[edit to last Chapter: Well. If she'll hand me a bargaining chip so easily, I won't refuse it. But I will make sure she knows that I won't leave here as a member of her organisation, or even a pawn to be directed. I don't even intend to become any sort of player within the Earthkingdom, but I'll be damned if I allow this woman to tie me to her criminal empire. Perhaps even quite literally. There are rather concerning rumours about the tattoos these people can put on benders. Come to think of it, Gorou has one doesn't he?
It's said that dangerous rituals are involved in the tattooing process. Rituals that involve spirits of the malevolent kind. Not only are those rituals extremely rare, but also risky to the point that only very few ever attempt them.]
The day is murky, oppressive in a way only clouds that promise nothing but their hovering presence can be. I have long learned not to care for it, but the quality of sunlight is a well-appreciated one for me. I've been spoilt with good weather since the storm, working in the sun, and its lack is apparent.
Not, that it will matter much once I re-enter that tobacco shop.
I think of the agreement Gorou and I reached with Marija and her brother last night. Access to trading rings within Ba Sing Se for the sake of gathering our information on the Dai Li that we will share with Marija through her nephew, Eyebrows. His name is Dionu, and it sounds enough like 'dino' to amuse me because sometimes he seems like a T-Rex, incredibly dangerous, but not very dexterous.
Further, while we will be provided with accommodations within the city, he's going to live with us. Something that I can tolerate, but I don't like it all that much. Already, I'm far too vulnerable through Peter and Haruto, who both depend on me to an extent. I'll do my best to make Haruto into someone independent, and give Peter the room to decide things for himself that he needs. He's a grown man inside a child's body, after all, and I know all too well what that's like.
From my own time in that state most likely stems my obsessive need to insure my independence. To assert my own power and influence over the world, as stupid as it seems.
And it is a need, I have noticed. It became especially apparent last night. And cravings for power, I find, always comes from feeling helpless, or the lack of something. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and that is especially true for power.
The absence of power over one's own circumstances, or even the options one has within that situation has created this sensitivity towards all attempts to coerce me into subservience. Because it always goes hand in hand with restrictions of one's choices. In other words, loss of freedom. If there were an even trade-off for more safety, I suppose the argument could be made that it isn't all that bad. However, looking at things more closely, that rarely turns out to be true, if at all.
It depends on the viewpoint. As soon as one is no longer solely responsible for oneself, one must be exponentially more careful about the choices one makes.
Safety could be a very good thing for Peter while he still grows.
It could be argued that he's safest within the Fire Nation, since he's a noble there.
But I have asked him. He does not desire the life there. To him, an adventure to take part in, to have a voice and stake in, if little else, is preferable to that relative safety.
And, to be clear, it is relative. One never knows what the future brings. There is no one who is actually capable of foresight. And so, every day remains a mystery. In a country that is at war, even outside of its actual borders, that mystery could turn out to be a deadly one.
With me… it's similar, if more immediate of a risk.
Then again, what's life without risk?
What's life without freedom?
Boring. Beside helplessness the first few months of my conscious existence in this world were remarkably boring. That was when I wasn't prone to fits of anger, fear or doubt.
Thankfully, my awareness had only crept in in stages. By the time I was capable of understanding who and what I was, years had passed.
Peter is rather young to remember all of himself. But perhaps some of the memories were triggered by coming into contact with me. It would explain some things.
Such are my thoughts as I make my way back to the shop while Gorou and Dionu load up our ship with the goods we also agreed on smuggling inside the city. Dionu's done it before, so we'll rely on his expertise for the operation. I imagine the Dai Li knows of their activities, but tolerates it, so long as it benefits them.
It's always good to have some drug-addicts for the 'clean' people to blame or bully. Their misfortune is their own fault, after all, and one's own life is still better than that.
"The boy has returned," one of the old men from last evening croaks. His face is the kind of old you rarely get to see, with wrinkles so fine and numerous that his entire face seems like the rockface of a particularly splintered boulder.
I shrug at him. "I said I would."
"The boy will follow," he says and laboriously rises from his seat. He leans on a gnarled cane with an equally gnarled hand that has become a permanent claw with age and shuffles slowly towards the back of the shop that lies in complete darkness.
The other man, still in his seat, watches with sharp, mistrustful eyes.
I follow the first one to a door that he taps in an odd pattern. It slides open to reveal a beautiful garden, and my nose, used to the heavy waft of tobacco smoke, livens under the flowery scents. It is a small gravel path that the old man takes, ignoring the woman who'd opened the door. She, too, is old, but her eyes are keen as she meets my gaze.
A twist around a large bush, heavy with flowers that I can't name reveals a pond in which white lotus flowers float peacefully in the lacklustre light the day gifts us with. He shuffles past it to a stone table whose surface was carved with a Pai Sho grid.
It seems that we'll be playing before we hold a proper conversation about what I want and what I have to do to get it, if I can. We sit across from one another in silence.
The woman who opened the door sets tea down beside our hands.
"What does the boy seek from old men?" croaks my opponent.
That one is easy. "The means to securing freedom for those who seek it."
"What does the boy think the will to freedom is?" Here we have a bit of philosophy. It's tricky because freedom can be defined in many ways, but if I actually had to pick one definition, I don't think I could, because the nature of freedom is that it is, well, free. If it were definite, it would no longer be freedom. Then again, the word is not necessarily identical with what it describes. So, the will to freedom…
"The desire to self-governance in action and thought," that's not all of it by far, but this is a quick and dirty fix.
"What does the boy believe these old men should do to aid his cause?"
"I should think that the means of contacting certain people in hard-to-reach places would be a wonderful start," after all, I need help if we are to stop the war and build a community for people to exist freely in. That is, so long as their way of living does not restrict others in ways they object to.
"The boy intends much beyond what he reveals."
"Yes." That much is obvious. I mirror his action of sipping from his tea. It's a light flavour. White tea and a hint of something sweet.
The man scrutinises me carefully.
"The boy will play a game and he will play it honestly."
"Alright." I'm not master enough at Pai Sho to fool a master into thinking I'm playing as I would honestly when I'm not.
And so, we play.
The atmosphere is almost tranquil. The rustle of the wind as it brushes through the leaves. The gentle clicking of the stones on the board. A calmness so unlike anything I expected to feel today, especially after the high tension of last night.
"You were taught well," he observes quietly, surveying the board. He has, of course built a solid foundation into defeating me. "Who was the best teacher in your life?"
"The best teacher?" I think on it for a short moment, "Well, they've visited all of us at least once. For most, they're a permanent resident."
"Pain," the old man says wisely.
"Hurt," I correct, and once more I feel his eyes keenly. Hurt is damage to the hearth, while pain is a threat. Something to be soothed. Hurt… is pain to the soul, and there are very few things that have proven to be adequate comforts for that. All that I do in the end is to distract from it. And yet, I can never escape it. It is a constant companion, and since you can learn from all things, if you look at them right, hurt is the most constant, the most present teacher. It is the best because consistency and presence are what matter most to me in an unstable world such as this, in an existence as inexplicable as any other, but so much more because…
I open my eyes. The lids are heavy.
I should not be nearly as tired. Or calm…
There is little worse than feeling helpless. I slide my gaze to the empty tea cup. "Ah."
SOKKA POV
Sokka is, has and always will be someone practically inclined. This doesn't stop him from being introspective, when the situation calls for it. With Kaito, he's practically forced into it.
He isn't a man of many unnecessary words, Kaito. But what he does say when he opens his mouth is relevant and sobering. He's fun, too, which seems like a contradiction, but Kaito, Sokka has learned, is never entirely consistent, or conforms to expectations. He seems aloof, but carries out gestures of care naturally, without expecting gratitude.
He seems not to know what to do with Katara's jealousy, except for allowing her to realise that there isn't any need for comparison between them without ever actually saying it. There never could be an accurate comparison between them without ever actually saying it. There never could be an accurate comparison of their skill, in any case. He grew up in the North, with Pakku as his teacher from the time he was two years old. He was part of a large community of benders, with duties to his people that demanded a certain amount of maturity.
Sokka recognises that Kaito, although only a year his elder, commands a vast amount of experience in matters of fighting and observation of people, as well as a sharp intellect that he only reveals when it comes to the defence that none of the others, including Sokka can muster.
He understands that his sister is intimidated, wants to be able to stand up to a comparison with Kaito. But, as Sokka keeps reminding himself, there can be no comparison.
He isn't usually so introspective, but something about Kaito and his words, the way he argues, well-informed, well thought-out and so convincing that Sokka takes it at face value. He's never had to work at understanding someone else in a conversation while they're speaking the same language. He feels slow when he asks for clarification, but the way Kaito then elaborates and takes the slight difficulty in understanding into account the next time they discuss is nothing short of impressive. Sokka feels his brain stretch in those moments, horizon expanding, shifting to a new, before unseen level.
Really, he thinks privately that, were Kaito not as tricky to handle as he is, and a few years older, Sokka would be nursing a bad case of hero-worship by now. As it is, they're working on a great, easy friendship that could, if Sokka's optimistic, change the world.
With his own cleverness and Kaito's realism and capability of understanding and going along with Sokka's trains of thought, they could – with sufficient resources – defeat the Fire Nation. Not bad, for the two of them, and with Aang by their side, if they play it right, the Fire Nation would go down. Will go down. Perhaps even in Flames.
So when Kaito makes the decision to stay behind in Omashu, an active warzone, it feels a bit like they're being protected. Which, while rubbing Sokka the wrong way in a lot of places, also feels nice. Ever since his father went to war, Sokka had to look after both Katara and himself.
So Kaito caring about their well-being… it's nice.
And also, kind of patronising? But, Aang is their priority and Sokka agrees that for his sake, they definitely had to leave. As their time with Kaito made all-too clear, Aang is eleven.
Sokka isn't all that much older, but the difference is considerable. They might've been fending for themselves for a long time now, but their encounter with General Fong and the subsequent violent mess that ended their stay with the man, made it very apparent that they weren't ready for a lot of things.
And now that they were alone again, Sokka sort of missed the comforting presence of another person who behaved responsibly at least in the situations that most demanded it. Besides, Kaito laughed at his jokes, no matter how flat they fell with Katara.
Katara was both more and less irritable without Kaito around. She bristled at the most innocuous comments, especially when she felt that she wasn't being taken seriously – and, honestly, she could stand to be more relaxed about that. But she no longer nagged at them as badly as before Kaito had been with them. He'd managed to give her a new sort of perspective about a lot of things, Sokka thought. At least when it came to accepting that some people were just always going to be of a different mindset and that cooperation was still possible.
Aang… he tried not to show it, but Kaito had been a big comfort for him. Sokka tried to make up for it a bit, but he knew that only Kaito could fill the odd gap he'd left in their interactions. He'd been someone to go to for advice who took even the small insecurities Aang had seriously.
Sokka knew he wasn't the best about honest, serious conversations, but he made an effort to show Aang that he could still come to him with his problems. Although he drew the line when it came to Aang's crush on Katara. He just ignored that. Because… ew.
Their episode in the swamp had the odd side-effect of forcing them all to confront their feelings. Where Kaito had made them understand the larger workings of this world and the war, he'd never been one for introspection. He'd been a fun, largely quiet companion, and until Sokka met Yue again he hadn't thought much about Kaito's loss at all.
"Kaito fares well, by the way," Yue had said to him, "He's pretending to be a pirate now."
Sokka had spluttered: "A pirate!"
Yue had laughed. "It suits him. He never really did enjoy being my guard."
Sokka hadn't understood. All he'd wanted to do then was be as close to Yue as he could.
When he thought about it now, about what Kaito had been doing when they met him, he realised that he'd always been talking to people or training with the waterbenders. He'd been social to the point that Sokka wondered when he found the time to sleep. He'd been someone made for action and the position of a guard was one of long periods of doing nothing. He'd had a large circle of acquaintances and Yue had often complained to Sokka about how she thought Kaito was bored too often, which was why he behaved as he did.
In leaving behind the Northern Watertribe, Kaito had left behind a large network of people – many of whom were dead. He'd been Hahn's best friend, and he'd given Sokka his last memento of him. Kaito had acknowledged Sokka's loss. But Sokka had never done the same.
Kaito was, by and large, the picture of strength and a mess at once. A strong mess.
When they finally caught the whiff of a bending teacher for Aang, they'd been so excited that Sokka only realised the implications of what it meant that all Earthbending schools were shit when he took a step back from his emotions.
It meant that there was hardly any competent opposition to the Fire Nation, and the best fighters were criminals. And Sokka felt a cold shiver run down his spine. It was no wonder the Fire Nation was advancing as well as it was. It meant that… the Earthkingdom had no real defence to muster up outside of large fortifications.
He held his hears out for news from Omashu, even if he knew that Kaito had left the city behind as well. It never hurt to know where things stood, and which places were still untouched by war.
Most of the news was that of thousands of refugees pouring into Ba Sing Se, and that Omashu had turned into a battered city of war, the bastion that held strong against the Fire Nation's continued advances. It was the opposite of what King Bumi had wanted, he supposed, but Sokka didn't know if life as a slave to the Fire Nation was better than fighting for one's freedom and perhaps dying.
He knew he would fight. He had been for so long that he thought he probably didn't know how not to.
He'd seen what a well-planned defence against the might of all the Fire Nation's Navy could do. He knew what it had cost, and he was aware that it had been an all-or-nothing war. Or, more precisely, a battle that could turn the tides on the Fire Nation, at least for a time. It had been very straight-forward, he thought. Far less convoluted that the strategies they employed in Omashu. The battle grounds were simply different.
The Resistance had to take out both the access points of the Fire Nation to the city, as well as make use of their superior knowledge of the terrain to disable all the war machinery the Fire Nation employed.
Thinking about this more made Sokka realise how important it was for them to finally end the war. These people they met would all be slaughtered, or sent to prison, the way Haru's father had been.
It wasn't right.
Sokka only hoped that the might of the Avatar could help them sway the war.
But he realised that Aang was eleven, and the thought that he would lead them all to victory was… well, he had faith in his friend. But he knew that it was the symbol of the Avatar that would encourage many to take up arms once more, not the actual person. He also realised that they would have to organise themselves into efficient battle formations and follow a common strategy. Of course, different angles would come together, but they had to have a common goal that would set the list of objectives for each confrontation.
He had no idea how that could be organised on such a large scale without military hierarchies that could structure all of this efficiently. There had to be stable channels of communication. There had to be a clear line of distribution of supplies, and they had to be transported.
His headache was getting worse.
The ships that the Fire Navy had lost… meant that the Watertribes could bring supplies much faster than the usual slow crawl of carts or caravans. But there were pirates to consider.
Then again, hadn't Yue said that Kaito fancied himself a pirate now? They could disguise lots of their supply ships as pirate vessels perhaps and cover up their activities for a time. Time that could be vital as they scouted out how quickly the Fire Nation re-built much of their fleet. As it was, Sokka was sure that the only reason that Omashu could truly still resist was because the Fire Navy couldn't bring over new soldiers fast enough to turn the tides efficiently. The problem was, that as time went on, Omashu's troops would be worn down.
They really had to get things done.
And then there was that comet…
Sokka wished Kaito had left him one of those skins of wine. He could really use a drink.
GOROU POV
Gorou thought negotiations had gone rather well. He'd only been roughed up a bit, for failing to report in sooner, but then at his proposition and revelation of who he was travelling with, Marija had thought it better to get to know her options. As she always had.
She was the most calculating person he knew, after all. And his brother was O-Ting, who had infiltrated the Dai Li in order to find their sister's noble abusers. In Omashu. Which was where he was now part of the Resistance…
Really, he wondered how O-Ting got himself into these situations. But then again, he had little ground to stand on, didn't he?
As part of the ykuzaGorou'd been in his own tricky situations.
As the first mate of a pirate crew he'd been in a few dangerous scruffs with Fire Nation and other officials alike. And then that disaster with capturing the Fire Nation noble girls and Kaito…
Well, that had been a sound strategic bite in the dust.
Literally for most. Really, as soon as Gorou had understood that Kaito could control some of his bodily fluids, it was over. There were some things you could take on, and then there was monstrosity hidden behind half-lidded eyes and lazy movements that could turn sharp at a moment's notice.
He'd thought to bide his time with Ebisu and Fon, but once the storm hit, Gorou knew that there was nothing he would do to murder this man in his sleep. If he was blessed by the spirits, Gorou wouldn't bring down their wroth on himself. For nothing in this world.
And, if he was honest, freedom sounded rather nice.
As it was, he was enjoying the view of Tananga tinged in the rosy hues of sunset. It was the first time the sun showed itself that day.
He only wondered if Kaito would be back soon enough for them to make for Ba Sing Se in the morning. He'd been gone all day. Where to, Gorou didn't know. The man could look after himself, after all.