I'm back baby!
Yo. It's been a hot minute since I've updated this story, but it's always on my mind. Sorry if it reads kind of disjointedly. I'm super rusty.
So this chapter is kind of self-explanitory. I've been planning how to incorpurate more "Mako Origins" into the overall arc, so that his new powers and journey of self-actualization could be better explained. Plus, I'm a sucker for clichés.
WARNING: lots of feels. But, like, when does this story not tug on heart strings?
The car Mako had used to get away broke down several miles outside of a small town. By the time the firebender trudged into town, the sun was low in the sky. He passed through the farmland on the outskirts, wading through the waist-length grass. A cool gust of wind blew through the meadow. Mako brought his collar up closer to his chin. Autumn was in the air.
Streetlamps were being lit as he passed the first few houses. Two children went running past him, their cries of laughter echoing down the street. Mako smiled, watching the two innocents enjoy their childhood. Feeling a sudden pang of loneliness, Mako fished around in his pockets for the picture of his family. Through all the wear and tear, he could still make out the faces of his family members. Mako thumbed his baby brothers' face, wishing he hadn't left Bo behind.
Another gust of wind came through the town, with it the smell of rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Mako raised his body temperature, looking for some sort of shelter. Years on the street prepared him for this sort of situation. If he could find a covering of some sort, Mako knew he could keep a fire going all night. But if he couldn't come up with anything, being exposed to the elements would render his firebending useless.
Mako ducked into an alley as the sky opened up and began to pour rain. Scrunching into a corner as much as his long limbs would allow, Mako pulled the collar of his shirt up around his neck, wishing he still had his father's scarf for warmth.
….
Mako woke up shivering, his damp clothing sticking to his skin. He peeled his shirt off and wrung it out, rubbing the damp material between his warm palms to try and heat it up.
A gust of wind blew through the street, chilling Mako to the bone. He sneezed.
Great, he thought to himself. Mako hated being sick. He hadn't caught a cold since he was 15, and this sudden chill was going to ruin his streak.
Mako emptied his pockets, preparing to dry his pants. He pulled out the picture of his family. Mako held it loosely between his fingers, searching for a place to put it. Already tattered and worn from the long journey, the picture was much too valuable to just be placed on the wet ground.
Another sudden gust of wind came and plucked the picture out of his hand. Mako dashed down the street, desperate to reclaim the stolen token. The picture danced in the wind, taunting the firebender by staying just out of his reach. Mako jumped and grabbed and dove over and over again, frantically trying to get his hands on the little scrap of paper. The wind picked up, lifting the picture higher into the sky and flinging it down the street.
He stumbled forward, reaching out when…
"No!" the wind picked up again, sending the photo flying.
Stubbornness egged him on. Even when the few remaining contents of his stomach rose to the back of his throat and his vision turned black at the edges, Mako continued to run after his family's picture.
Mako found himself in the marketplace, merchants and vendors setting up while early shoppers strolled up and down the way.
Mako wove his way though the people, eyes trained on the picture waving at him from the sky. It twirled just overhead, always out of reach.
Finally, the wind died down, and Mako's picture landed on the ground a few feet away. Mako dashed forward, intent on grabbing the picture and stuffing it in his pocket before the wind picked up again.
A cart was wheeled out into the street just before Mako could reach the picture. "Move!" he snarled at the vendor. In the back of his mind, Mako knew he must have seemed unhinged, but at that moment nothing mattered more than getting that family picture back.
The picture landed at the feet of a woman in her early 50's. She bent down, inspecting the strange scrap that blew in front of her. The woman squinted at it for a moment before gasping. She whirrled around frantically, clutching Mako's picture to her chest.
"Hey," Mako ran after the woman. "Hey, that's mine!"
He grabbed the older woman's shoulder. She turned around, briskly shrugging off the tight grip Mako had on her arm.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "How did you get this?" She shoved the picture in Mako's face. "Is this some sort of prank? How did you get this picture?"
Mako tried to snatch it out of her hand, but the woman kept waving it in his face, questioning how he came across it.
"It's mine!" Mako snapped.
"That's impossible!" the woman argued back. "There is no way you could have-".
"It's a picture of my family, and I would like to have it back." Mako lunged for the scrap of paper, but the woman held it close to her chest and moved just out of his reach.
"Your family?" she asked slowly, studying the young man for a moment. "But, then that would mean-".
The woman looked at his face intently, than back down at the picture. "No," she gasped, holding the photo up to Mako. She covered her mouth with her free hand. Than her arms were wrapped around his neck, engulfing him in an unsuspecting hug.
"My nephew," she cried into his shoulder.
"Finally you've come home."
When Mako awoke, his whole body ached. There was a cold compress on his head and a warm blanket tucked around him. He sat up slowly, pinching his nose against the thundering pain in his head. When he could finally open his eyes, Mako inspected his surroundings. He had been set up in someone's living room, a worn out sofa served as his bed. Two large bookshelves stood against the walls opposite to him, stuffed with books and a small smattering of framed pictures. Large curtains were drawn over the windows, and a lamp on the stand next to where he lay served as the only source of light. Mako shoved the blanked up off of himself and tried to stand. The world pitched and rolled around him. Mako groaned as he sat heavily back down. Footsteps sounded from down the hall.
"Got quite a fever there dear," a kindly voice said as the cold compress was placed back on his head. Mako looked up to find the woman from before smiling at him.
"Who-Who are you?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself before you passed out. I'm Myeong. Your mother, Noaki, was my sister." She brushed Mako's hair away from his forehead. "I was wondering when we would meet."
Mako frowned. "My mother…I didn't know she had a sister."
Myeong sighed. "Noaki never mentioned us." Mako shook his head. "That doesn't surprise me. We had a falling out of sorts. Noaki wanted to see the world, get an education, fall in love. Our father was very strict. He wanted the two of us to stay in this little village, settle down and do something practical with our lives." Myeong shook her head, a distant look on her face. "I was content with my life here, but Noaki always seemed…restless. I caught her sneaking out one night. She had managed to get her hands on a boat ticket, and was heading for the ports in the next city over. She begged me to come with her. I stayed. I couldn't leave our father alone, both his daughters abandoning him without a reason. Many years passed before I heard from her again. She told me she had settled down in a place called the United Republic. I received many letters about when she fell in love with your father, and the last time I heard from her was when she sent me this," Myeong unfolded Mako's family portrait. "She was so proud of the life she had built for her and her family. She asked me to come visit." The creases in Myeong's face deepened. "And then I never heard from her again."
Mako placed his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. My parents…they…died. My brother, Bolin, was six and I was eight. We didn't know we had any extended family until five years ago, on our father's side."
Myeong nodded in understanding. "I wish I had met you and your brother years ago. I wish I had been there for my big sister." She gently stroked Mako's face. "You look so much like her."
A terrible coughing came from down the hall. Myeong's head snapped in the direction it was coming from, listening for a moment. The noise subsided; she quickly got up and hurried down the hall. Mako tried to follow, but the room was still spinning. He lay back on the couch, waiting for his aunt to return.
Several minutes passed before she came back into the living room, looking exhausted.
"Myeong?" Mako called softly. The older woman looked up to meet his worried gaze. She settled on the couch beside him. "What happened?" Mako questioned. "Who was making that noise? Who else is here?"
Myeong patted Mako's hand and blew out a sigh. "Your grandfather," she said. Mako's eyes lit up. More of his family? He got up and started to cross the room when his aunt pulled his arm, stopping him in his tracks.
"Mako, please." She gestured back to the couch. "You need to rest."
"But my grandfather is here," Mako said excitedly. "I need to meet him. I need to know more about where Bo and I come from."
Myeong held up her hand, silencing her nephew. "Please. Not tonight."
"But-" Mako started to protest when the coughing started up again. Myeong hurried down the hall, leaving Mako alone once again. He crept down the hall after her, keen on investigating.
At the end of the hall, a door stood slightly ajar. Mako peered through.
On the other side of the door was a bedroom. A small cot was set up in the corner. In the middle was a large bed, a frail-looking old man propped up in it. Little bottles were scattered on the nightstand. Myeong flitted around the room, turning on the lights and searching through the bottles to find the correct one. She shook some medication into her hand and pried it into the elder's mouth. She encouraged him to wash it down with some water, than she sat by his side, holding his hand and murmuring to him. Mako tore his eyes away, softly padding back down the hall. He turned off the light and lay in the darkness, waiting for his aunt to come back.
….
Hours later, Mako heard footsteps. A shadowed figure came and knelt before him, reaching out to stroke his hair.
"He's dying," Mako said. Myeong sighed.
"Yes."
Mako reached up and turned on the lamp. "How long has he been sick?"
"Years," Myeong rubbed her eyes. "But it has been getting worse. The doctors have done all they can. They told me to make him comfortable. All there is left to do is wait."
Mako rubbed her arm. "I'm sorry," he whispered. She shook her head.
"I came to terms with it a long time ago. I just wished he wasn't in so much pain." She leaned her head on his shoulder, utterly exhausted. Mako rubbed her back soothingly, wishing he could do more to comfort her. They stayed like that for a while.
Finally, an idea came to him. "I would like to stick around until…. if that's okay with you."
Myeong looked up to meet his eyes. "Are you sure?"
Mako nodded. "I would still like to meet my grandfather, even if these aren't the greatest of circumstances."
Myeong nodded. "Okay." She grabbed Mako's hands and hoisted him up off the couch. Together, they made their way silently down the hall. When they reached the bedroom door, Myeong raised a finger to her lips, reminding Mako to remain quiet. Myeong gently shook the older man, coaxing him awake.
"Baba," she whispered. "Baba, there is someone here who would like to meet you."
Slowly, the man opened his eyes. Myeong reached back and pulled Mako closer to the bed. "Baba, this is your grandson, Noaki's eldest son Mako."
Mako knelt down to eye-level with the frail looking man.
"Mako, this is your grandfather, Hayato."
"Hi," Mako barely managed to whisper, fourteen years of abandonment suddenly catching up to him.
A quivering hand reached out and rested on his head.
"Noaki," the old man rasped. "You look just like her."
Mako broke down, sobbing into the sheets with his grandfathers' hand resting on his head. Myeong silently slipped out of the room, leaving the two men to get acquainted.
Mako stayed with his family for several weeks. He helped Myeong care for his grandfather, bathing the older man and changing his dirty sheets. When he wasn't doing that, he was doing other household chores or watching his aunt in the kitchen, finally learning where his cooking talents came from.
Though she gave Mako the cot, Myeong would often come into the bedroom to find her nephew asleep on the floor or propped up against the bed. She would drape a quilt over Mako's shoulders and silently slip back out of the room.
Mako tried to get to know his grandfather. Myeong encouraged him to take Hayato out in his wheelchair. "It would do both of you some good to see the sun every once and a while," she would say. Mako complied. He would wheel him around the nearby markets or the parks. When the weather was bad, they would sit on the front porch, watching the storm pass.
Hayato was almost always unresponsive. The medication, Myeong explained, was deteriorating his mind. Most days he would stay silent, lost in his own muddled thoughts.
Mako would offer up small bits of information. He talked about Bolin and the United Forces, what it was like being a cop in Republic City, how his 23rd birthday was coming up soon.
The two men often sat in silence, Hayato being too out of it to offer much conversation.
But some days there was clarity.
When Hayato did speak, he told Mako about his youth. He spoke of how his grandfather fought in the Hundred Year War, then his father having worked in the first Sato-Mobile factory in the Fire Nation, The Great Riots of the East that happened when he was Mako's age. When he spoke of his daughters, Mako hung on to every word, intent on learning more about his mother.
Hayato mentioned how different she was compared to her sister, never content with her life, always searching for more.
"Noaki never liked playing with the other children," Hayato murmured. "She was too smart for them anyway. She read every book in the village, insisting that she would one day attend one of the Great Universities. She wanted to study politics, and become a royal advisor to the Fire Lord." The old man sighed. "She wanted things that were too far out of our reach. She was very ahead of her time, your mother was. I tried convincing her to stay here, to create a life for herself close to home. I arranged for her betrothal to a local farmer, but when I told her the news, she all but burnt the house down. And then she left without saying goodbye. I never heard from her again..." His eyes grew dim and he sat staring at the wall for a moment, muttering to himself.
Mako excused himself, knowing that this meant that the moment of clarity was over.
As his hand reached the doorknob, the old man called out to him.
"Noaki?"
Mako shook his head. "No grandfather. I'm her eldest son, Mako."
"Oh," he recoiled. "You seem so much like her."
One afternoon, Mako was reading to his grandfather when a frail hand reached up and softly lowered the book. Mako looked up, puzzled.
"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself," he murmured.
Mako blinked for a moment. "I…I thought I had."
Hayato shook his head slowly. "You've given me facts about your age, your job, your brother. But you never talk about your family, friends, hopes, dreams." The old man studied his grandson carefully. "You're very private, just like your mother. I never really listened to what she wanted. I tried to force her down a path she wasn't meant to travel, and I ended up losing her." He patted Mako's hands. "Tell me everything. I promise, I will listen."
Mako set the book aside, taking in a large inhale and settling himself.
Then he told his grandfather everything.
He started with the night his parents were killed, eyes downcast and voice low. He couldn't bring himself to look at his grandfather's face. Mako made sure to be brief, keeping the details to a minimum. He spoke of his time on the streets in great detail, revealing many secrets Mako swore he would take to the grave. When he got to probending, Mako found himself up on his feet, going through the forms and reliving the memories. And then he spoke of Korra, her power, their adventures together, their relationship, the love and admiration he still carried for her.
"Does she know you still love her?" Hayato asked. Mako rubbed his neck and nodded, a shy blush creeping over his cheeks. "Then why wouldn't you stay with her?"
"Because," Mako blew out a sigh. "Things…changed. We grew apart. And she…she fell in love with someone else, someone who won't hurt her like I did."
"So what did you do after that?"
Mako thought for a moment. "I left. I left my job, my home, and my friends. I traveled here, tried to find myself."
"And did you?"
"I…I got captured and coursed into a gang. They threatened to kill me." Mako ran a hand through his hair, chuckling mirthlessly. "I figured I had nothing to lose. But when they promised to help me unleash ultimate power, I couldn't resist. I stayed, and I found a version of myself that scares me." Mako's hands shook, his jaw clenching at the memory of the Senshi. He could feel the brand they had given him burn over his heart, a constant reminder of the darkness brewing just below the surface.
"I'm not a good person," Mako admitted to his grandfather. "I'm arrogant and selfish. I've done terrible things, ruined lives, and caused so many people harm. I always put survival before anything else, and that often hurts the people who get close to me. I abandoned my family and my country. I've killed people." He bowed his head. "My parents would be ashamed of the person I became."
A soft wrinkled hand cupped Mako's cheek, bringing his head up to face his grandfather. He saw nothing but love and acceptance in the elders' face, and for the first time in a long time, Mako didn't feel ashamed of his past.
"You have nothing to apologize for Mako," Hayato said, seemingly reading his grandsons' mind. "Life has not been easy for you, young one. You have been tested, forced to walk through the fire alone. I believe you have found the man you were meant to become. I am proud to call you my grandson, and I am grateful that you found your way to us," he patted Mako's hand.
Mako lowered his head into the bed sheets, staining them with tears of relief. "Thank you grandfather," he whispered over and over.
….
After a long silence, Hayato finally spoke.
"I think it is time for you to find your way back home. Your family must be worried for you."
Mako paused, weighing what the elder was telling him, what he already knew in his heart. "I don't think I can," Mako whispered, folding his hands over his mouth and shaking his head introspectively. "After how I left…everything that's happened here…" he thought about his brief interaction with Korra, how they tried to reignite an old flame, only to leave the both of them burned. "I don't think they'll accept me now."
"That's the thing about family," Hayato settled deeper into his pillows. "Real family will accept all of your flaws and welcome you home with open arms. No matter how long you've been gone, or what you did in the past. They will never turn their backs on you, Mako. You just have to trust that you are worthy of love."
Late that night, Myeong came into the bedroom to find both men fast asleep, her nephew once again propped up against the bedframe. She silently tucked a quilt around his shoulders, gently kissed his forehead, and tiptoed out of the room.
Days after their conversation, Mako decided it was time to leave.
"At least let me cook you dinner tonight," his aunt insisted. "As a thank you for all you have done around here. I'll make one of your mother's favorite dishes."
She sent him out with a long list of ingredients to fetch while she gathered supplies for him to take on his journey.
Mako returned in the early evening, whistling an abstract tune. "I'm back," he called as he entered the dark house. "You were right about the rice vendor. He drove a hard bargain, but I took your advice and…" he noticed the emptiness of the house for the fist time. "Hello?" he reached for the lamp in the living room. "Aunt Myeong?"
A noise came from the bedroom.
Slowly, Mako crept down the hall, cautiously opening the door. He stepped into the bedroom, taking in the scene before him. A man in his late fifties as murmuring to Myeong, whose face was red and stained with tears. The sheets on the bed were pulled all the way up, while a still figure rested beneath them.
"What's happening?" Mako asked quietly. His aunt looked up at him, fresh tears trickling down her cheeks. She walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders.
"He's gone Mako," she told him, voice barely above a whisper. "He passed this afternoon. Dr. Hun is here to, um, help me…" she sniffled. "He's here to help me prepare the body."
"I am terribly sorry for your loss," the doctor bowed to the two family members. "But if you would please step outside so that I may continue."
"Of course," Myeong quickly pulled a silent Mako out of the bedroom and shut the door behind them. Still gripping his sleeve, she dragged him to the couch and pulled him down with her.
Mako watched her for a moment, watching the grief wash over her. He pulled her into a hug, and she clung to him as she cried into his shirt. They stayed like that until she could finally pull herself together.
"I'm sorry," she wiped her face, "I'm sorry you had to be here for this."
Mako rubbed her back. "I said I would stay until the end," he reminded her.
Myeong nodded and wiped her eyes again.
"I wished I could have said goodbye," Mako whispered.
Myeong pulled away from her nephew. "You still can," she informed him.
Mako furrowed his eyebrows.
"We have a tradition here; an ancient burial ritual. We could give your grandfather one, but only if you want."
Mako thought of his parents, how they were just put in the ground with no fuss or fanfare. He and Bolin weren't even allowed to attend the funeral. They never got a proper sendoff.
"Yes," Mako nodded. "I would like that very much."
Mako spent the remainder of the afternoon and most of the evening chopping logs and gathering them in the field just outside of town. Dr. Hun finished preparing the body. Then he lfet Myeong to wrap her father in ornimental garnments.
Once he was done, Mako met his aunt back at the house. Some of the local boys in their late teens were at the door; a makeshift cot lay at their feet.
"They are going to carry him down to the clearing," Myeong explained. One of the boys helped the Dr. move the body on to the cot, and then the four of them hoisted it up onto their shoulders.
The small procession made their way through the town. Mako looked around at the unusually empty streets. Paper lanterns were placed in doorways and hung everywhere.
"It's respectful to let the family mourn their loss privately," Myeong explained. "Tomorrow, the people who knew him will come say their goodbyes, but for now they will leave us alone."
"And the lanterns?"
"They serve two purposes. They are to bring light back into our lives during this dark time. They are also lit to help guide the spirits of those who've passed to find their way to the afterlife."
Finally, they reached the clearing where Mako had built the funeral pyre. The young men placed the cot on top of the pyre, bowed to the two family members, and briskly left.
Myeong gestured towards the log pile.
"I would be honored if you lit his pyre."
Mako sucked in a deep breath and gently lit a small fire at the edge of the pile. In a matter of moments, the whole thing was ablaze, brilliant orange flames climbing up towards the night sky.
Myeong reached for her nephew's hand and held on tightly. "Goodbye father."
Mako whispered the only prayer he knew.
"May his spirit join the Great Firebenders in the stars."
I kill a lot of characters in this thing. GOT vibes, anyone? Oops.
Anyway.
I have always wondered about Mako's mother; what her backstory was, Mako's connection with her, etc. I think it's nice that he now has more extended family on both sides. (And we finally know where he got his cooking skills from, because I know that was a burning question eating away at everyone's soul. You're welcome.)
Disclaimer on the funeral. I don't know any traditional burial cerimonies. This was ment to be totally fictional, but if it loosely resembles an actual ritual, let me know.
The redemption scene reminds me a lot of the Zuko/Iroh redemption scene in the ATLA series finale. Love to know what you guys think.
Now that Mako has found his family, and some more answers, will he make the journey back to Republic City and, with his grandfathers' blessing, reconnect with his friends? Or is his place now in the Fire Nation?
If I ever get around to updating, I will let you know ;)
Comments make me write faster. Seriously guys. Light that fire, I need it.
Emmy
