped away at Mipsie's wet fur while she slept, cutting out knots and tangles months in forming. Immediately after their daring escape, Bumi had led the beast to the nearest manhole, earthbended it wide enough for them to pass, and guided her inside. Nobody had tried to stop them (no doubt having been afraid of being trampled by several thousand pounds of loping mammal) and, though Bumi was sure there would be witnesses aplenty, Omashu's labyrinthine sewer system was a fine place to lose one's pursuers.
They had bolted down the filthy wet tunnels, turning corners in an apparently random and inexplicably complicated route that Bumi had laid out the previous day. Bumi and Mipsie had woven their way through some of the most dangerous parts of the sewers (relying on experience and bulk, respectively, to keep from being swept away by the current). By the time they had emerged from another manhole in Lower Omashu they were out of breath and dripping with sewage, but Bumi had felt fairly sure they were at least temporarily safe.
They had run madly to their destination nonetheless. When one was stealing goods, one had to be cautious. When one was stealing animals large enough to swallow a man whole, one had to be more cautious still.
Bumi had thought long and hard the previous day about what he was going to do with Mipsie after he had released her, but had eventually come up with a solution he was quite proud of indeed. There was a large husbandry facility on the west side of town. Though it was in Lower Omashu (so it could be close to the gates, for convenience), it catered almost exclusively to the very wealthy. Merchants and barons and high-class folk of all sorts would pay to house their most prized mounts, usually thoroughbred ostrich-horses. Trained stablehands would brush their luxurious coats, shine their talons with expensive polish, feed them whatever peculiar diet their owners demanded (no matter how ridiculously opulent or unhealthy), and generally treat the beasts to accommodations far superior to those of the neighboring peasants.
It was perfect. Nobody had even raised an eyebrow (except, perhaps, in curiosity as to why they were coated in sewage) when Bumi had led Mipsie into the stables, nor when he had insisted on helping them care for her, nor even when he had asked that she be kept secret from any visitors. It was all in a day's work, apparently, and so long as Bumi's money was good, they were not going to complain.
So Bumi and two others undertook the colossal task of cleaning Mipsie. Her long fur was stained and clumped with all manner of unsavory material but though she was weak from exhaustion and malnourishment, it still required all three of them (and some tranquilizer-laced food) to separate the two infants from her chest. She nearly tore one of the worker's arms off at first, but calmed when she eventually realized they meant her offspring no harm.
The three beasts were washed in a tremendous stone pool, fed a meal of fruit and meat, and led to a roomy stable in which to rest. They were visibly relieved and as soon as Mipsie had reclaimed her babies, all three fell asleep amongst a pile of hay.
While she slept, Bumi and the two stable hands set to work dressing Mipsie's wounds and trimming her matted coat. Bumi sat on her massive flank with a pair of hand shears, feeling himself rise several feet with her every breath. Her hand was bandaged where she had lacerated it against the cage bars and her horns, cracked and decaying from disease, were filed down to their bases.
--
Bumi was dead on his feet as he stumbled through the streets. Hours of digging followed by a long run followed in turn by a few more hours of beast cleaning and, finally, another hour of handing two-dozen exotic pets our to local street children, all on top of two days without sleep, had left him exhausted and groggy. He felt woozy and unbalanced and had to concentrate to place each step. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Just a few more blocks and he would be on his roof (he had moved some months back to a different roof a few levels above his old one). The bright sunlight felt painful to his eyes and all Bumi wanted to do was sleep. He just had to get home. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.
As Bumi staggered past the pingnu bar, however, a crowd caught his eyes. It was not rare to see throngs of people gathering to appreciate some unique street performer or perhaps cheer for a fight, but the crowd's mood was decidedly off. They were not clapping or braying with laughter, but rather exchanging subdued, fearful comments. A pair of guards arrived on the scene and the crowd parted to let them through.
His curiosity got the better of him and Bumi pushed his way through the mass of gawkers to see what the fuss was all about. He gasped.
A man dressed in a dirty Earth Army uniform was slumped against the side of the bar while one of the guards knelt to check his pulse. The fellow was quite plainly dead and the guard sadly shook his head to confirm as much. The dead man's hands were pale and dried blood darkened his padded undershirt. He had been dead for some hours, Bumi decided. He leaned in for a closer look. When one of the guards removed the helmet and Esto's broken head lolled back on its spine, Bumi cried out in surprise. He backed up in horror and guilt, pressing his way back through the crowd. An avalanche of pain muddied thoughts poured through his skull and his mouth felt dry. No… No, no. It couldn't be…
He had gotten Esto killed… He had led an innocent man to his death. There was blood on his hands. Bumi kept backing up until he struck a wall and fell against it, still shuddering in terror. He tried to deny it, tried to escape the realization, but his mind worked against him. A person had been killed following Bumi's plans. It was his fault, all his fault. He tried to justify it, look at it from a different angle. It had been a good plan, right? Bumi wouldn't have sent Esto on anything he thought was dangerous, right? It was not working. Bumi could not escape the truth. Someone had seen them. Someone knew, and had killed Esto. Bumi had killed Esto. Bumi was a murderer. What would happen to him?
A distant crack sounded. It sounded like earth striking earth, like earthbenders fighting. A sickening revelation struck Bumi. Whoever had killed Esto had thrown him in front of the bar on purpose, as a warning or threat. They knew Esto had been there, and therefore they must have known that Bumi had been there with him. Bumi was in danger. Everyone close to Bumi was in danger. Another thunderous crack sounded. Bumi's eyes widened and he felt sicker still.
"Kihni…" he breathed.
--
Bumi cleared the few blocks to Kihni's shop in record time. At this point, he was not at all surprised to see the front half of it collapsed in on itself, having been torn asunder by an earthbender, nor a pair of men tossing bundles of fine fabrics into the dirty streets. Shouting and the sound of breaking objects came from its depths. Wasting no time to curse himself nor worry about what might await him, Bumi made for one of the gaping holes in the storefront, kicking stone rubble out of his path as he went.
One of the men took notice, dropped the goods he was befouling, and rounded on Bumi. He darted forward to grab Bumi's wrist, only to be rewarded with a similar maneuver to the one he had performed on Hun a few days prior. The man's armor provided little real protection and, had Bumi not been in such a thoroughly despairing mood, he would have cackled with glee at the heavy whump of stone against groin.
The man let out an anguished growl but, miraculously, remained standing. He swore loudly and drew a knife from his boot. Bumi scrambled to get through an opening in the debris. Almost there… The man brandished his dagger and swiped clumsily at Bumi, barely missing the boy's foot as he crawled into the destroyed shop. The man reached a hand through the crevasse into which Bumi had escaped.
Inside the shop, Bumi felt a strong grip grab his ankle. He punched the wall of collapsed stone and it came thundering down, crushing the man's outstretched arm along with it. Bumi ignored the pained cry.
The shop was a terrible mess. Racks of clothing had been torn down or collapsed and the stone bench formerly in the shop's back corner was cloven into pieces. Large holes in the ceiling let sunlight stream through, and the wooden beams that had previously lined the attic were splintered liberally about the room. Bumi could hear Kihni shouting in the back and ran to her aid.
He found her in the kitchen cornered by a short man in black and green. His long hair was tied in an elegant braid that lay against his back as he jabbed a sword threateningly at the old woman. A golden hyenavark was stitched into the back of his leather jerkin.
The man was laughing and jeering, taunting Kihni as he kept her at bay with the sharp tip of his sword. Occasionally he'd swing it into a nearby cabinet, or the table, or into the wicker chair in which Kihni often sat, leaving long, destructive gashes in Kihni's beloved home. She looked horrified. Bumi grabbed a large brick from a nearby pile of rubble, slapped the man's studded helmet to the side, and before he could turn around brought the brick quite forcefully onto the top of the man's skull. He went down without complaint.
Bumi stood, panting, over the man's still body. He dropped the brick and looked at Kihni. Her face only steadily softened as she recovered from shock and struggled to catch her breath.
"Bumi…" she said, concerned. The look on Bumi's face was one of such misery that at first she found it hard to reconcile. He did not go to her.
"I'm sorry," he croaked on the verge of tears.
--
Bumi pushed the man's unconscious form unceremoniously into the sewers, listening to it impact with a satisfying splash. In the sliver of sunlight that peeked down through the manhole, Bumi could barely make out a dark shape flowing downhill on the river of sludge. He replaced the cover, plunging the sewers into darkness.
His arms ached from dragging the man's heavy body and he felt sickly and light-headed. His mind struggled to piece itself back together while he fingered the notched gold piece he had taken from the man's pockets. It was an order from a high-ranking Consortium member, but the third notch was peculiar; he had never seen a coin like this before. He had a good guess, however, as to its translation.
What was he to do? The men had caught and killed Esto and, no doubt hoping to catch Bumi as well, had attacked Kihni's shop. The two he had left outside had been chased off by guards by the time he had emerged, but there was no telling what manner of damage they might have done before, nor what damage their companions might be doing at that very moment. If they had known of Bumi's connection with Kihni, they most certainly would know of Shou…
--
Nobody was home when Bumi finally launched his way through Shou's door, gasping and struggling to maintain his balance. He leaned on the doorframe for purchase and shouted Shou's name over and over, but no answer was forthcoming.
Bumi caught his breath, steeled himself, and released his iron grip on the doorframe. He promptly fell over. He rose shakily to his feet and staggered into the house, propping himself up on furniture as he went. He inspected every room but found nothing. No sign of any sort of confrontation, and yet no sign of Shou either. The one thing out of place was one of Shou's paintings, lying in tatters on the floor. Bumi had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Shou was gone. He had not been able to save him. Tears flowed from his eyes and Bumi slumped down on the floor. He fingered one of the pieces of torn canvas idly. All was lost.
No, all was not lost. Bumi shook his head to clear the fatigue. He had to think. Shou was not necessarily dead. He could have simply been out of the house, off meeting with some potential buyer. He had not seen Shou in two days; he had been preoccupied with rescuing the animals and had forgotten his promise to return. Bumi struggled to remember what deals they had in progress, tried to guess what Shou might have been up to that didn't involve being tortured or lying dead in an alley somewhere. He couldn't think of anything.
He needed rest. He could not keep going on like this; he had to sleep. Even if Shou was captured somewhere, Bumi could do nothing about it in this state. And then there was the matter of eluding any potential murderers that might still be after Bumi himself. He had to get somewhere to rest.
Bumi managed to stagger out of the house, his mind muddied. He closed the door behind him and earthbended a shelf of rock behind it, effectively bracing it shut. He wrote HIDE in imposing letters on the back of one of the painting fragments and slipped it into the doorjamb.
--
Bumi did not quite make it back to the stables, and instead collapsed heavily to the sandy street some forty feet away, unconscious.
--
There are many varieties of sleep and few of them are restful. There is, of course, the deep, dream-filled sleep that leaves its participants rejuvenated, if a little hesitant, when the time comes to awaken. This was not the manner of sleep Bumi engaged in now (nor even very frequently).
Bumi straddled the blurry line between delusional consciousness and haunting unsleep. His body and part of his mind screamed out for rest, pleaded with him to settle himself, but he could not. His obsessive brain was fixed in an endless loop, and though it had long since stopped offering anything of value, it insisted on churning out its meaningless conclusions over and over again. Each attempt his body made to wrest control and calm down was quickly disrupted as he riled back to his self-destructive mental activity.
His mind was abuzz with images. The usual culprits showed up in force; endless, uncontrolled imaginings of a simple problem that needed solving. Maybe a door that needed closing, for instance, or perhaps an impractical math problem. It would go like this: He would shut the door. It would reopen. He would shut the door again. It would reopen. He would shut the door more forcefully and lean on it this time, desperately willing it to be still. It would reopen. No matter how many times his mind closed the door, it would reopen. He did not know why he insisted on shutting the door. He would eventually escape the door and stumble into the math problem. He had five white, furry beasts, but only three stables. How might he arrange five into three? He would set to calculating. By the time he had figured out the numbers he wanted, however, he would find himself back at the door, beasts forgotten. He'd forget his numbers and resume his battle with the door for a while. What had he been doing? Ahh yes, the beasts and their pens. It was a vicious cycle, and one that Bumi as well used to.
Of course, it was worse when one was troubled already, and worse yet when one was also feeling the early effects of an animal-borne illness. A door that refused to stay closed was harmless enough, but when Esto's life came to depend on that door remaining shut it took on a more frightening quality. Guilt and fear gnawed at Bumi while he struggled to fall asleep or wake up. Horrific images assailed his mind. Who would die next? He would try to decide if he were actually asleep and merely dreaming or actually awake and really seeing what he thought he saw; in unsleep, the line between real and fantasy was terrifyingly insubstantial.
--
It took Bumi a very long time to realize he was awake. His frequent matches with unsleep had an irritating habit of arriving and leaving only gradually, so to ruin as much of his day as possible. Eventually, though, his mind started to operate again and could sort the images. This had not happened yet, and therefore this was impossible, and so on.
He felt terrible. A thin film of cold sweat clung to his forehead. Fluid sloshed about in cavities in his head he had not realized he possessed; it felt like a reservoir of mucus. A rubbery brick of tingling flesh pressed painfully against the back of his brain and eyes. He was still tired. Had he not slept? Why was he so tired? Bumi sat up and immediately regretted it.
Bumi blinked repeatedly, still trying to place himself in the world. It was dark and quiet, no doubt the middle of the night. He was seated next to a stone wall, having apparently been moved from where he had collapsed in the middle of the road. He checked his pockets. The coin was still there; he had not been robbed. Perhaps he had simply been in someone's way, or perhaps someone had pitied him and moved him out of the oppressive sun. Bumi pitied himself.
Seeing the stables in the distance, Bumi rose shakily to his feet and stumbled, zombie-like, towards them. He staggered inside, felt his way to Mipsie's cell, and collapsed on the nearest bale of hay, again to fight the unsleep.
--
Bumi flitted in and out of consciousness for an indeterminable length of time. Occasionally he'd awaken during a particularly gruesome coughing fit, drenched in sweat. His stomach would be churning spasmodically, demanding that he puke despite the many hours that had passed since his last meal. He would lean on the hand rail and try to oblige it for a bit, then return to his haunting, guilty dreams.
He was dimly aware of being picked up and placed somewhere warmer, but by whom and for what reason he did not have the means to discern. Occasionally voices would speak to him, but they felt distant and unimportant.
--
Bumi awoke to the sound of Shou's voice. This was nothing new, considering that Shou had been speaking to him, in a certain sense, for some time now. What was different, however, was that Bumi could understand the words.
"I am looking for a boy," Shou said to someone. Bumi listened more carefully.
"Teenaged, tall, long hair, green eyes. You seen him?"
"Yes! He is here. We have been worried about him. Are you his father?" Another voice, unrecognizable, responded. Bumi inhaled deeply. He blinked rapidly, shook his head a little. No swirling colors were forthcoming. He was not hallucinating.
"Guardian, anyway. What's wrong with him?" Shou asked, voice steadily becoming louder.
"He is very sick. Delusional, won't talk to anyone. We tried to get him to a healer but his beast won't let anyone near him."
"Let me see him." Bumi tried to rise and found it impossible. He grimaced and tried again. Again impossible. He took the opportunity to notice the gigantic arm that was clamped securely around his waist. It was quite sturdily attached to Mipsie's equally gigantic torso, against which he was propped. He heard a squeak to his left, turned to look, and found himself staring into the inquisitive face of one of the twins, clinging to its mother's stomach. It squeaked cheerfully. As she slept, Mipsie's broad chest expanded and contracted like a living pillow (albeit a lumpy pillow knotted with musculature).
Bumi reached down and tried to pry Mipsie's grip apart. Her salami sized fingers held fast. He tried again, working the front of his shirt carefully through her closed fist and would have escaped if she had not shifted in her sleep, recapturing him. Bumi's head rolled back against her in exasperation.
Bumi turned his head to watch as the door to Mipsie's cell opened, revealing a very worried looking Shou. The door swung closed behind him. There was the slightest surprised halt in Shou's gait as he saw Bumi's peculiar choice of beds, but he quickly recovered.
"Bumi," he asked gently, "are you alright?" Bumi met his eyes. He was immensely relieved to see Shou alive and well, but ashamed of himself for the having been so weak and frightened, at the mercy of his dreams for so long.
"Yes," Bumi croaked dishonestly, though it sounded broken and weak even to him. Shou didn't look fooled.
"Do you need to see a doctor?" he prodded.
"No."
They just stared at each other for a moment. Bumi felt Mipsie's hand slacken and shift, bumping him painfully in the stomach. The dull physical pain was the final proverbial straw when heaped upon Bumi's guilt and fears. The weight of recent days' trials pushed Bumi past his limit and, despite his best efforts, he began to cry.
"I'm sorry, Shou," Bumi bawled. "You were right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Shou looked astonished as Bumi slipped out of the beast's grip and stumbled towards him.
"For what? What happened?" he asked, thoroughly confused. He stood just fast enough to catch Bumi as the boy tripped into him.
"I was wrong and somebody died!" Bumi roared into Shou's shoulder, body shuddering. "I killed somebody and I could have killed you and Kihni!" His sobbing woke Mipsie, who whirled onto her feet in an instant. She regarded the intruder with a deep, throaty growl, head ducked low to the ground and left arm wrapped protectively around her offspring.
Shou guided Bumi onto the seat next to him. The boy was inconsolable.
"Tell me what happened," he ordered. Through much sniffling and tears Bumi told him the story; how he had convinced Esto to steal business from the Consortium, how he had seen Esto's battered body, how he had rushed to save his friends, and the frightful period afterwards. Shou listened to it all without comment.
Bumi finished his tale and stared dejectedly at the ground. His crying had subsided, somewhat, but he continued to moan and sob under his breath. Mipsie growled away in the background like an engine.
"Bumi…" Shou said. Bumi ignored him. "Bumi, that's enough!" he shouted, causing both Bumi and Mipsie to quiet in surprise. He grabbed Bumi's shoulders and forced the boy to look at him.
"This isn't like you, Bumi. This is stupid. Do you really think sitting here killing yourself is going to bring that man back?" Bumi hung his head in shame. He knew Shou was right, but wasn't particularly interested in hearing what he had to say.
"You put an innocent man in danger he did not understand and it cost him his life. That is a terrible thing to have happened, but did you kill this man?" Bumi shook his head no. "Did you believe that there was a chance he would have died?" Bumi shook his head again. "Would you have felt safe going in his place?" Bumi nodded.
"It was an accident, Bumi. Nothing will bring him back to life, but you must forgive yourself. You will never be the same person again. Whether you will be worse or better is up to you, though. Learn from your mistakes. Stop tempting fate. Stop gambling with peoples' lives, including your own. Choose to stand up against the injustice in the world, against wicked men like the Consortium. Do you understand me?"
Bumi nodded slowly. Shou hugged him.
"Alright. Let's get you cleaned up."
--
At Shou's insistence, Bumi jumped into the stone pool where he and the stablehands had washed Mipsie, clothes and all. The cold water felt extremely refreshing and Bumi swam a few lazy laps, cleaning the several days' worth of grime from his body.
He emerged feeling better than he had in a long time. The image of Esto's limp neck and skull flitted periodically through his mind, but he felt an immense psychological burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He also felt famished.
Shou took him to a nearby restaurant and bought him a bland meal, which he consumed with much gusto. They talked. Shou told him about how he had never been attacked (the ruined painting had been his own doing, he admitted, embarrassed) and how he had needed to break into his own house. He described how he had become worried about Bumi after not seeing him for a few days, and eventually found him only when an unexplainable bill from the stables was mailed to him. Bumi listened ashamedly, but Shou insisted over and over again that nothing bad had happened and all was forgiven. The mood at the table steadily brightened and, at Shou's request, Bumi set to describing what little he knew about Mipsie. Shou had never seen an animal like her either and the two of them speculated for a time about where she had come from. By the time they were done, Bumi had a broad smile on his face.
After their meal, Shou seemed to want to keep an eye on the boy to prevent him from immediately launching back into his hi-jinx.
"But Shoooouuuu…." Bumi whined, "I still haven't had a chance to play with Mipsie." Shou looked dubious.
"Really! I've been too sick!" Shou narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Alright…" he said at length, "you can go free… But only if you promise not to stay out tonight."
"Deal."
"You've missed classes, so you have studying to do. Where I can see you. At my house."
"Deal."
"Right before dinner."
"Right after dinner," Bumi countered. There was a pause as Shou no doubt tried to guess how much trouble Bumi could get in before dinner. He finally relented.
"Deal."
--
Bumi returned to the stables. He had been telling the truth; it really was the first time he'd had a chance to play with Mipsie without one of them feeling too sick. She tackled him enthusiastically as soon as he entered the room. Being back in her cell brought Bumi's uncomfortable memories back to the front of his mind, but he staved them off by playing fetch with a large bone one of the stablehands had provided. Each time he threw it, Mipsie would launch across the room, pin the bone against the ground and gnaw at it savagely for a few seconds, apparently convinced that it would dash off if it were not properly strangled, then hold it proudly aloft in her toothy maw. She would dance just out of Bumi's reach for a while until Bumi tricked her and stole the bone back, which he'd then throw again.
As they played, a new train of thought took root in Bumi's mind. Shou's words echoed loudly in his head.
Mipsie bounded victoriously towards him, her footsteps shaking the stone floor, and Bumi was convinced.
"Hey Mipsie…" he said conversationally. She slid to a stop almost immediately and stared at Bumi, head cocked to the side at an inquisitive angle. Two dark faces peeked from her belly fur with similar confused expressions.
"Any chance you want to pay the Consortium a visit?" Bumi asked. Mipsie and her twins simultaneously cocked their heads in the other direction.
"You heard Shou," Bumi reminded them, grinning. "We have to stand up against people like the Consortium." Their heads pitched back again.
"That's right," he confirmed. "I have a plan."
--
A/N: Another chapter! I believe this large episode (ie the 16 year old portion of this story) and indeed this entire story arc (ie Bumi's black market childhood) will be concluded in the next chapter. Stay tuned; the next chapter should be up in a few days.
Along the same vein, if you have any ideas/requests/etc for the story, don't hesitate to voice them. This story is ultimately episodic, and I could easily work in all sorts of side storylines.
I'm pretty sure this is my least favorite chapter so far, but I'm sick of messing with it. I don't usually insert this much drama into anything I do, so I'm treading on unfamiliar ground, so to speak. The musings on sleep are very much based on first hand experience, however, so if Bumi seems a little bit crazy, then I'm crazy too.
Finally, my obligatory threat to garner a few more reviews… Let's see… How about, "review or face the perils of unsleep"? Yeah, I guess that works. (If you are lucky enough not to know what unsleep is, take my word for it: this is a very serious threat)
