Earth. Fire. Air. Water.

Only the Avatar can master all four elements and bring balance to the world.

Agni Kai leader Asokin was captured by the United Forces after an unsuccessful attack by self-proclaimed greatest bloodbender in the world, Shakku of the Red Monsoons. In split-second timing Korra unleashed the Avatar State, airbending her boyfriend Mako into the wall. While Koko has returned to her father, she wields a power that's going to show up in your nightmares tonight, folks: Bloodbending without the full moon. How? Why? Stay tuned, folks, because in this game, blood is thicker than water.

血

Book Two

Blood

Chapter Four

Broken Ties

Quiet splashes. Darkness. Somewhere, a flute plays, the tunes trembling, out of tune, fear stolen in the heart of whoever is playing it. The stench of rotting sewage and decaying corpses swells under the fragrance of cooking meat and ceremonial herbs, incenses set ablaze at the behest of a mystic, a guru, a man who claims to hear the spirits yet hears nothing but the jingle of gullible coin in his pocket and the rustle of ill-gotten yuans traded for lies. Shadows flutter across the brackish water languishing at the bottom of the sewer, lapping at the metal sides marked with various symbols, most depicting a stylised shark rat. The shadows never seemingly touch the water, their entire purpose merely to float, the liquid parting below their wraithlike robes.

A single torch glows in a ghostly hand, casting a sickly yellow light upon the cyan surroundings, the dark-skinned phantoms gliding, at last, to pause near a stone archway amid the sewers, the waves under their feet reflected in bluish green upon the ceiling, moving stripes waving like the northern lights. The torchbearer lifts a fist and taps roughly on the ice door leading inside.

Within an instant, it melts, the fresh water immediately mingling with the dirty brown of the sewage.

The wraith floats inside, clawed hands removing the heavy red hood to reveal a mortal man, his grey eyes reflecting the water spilling over the inner chamber, rivulets of ice running through it and merging in a glassy stem that unfolds into a great ice flower, the petals intricately carved and curling in on themselves, lovely and cold and unmistakably cruel, the edges razor-ship and prepared to slice into any who dare touch the wild beauty. Seated in the centre of this throne is a little girl of perhaps ten, her eyes closed, her face carrying an expression more peaceful and serene than thought imaginable.

The man swallows visibly, the lump in his throat bobbing up and down, awed at the power of her bending: To be able to keep all of the ice frozen in such delicate patterns requires great skill indeed, and it is almost unfair for the strength to reside in the body of such a girl.

"Koko," the man calls, his voice muted, the sounds stolen by the ice. "Your father has returned. Koko, the creature from the Agni Kais has been captured. For you." The girl does not reply to this news of her kidnapper's kidnapping. "Not by us, you understand, but by the police."

His companion walks in hesitantly behind him. "The cops won't punish him," he admits, "but we will get him back, and we will punish him." He smiles, gazing at the ice throne, admiring the girl's abilities.

Still the girl says nothing.

The torchbearer stirs uneasily, the room beginning to chill him through to his bones. "Shakku requests your presence in his chambers immediately. He wishes to sacrifice a shark rat to the spirits in exchange for allowing him to escape victoriously last night."

At last the girl opens her eyes, wide and innocent and blue as robinjay eggs. Her unspoken question hovers in the air, prompting the second man to answer hastily: "He escaped from the Avatar herself, the chief of police, and the General of the United Forces! Yes, a few of his men died—" The torchbearer stiffens and steps backwards, feeling the sudden coldness of the water. "—but he got out alive, see? The spirits listened to the sacrifice."

Her lips curve into a smile, one that sends a chill down the torchbearer's spine.

Fluidly the girl slides from the icy flower and slips into the icy water. Behind her, the throne descends like a toppled city, sinking into the water from which it sprang.

"Is she going to be okay?"

"My mother did all she could. Korra is going to be fine."

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely one-hundred-percent certain, no take-backs, no nothing?"

"Korra is going to be fine, Bolin. Please, calm down."

The voices drift across her mind, confusing her, her thoughts clouded, foggy, slow. Steadily she becomes aware of her own surroundings: Warmth, softness, what feels like a blanket over her, a pillow under her head. Her hair is down, her boots off. The scent of breakfast—rice—causes her to groggily lift her eyelids. Her vision is blurred at first, but she sees patterns of light, orange and green and white among them. It solidifies: A red and orange robe, one she recognises, one she hoped to see. Beyond that, the hazy outline of a window.

"Aang?"

"Korra!"

Powerful arms scoop her up in a tight embrace. Abruptly her head is nearly split in half with a pulse of pain that ricochets through it. Leaning over her, Bolin—she'd know that voice from anywhere—hugs her, pressing her face against his chest, and she can see the veins in his arms, the muscles standing out as they usually do. As much as she appreciates Bolin's company, she feels a strange twinge of disappointment that Mako isn't here; last time she awoke by herself in her room, Mako was the one holding her hand, cradling it like his touch was the only tether tying her to this world. But he doesn't appear to be here now. A warm bundle squeaks in Bolin's shirt and moves against Korra, scrabbling up his chest and leaping out to land on Korra's shoulder, Pabu's fluffy tail brushing against her nose and making her sneeze. As her headache fades, she pushes him away gently, lurching up into a sitting position and reaching up to rub her temples. His green eyes are filled with concern and . . . no, no, it can't be that. It's friendship. Yes, friendship. "Hey Bolin," she manages, hiding her disappointment for his sake.

"Hey Korra." Bolin settles back on the edge of her bed, tapping his index fingers against each other. "How are you doing, tough girl?"

She tries a laugh, pulling the blanket off of her, a shiver racing down her spine as though from a nightmare. "Toughing it out, I guess." Her gaze shifts to the airbending master standing next to the bed. Not Aang, but Tenzin.

"Are you all right, Korra?" He makes to stroke his beard but seems to decide against it, placing his hand on the pillow instead. "Do you remember what happened?"

Korra blinks, noticing the hair holders lying next to her head and snatching them up. Sitting up straight, she begins to fix her hair, wishing she had a mirror but resolving to deal with the quick fix-it she does. "I feel fine." Other than the lingering headache, she doesn't feel sore or achy anywhere except for the tiniest thread of pain through her right arm. "What do you mean, what happened? Last thing I remember was being at Narook's with Bolin." She glances at him, whose eyebrows are slanted downwards, her own reflection visible in the emerald liquid of his eyes, and it rushes back to her in an instant. Agni Kais. Red Monsoons. The plan. The warehouse. The tunnel. Tahno, Iroh, Beifong. The ice in her arm. The waterbender. Mako. The Avatar State.

Green.

She gasps loudly, her hand fluttering to her temple. "I went—and the Avatar State—and you—and Mako—and Mako—" The air slice into his stomach. She can remember the motion, her arm swiping diagonally, the jet of wind razor-sharp. And Mako . . . slammed into a wall. . . . Korra leaps up from the bed, throwing her arms out for balance, and Bolin catches her wrist, helping her firm her stance. Desperation on her face, she turns her head rapidly between Bolin and Tenzin. "Is he okay?" Her entire world is concentrated on the thought of him brokenly lying on a hospital bed somewhere. Or worse. "Where is he?"

"Hey." Bolin blinks and puts his hands on his hips. Pabu scurries down Korra's arm to jump onto the earthbender's shoulder and onto his head, nestling into the black hair. "Are you telling me I wouldn't be the first one at my big bro's side if something happened to him?" She frowns. "Trust me, he's okay."

"He's perfectly fine, Korra," Tenzin answers immediately. His eyebrows fly so far up his face that they would have disappeared had he had hair. "Korra, calm down. No one was hurt. Mako is in the guest room, recovering from his injuries."

Her breath whistles through her teeth. "His injuries?"

Bolin lifts his hands and grins reassuringly. "He didn't break anything or anything. Katara patched him up. He just had a couple bad cuts is all." He reaches up to scratch Pabu behind the ears. "Mako's okay."

The relief that channels through her almost makes her fall over, her legs no longer able to support her, but Korra forces herself to stand properly, inhaling. She touches her hair ornaments to ensure they're in place, then exhales. "I want to see him."

Tenzin nods, his features tightening as his voice lowers to a grave tone. "Korra, I need to talk to you about your Avatar State later. Lin told me about your lack of mastery."

The memory of being unable to fight the power washing through her is bitterness on her tongue. Ashamed, Korra looks away. "I know I failed. I thought I could control it." Abruptly she notices that Bolin is gazing at her with the most curious expression on his face, an odd expression, a mixture of awe and that one look that has to be friendship. Definitely friendship. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

He cringes, hurt, his irises liquid. "Sorry, I was just—you don't remember what happened after you went Avatar State, do you?"

"What do you mean?" She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms, her eyes hardening into ice. "Of course I remember! I remember slamming Mako into a wall. I need to make sure my boyfriend is okay!"

Korra immediately regrets her choice of language, the pain on Bolin's face nearly shattering her heart in face, his spirit torn open and raw, already bleeding on the ground, and she just kicked him when he was down. "Bolin, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Bolin shakes his head and walks backwards, his lower lip quivering, grasping Pabu off of his head and cradling the fire ferret like a child. "It's okay," he says hollowly, gaze trained on Pabu's twitching nose. "Don't worry about me. Just go check upon him. Go."

A hand on her shoulder. Tenzin clears his throat, clearly awkward in the situation. "Korra, come. We have many things to discuss." She hesitates, and his grip tightens. "And I'm afraid I have to report some bad news. Asokin has been captured, but Shakku managed to escape . . . as did his daughter."

The racetrack behind the Sato mansion stretches over the expanse of green, the grey road winding never-endingly about the rolling hills, wildflowers blooming here and there on the Sato grounds, a mixture of red, blue, and gold with sprinklings of white and violet interspersed amongst them. Out of nowhere the primal roar of a satomobile. As the Eel Hound eats up the distance in record time, the racing animal painted on the side an accurate illustration of its monster speed, Asami accelerates it even further, daring to take it past the limit. She feels the pedal begin to resist her, glances at her speed marker through the green tint of her goggles, and floors it. The satomobile surges forward, taking her with it, the wind lifting her hair back like a banner proclaiming her joy. With a pang of disappointment Asami realises that she is nearly at the end of the track; considering trying another time around to check the Eel Hound's stamina as well—something Bolin wanted to do last time but couldn't—she calls off the bets when she sees the messenger waiting for her by the stands.

Moving down through the gears, she applies the brake and pulls up next to him, sweeping the helmet from her head and allowing her full mane of hair to fall upon her shoulders. A name finds itself in her mind: Chen. "M-morning Miss S-sato," he stutters, holding a telegram in a shaking hand. "F-for you."

Raising an eyebrow, Asami accepts the telegram gratefully and uncurls it, a smile stealing across her face, but then she becomes sombre. "Chen, would you mind responding for me?"

"Of c-course. W-what would y-you like me t-to s-send?"

Asami folds the telegram and catches it between her index and middle fingers. "'As much as I would like to accept this dinner invitation, Iroh, I'm going to Air Temple Island tonight to visit my friend.'" She remembers carrying Korra back from the safe-room, combining her strength with Bolin's. Raising her head, the heiress smoothes the front of her racing outfit. "'But I'll take you up on the offer tomorrow night.'"

The normally open window has been tightly closed, though an underscore of waves from Yue Bay still travels through it. "No, shush, let me care take of that for you, you poor dear." Lifting the empty cup of tea and placing it onto her tray, Pema clucks her tongue as she returns to fluffing up the white pillow. Lying on the bed and fiddling , Mako smiles gratefully at the air acolyte busily fussing over him like a mother possum hen. She puts another plate of sweets onto the bed beside him, the steam rising tantalisingly from the golden-brown pastry, the red whip of cream and jelly light and springy on the top. "Would you like a fruit pie?"

"Thank you," he offers, a smile on his face.

Seeing the scene unfolding before her, Korra crosses her arms, walking into the room—one of the guest rooms, she knows. As much as she wanted to see him, actually seeing him is a different matter; she hates how much he is enjoying the attention from Pema. For some reason it disgusts her, but she reminds herself that she loves him.

And she threw him into a wall.

With airbending.

The shame roils in her stomach; the air in the room feels unbearably cold, frosting over her skin its icy chill. Desperate to move, Korra barges in between Pema and Mako, his amber eyes widening when he notices her presence at last. Her hip bumps against the bed, and the plate holding the fruit pie slips off. Swinging her arm, Korra tries to use earthbending to return it, but she can't, and it shatters on the ground, loud enough to cause her to wince. "Sorry about that, Pema," she stammers, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Without pausing to help pick up the broken pieces, she spins around and glances at Mako, expecting a wave or a hello or a hug from her boyfriend.

Her heart nearly stops when she sees his expression, his eyes not wide from surprise or happiness but from . . . fear.

Mako pushes himself backwards on the bed, the blanket and sheets scrunching as he scrambles away from her, pure terror contorting his features, his breaths abruptly rapid and shallow, his chest rising and falling quickly enough to be visible.

Pema's hand flies to her mouth. "Mako, what's going on? Korra?"

"Pema, can you leave me and Mako alone for a few minutes?" She fights to keep her voice level.

"I don't know if that's a good . . ." Her words trail off when Korra looks at her, her blank gaze apparently filled with the grief of what may yet be, and the air acolyte quits the room in a hurry, lifting her skirt-like robe slightly as she leaves. Korra shifts towards Mako again, her right boot brushing against a shard of pottery; it cracks under the weight of her body.

Her skin clammy, she stares at the mattress, examining the pattern of shadow upon it, then the pillow, her vision travelling steadily towards him but just dropping short. The unadulterated fear on his face. . . .

Her fault.

She knows it's her fault, and that makes it all the worse. Out of nowhere, keeping her gaze riveted to the bed, Korra wishes she still had earthbending, if only so that she could force the earth to swallow her whole and hide there forever so that she never has to face Mako again.

But she forces herself to lift her head to look at him.

He has pressed himself against the headboard, his arms raised defensively in front, readying himself to be attacked. Like she were Amon.

"Mako?" If she could she would rip her voice out and replace it with one not half so wavering and afraid. "Mako, I'm not going to hurt you."

His hand reflexively touches his stomach, where a small bulge can be seen under his shirt, clearly a bandage of some sort. "Last time you did that—that thing—with the glowing eyes—" She watches him struggle to keep himself calm, inhaling and exhaling quickly but not as quickly as before. "You airbent me into a wall!" Mako takes a breath. "I don't understand. Can't you even control yourself?"

Korra looks away, wondering what to tell him. "I don't know," she admits. "I . . . I thought I could."

He narrows his eyes. "You thought you could control a power like that?" Smoothing the blanket, Mako sits up. "I guess you're not as strong as I thought you were."

"Excuse me?" It's her turn to narrow her eyes, the line of her mouth tightening, her eyebrows forming a V. "I'm not strong?" She angrily points a finger at him, her other hand on her hip. "How about you try to control the most powerful force in the entire universe? 'Cause, guess what, that's what the Avatar is."

"I just need you to promise me you're never going to do something like that," Mako says, interrupting her, cutting across her words as if they didn't matter to him at all.

"Something like that?" she echoes. A beast of rage awakens in her chest, snarling and hissing at the thought of being forced to cast away everyone that makes her an Avatar forever. "So you're saying I should just drop my Avatar duties?"

Mako pushes himself off of the bed, inspiring abruptly, the crackle of broken pottery telling her what he stepped on. His eyes a molten gold in the morning light, he touches her cheek with a careful hand, brushing her hair from her face. His other arm slides about her protectively, like she were a fragile doll in dire need of cradling. "Korra, I love you. If you love me, you'll listen to me for once."

Korra recoils involuntarily, jerking away from him. "If I love you?" The beast in her chest rears, claws sharpening to slash into him. "I've loved you since I first saw you with that hat trick! But sometimes I don't know if you love me back." She gestures at herself, and he frowns. "

"Korra, how could I not love you?" Mako shakes his head and laughs, causing the beast in her chest to growl ferociously. How dare he laugh? "You're my sun and stars."

The phrase makes her hesitate for a moment, but then her rage returns. "Real poetic. Been reading Jinora's romance novels, huh? Going to ride a dragon into a volcano? Why do you even love me?"

Mako ogles at her. "What are you talking about, Korra?"

"Go on. Why do you love me?" Korra raises her eyebrows angrily. "Give me one reason."

He blinks at her. "You're the one who should be apologising to me!" he retorts. "You smashed me into a wall, for crying out loud!"

Her hands ball into fists; she raises her voice without meaning to. "You answer me, right now!" Korra glares at him, daring him to try to switch the topic a second time or shift the blame to her. "Name one thing you love about me."

His frown deepens; she can see his mind racing behind his narrowed eyes. "You're you. Isn't that enough?"

"I mean a real reason, Ma-ko."

"You're beautiful," Mako starts. "And you could be even more beautiful if you dressed like a woman. You're loyal, selfless—"

Korra lifts her hand, stopping him. "Yeah, you said that last time. Don't you have any other adjectives memorised? Do you even know what I do outside of kissing you?"

"Of course I do. Pro-bending." He smiles smugly.

"Pro-bending?" she reiterates. "That's the only thing you can think of?"

"Training. Bending." He glances around for inspiration, his gaze alighting on her boots. Korra moves backwards, cracking another shard of pottery under her foot. "Naga?"

A curiously icy chill settles into her, an epiphany beginning to grow, one that she doesn't want to dawn on her but that will. "You're throwing out random things now. You don't know anything about me do you?" The beast in her chest rears again, and a flicker of silver at the bottom of her vision chimes a warning bell in her mind, but she ignores it. "You know what? You're like the 'brave' hero who loves rescuing the princess more than the princess herself!"

Confusion descends on him. "What are you trying to say?"

"That you don't love me, just the idea of me." The fire in her has died, transformed into ice. No, not even that. She can't bend, can she? All she has left is air. Emptiness. A handful of dust. "You know what someone told me once? That I'm the smartest, funniest, toughest, buffest, talentedest, incrediblest girl in the world!"

"Don't bring my brother into this. You broke his heart into little pieces. Or did you forget that?"

Korra gasps. "I broke his heart? What about Asami?"

His timbre betrays how perplexed he is. "What about her?"

It takes all of her will and self-restraint to not slap him across the face. "You dated her for months and then turned around and start dating me! How many times did you call her your sun and stars? How many times did you tell her that you love her before you dumped her and went for me?" She suddenly feels suffocated, closed in, cornered by shadows on every side, her worst nightmare coming true, the man of her dreams turning out to be just a man after all.

Mako's mouth drops open; he stares at her incredulously. "Korra, I love you."

"No you don't." Tears. Korra feels behind her eyes. She can't cry. Not here, not now, not in front of Mako, not in the suffocation, not at her lowest point. She can't. She won't.

She has to.

The door calls to her; her pounding pulse begs her to run far away and never come back, and she starts towards it, the final pottery piece snapping into a thousand shards at the same time as her heart.

He tries to grab her as she flees, but she wrenches out of his grip and runs. "Korra! Stop running away from your problems!"

Running away from her problems?

So he admits it.

He is a problem.

Commercial break.