Gyatso
I have told myself this before: Children are a blessing.
It doesn't matter at what time they storm in, hysterical: "Gyatso!"
"What?" Pillows shoot from my bed when I sprung up, hitting the statuettes around it.
"I had a dream with Kyoshi!"
Oh, how fondly do I remember the times when Aang was a baby! (He hadn't been able to walk or talk, Zuko can.)
"Zuko…" I pinch the bridge of my nose, the reality of the situation takes form messily slow. I know have to think of an answer that won't alter him while also telling him to wait to solve this in the morning. (Remember: Children are a blessing.)
"It was a vision! She's trying to tell me something!"
There is an incessant 'No, no, no' chant coming from outside. All the kids – Aang, Katara, and Sokka – are in their sleeping clothes and blankets wrapped around them, their faces long and sleepy. Sokka is the one repeating such a depressing carol, his face between his hands and his head shaking back and forth.
"I'm telling you this is important!" Zuko's fists light up due to the emphasis.
I have to admire his contact with his native element.
Sokka's hands slide down, stretching his face. "Okay, your Avatarness. You say this is important, I believe you. But what do you want us to do about it?"
"We have to go to the Air Temple. I have to see Kyoshi's statue. She talked to me when we were there."
"The statue talked to you?"
"No! – Yes." Zuko growls. "I know I heard her voice when we were there, what I don't know is what she said to me."
"Then how do you know she talked to you?"
"I just know!"
"Solid case, bro."
Aang rubs his eyes. (He looks so much younger, more of those fond memories make me smile.) "I don't know, guys. Something awful always happens to us whenever we escap–"
Katara's hand bolts toseal his mouth shut. Four pair of young eyes grow.
"Mm-hmmm…" (Kids these days. They think they can fool anyone.) "It wouldn't be escaping if you had my permission," I state.
"That's why I came to wake you up." Zuko's eyes shift from alarm to anticipation. "Otherwise, I would have let you sleep and we would have just escaped agai–"
Sokka is the one to keep him from 'spilling the beans' on them.
I sigh, containing a headache again. Children are a blessing.
I have exactly four blessings to keep in check and safe. And ensure they don't make a mess on their own.
"Alright. You have my permission."
"Seriously?" Sokka's face is emphatically confused. It's easier to read than Zuko's considering Sokka's hand remains over his mouth.
"But," I add, "I am accompanying you."
None of them answers.
"In fact, Aang, Zuko, and I will be the ones to go. Katara, Sokka; you stay here at the camp."
The kids stay biddable, although I assume they're only quiet. Standing compliant and relaxed despite the cold of the night, yet there is a visible, offended and defiant frown on Sokka's face; fear dilutes the color of Katara's eyes, Aang's are a mixture of confusion and excitement, and Zuko's… there is a determination in him focused on a remote target. It is idealism and rebelliousness.
The last trait lets itself be known when he tries to argue through Sokka's lingering impediment: "We could go alone…"
"No."
"Do the three of you really have to go?" Katara finally lets go of Aang to come implore in front of me. Sokka releases Zuko, too. "What if something happens and we can't reach you?"
The fear in her is more accurately described as apprehension, a tense one that makes her bristle in forced composure. It virtually erases the blue from her eyes.
A moment of shortfall overpowers me; no matter how much I try to convince myself it isn't much different to parent a girl from parenting a boy, it nevertheless does feel different. I struggle to decipher how Katara perceives me, or if I am even a reliable figure for her. Should I ask one of the Air Nomad nuns for advice?
At least I am sincere when I say: "Katara, my main concern is to keep all of you safe."
A gust of wind blows and the kids tremble. Tenderness fills my heart. It isn't the accustomed one I feel towards Aang alone, yet it is present. In this instant, these are my children.
I have to keep them safe.
"We will go since we are the three most experienced benders," I explicate further, "We have more chances of defending ourselves."
Dark shades of disappointment cross Katara's face despite of her nod.
Her apprehension lingers while we ready Appa and Druk for the ride. Hawky surprised Zuko with his insistence to accompany us, and Momo did the same by climbing to Aang's head.
The two loyal pets gave each other a spirited hiss before clinging lovingly to their respective owners.
"Awww!" Aang coos. "They are jealous! That's cute!"
"It wouldn't be if they were the same size as Appa and Druk," Zuko points out.
Druk glances at Zuko with a frown, right before turning around in a huff.
"Druk, come on! You know I didn't mean it like that!"
"It's okay, Zuko, you can ride on Appa, too."
Appa himself crawls closer to give Zuko a long, affectionate lick.
Druk spins back around for goading Zuko away from Appa, growling at the latter.
"Everybody wants to put their hands on Zuko," Sokka jokes.
Katara hugs Aang farewell as we mount our rides. "Take lots of care, Aang."
His smile is radiant.
She turns to Zuko once she lets go. "You, too, Zuko."
The way he catches her in a hug is out of pure instinct, surprised when she threw her arms around his neck. It is noticeable how, little by little, his face changes from startled to a small, softhearted smile.
I feel another smile forming on my own face.
Katara waves us goodbye while Sokka only watches us exit. Hawky and Momo fly on their own close to Appa and Druk.
The Air Temple hasn't changed, it is abandoned and, by all means, dead and frozen. Memories of just as much of a frozen culture float in a ghostly manner. Ghosts of people that I knew and cared for, friends I never got to see grow up. The snow accentuates that empty aura – the one of a cemetery. Or rather, the one of the very inside of a crypt.
Despite it, Aang, of course, beams at the sight of the entrance. "C'mon, guys!"
He brings life back to it.
Zuko
Aang, Hawky, and Momo inspect Kyoshi's sculpture in the hall of statues – the last two standing one on each shoulder while Aang peeks his head from behind her back.
"Zuko, no matter how long I look at it, it's just a simple statue. I can't even feel spiritual energy coming from it."
"I'm telling you it talked to me last time we came!" I argue.
"And we believe you," Gyatso appeases me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Only that perhaps this isn't the most effective method to contact her spirit anymore."
"How do you say it was that she talked to you?"
That's the problem, I don't remember how she talked to me. Whenever I return to that moment, something obscures my eyes, there's a lapse in there. "I… I was walking in front of her – the statue, I mean. Katara and Sokka said I stared at it for a while. And after that… I knew her name all of a sudden."
"She only told you her name? Nothing else?"
"I don't know what she told me!"
"Maybe Kyoshi communicates with you via your subconscious," Aang deduces. "That's why you can remember so much while you're awake."
"And how do we fix that?"
He shrugs. "Guess you'll have to sleep."
"Am I asleep yet?"
It's admirable the way Sokka manages to put so much killer instinct in a single word: "No."
"Am I asleep yet?"
"No."
"Am I asleep yet?"
"Oh, I'll put you to sleep." I hear the dull sound of his club hitting his palm.
My eyes open glaring at him. "You're the one that said 'let's keep an eye on him'."
When we returned to the village, Aang went on explaining how I needed to sleep to grasp more messages from Kyoshi and figure out whatever she is trying to tell me. Sokka said something about me becoming 'possessed' while I was asleep, so he, Aang, and Katara agreed to keep up guards on me to make sure I didn't get into the Avatar State and broke the mountains.
"How was I supposed to know that you were sleep-annoying instead of sleep-walking?"
"I told you to not fight while Aang is asleep," Katara keeps on lulling Aang's already sleeping body.
"This is my tent," I emphasize. (And they all invited themselves to sleep here!)
"And that's the only reason why we aren't kicking you out," Sokka counters.
"Okay, it's time to change guards," Katara stands and walks over to my sleeping mat.
She's still in her sleeping clothes – her undergarments. Of course.
She kneels beside me. "What?"
"Nothing," I rip my eyes away from her. (I… I wasn't staring.) (I just… I just…)
Thank Spirits it is night and nobody can see me blushing!
"Hope you aren't disappointed that it's my turn to guard you," Katara teases.
"Of course not." My eyes inevitably follow the weak ray of moonlight illuminating her clavicle; a spark of… something… ignites within me. "If anything, I'm glad, since insufferableness isn't the one that's genetic."
"I heard that!" Sokka complains from his mat.
Katara and I grimace at him. I lay down once again.
"Am I asleep yet?"
"No."
I growl. "Perfect! I can't even do this right!"
She makes a face. "Mmmmmm…"
"What is it?"
Her expression lingers for a long moment before answering, "I know it's not my place, but… for what you have told me… pressuring yourself has… never worked… especially for… uh… Avatar stuff."
"I'm not pressuring myself." Despite being so antsy that my hand is springing and shaking. Katara puts hers over it to stop.
"Maybe if you think about something you enjoy in order to relax," she suggests. "Say… what do you like to do for fun?"
"Nothing."
Her face falls. The next question starts with a long sigh: "Okay… Is there anything you remotely enjoy doing?"
I enjoy talking to you.
"Reading," I say instead. "And feeding turtleducks."
She's quick to – poorly – hide her pert little smile.
"You say 'Awww' and Spirits help me…" I warn her.
"But it is worth an Awww!" she disputes, still smiling, her eyes twinkling, "You are adorable."
"Excuse me, I'm the Prince of the Fire Nation. Or at least I used to be. I'm kind of a scary guy."
"Not to me."
She lies down next to me – if it is for emphasizing her point, I don't know – comfortable, content. The natural amused sparkle of her eyes is enough to distinguish them in the dark.
A smile lifts the corner of my own mouth. I roll to my side and face her.
"So you like reading…" she starts, pensively.
"And feeding turtleducks, don't forget that part," my voice is lighthearted – so much it surprises me – "They are things I used to do with my mom."
"Oh," she murmurs. "Sounds lovely. Your mom sounds lovely, I mean. I used to sew with my mom, she's the one that taught me. She also taught me how to cook, make tribal jewelry…"
My eyes go to her throat once her hand reaches the pendant of her necklace. The way she holds it is a particular one, her fingers circle it in the closest thing to an embrace. A sudden need to comfort her make my palms itch, but… It is really not my place, I shouldn't disturb her.
"Your mom sounds lovely, too," I whisper.
"Thanks... She was the best."
Her eyes grow heavy shortly after that.
I watch their moonlight-blue disappear after every blink, counting them. Sleep carries me away bit by bit…
I dream of a big city.
It splits in two halves at its centers, flames arise from the breach. A pair of eyes appear in front of me – the demonic eyes I recognize from unwanted memories. They transform into the Xiezhi's, along with its horn. It charges against me. There's the pain of a stab, coursing heat of blood.
When I scream, my voice is the one of a woman's.
I wake up with a cutting gasp. Fear, betrayal, and guilt – they are foreign, second-handed – intermix with mine. The need to escape from them makes me antsier than I was, I want… I need to feel like myself again! This isn't me. Avalanches of distant, unknown thoughts flood my head crushingly!
'Kyoshi, stop this!'
"Zuko? Are you okay?"
My eyes dart and skim over the outline of Katara's silhouette. Her marked waist, pronounced curves. The moonlight-blue of her eyes is the same shade as the one outside spreading through midnight; they have that same ghostly light that exists on its own.
Wonder strikes me hard looking into them. I feel myself attracted to that ethereal light. Her breath crashes against my mouth, reminding me she is human… she is present…
She relaxes me… makes me hyperaware...
She is beautiful…
I stand up and away from her before doing something either of us might regret.
I'm panting, "Yeah. I'm fine."
No, I wasn't effing fine, and that is only obvious the next morning!
Breakfast consists in the four of us lying flat on our backs at the dining area, looking at the sky, getting annoyed at the sunlight, and taking turns to groan in unison and then in disarray.
Make that 'the three of us' – Sokka, Aang (because he claims he didn't enough sleep for someone that's still growing), and me – Katara is helping prepare breakfast and showing everyone there is one normal person in our group while the rest of us embarrass her in public.
(It's not intentional, we are… exhausted.)
"How is it that she's so cheery?"
"She's one of those people that can face everything with a smile."
Gyatso comes to greet us. Or something like that. "Kids, you look horrible."
"Thank you," I say dryly – and too far gone to care if it sounds honest.
"Someone spend the night trying to put up a séance," Sokka says.
"I'm telling you what happened was real." (Great, tiredness took away my screaming.) "I had Kyoshi's memories, memories of… something."
"Eloquent till the end."
"Don't fight," Gyatso reprimands us, with that kind of hard tone that makes you just about to protest, but ultimately stay quiet.
Katara comes over to our spot with another bowl. "C'mon, boys. I made you a special salad today for cheering you up."
"You know what would cheer me up?" Sokka asks in overexcitement. Rhetorically so. "Seal jerky. I. Want. Seal. Jerky!"
Aang gags. "Puaj! Seal jerky."
"When we get to the North Pole, I'll get you seal jerky, Sokka," I declare.
"You're gonna need a whole lot more than that to compensate for messing up my 'beauty sleep schedule'. You know I hate eye bags!"
Maybe I should take off his idea from last night and put him to sleep.
"Don't be like that, Sokka," Katara tells him, "Check it, I put cloudberries[1] in the salad in case you felt homesick."
"Katara…" he says her name slowly "… when have I ever eaten a salad?"
Gyatso intervenes again as she offers and serves his plate, "You should be more appreciative of your sister, Sokka."
"What are you talking about? Of course I appreciate my little Kat!"
"Don't call me 'Kat'," she answers with a frown.
I nearly choke on the salad's berries. "Kat?"
"It's the nickname I put her when we were little. Get it, because she is grumpy as a cat?"
"Stop it," she blurts his way.
I have to cover my mouth before Katara assassinates me. I can't believe I am laughing… or close to it. It feels so… genuine. (Is this what Katara feels whenever she gets the upper hand to tease me?)
"Don't even think about it," she points a reproving finger at me.
"But…"
"You say it once and Spirits help me…"
"Oh, but it is so adorable…"
She glares at the recall of our exchange from last night, the corner of her mouth curling up. "I hate you right now."
Relief warms in a comforting way, makes my smile – as small and wounded as it is – more pronounced. "No, you don't."
She doesn't hate me.
Whoa, it is weird to sound so sure!
Suddenly our eyes widen. Our heads turn slowly to one side. Gyatso, Sokka, and Aang are watching us intently, Sokka eating the berries from the salad like they were popcorn.
"Go on…"
Katara and I turn away.
Agni, what… what is wrong with me? Katara wants us to be friends!
(But we were acting like friends, right? It is normal for friends to talk like that.) (Right?) (Right?)
I'm losing my mind. And why do I need to punch myself? Stupid!
"Kids, you should go packing once we finish breakfast," Gyatso says, finishing the salad Katara prepared. "We are going camping."
Aang's eyes light up, "Camping? Where?"
"The Huànxiàng hú[2], the lake."
Aang's jaw drops. "The Lake of Reincarnations?"
"There is a Lake of Reincarnations?" Sokka's typical skepticism is evident and Katara gives him a scolding glare before he can proceed.
Gyatso nods. "It is the lake where spiritual beings go to seek guidance through visions. It sounds appropriate for Zuko's current problem."
"But I'm not a spiritual being." In any way, shape, or form. If I was, I would get in contact with Kyoshi's spirit by myself and save us all the trouble.
I am the trouble.
"We don't lose anything with trying, and like the name says, the lake is meant to be a window to the past and the future. Those can reveal lots of messages."
We end up following his plan and packing up after eating, as little luggage as we'll need to spend the day at the lake and return to the village tomorrow morning. Gyatso is also the one that rides Appa and guides the way to the lake. It's hard to tell what I was expecting after hearing the name 'Lake of Reincarnations', but… It's hard not to gasp once we get there.
The Huànxiàng hú is circled by mountains, four of them that shape a slope and the water lays unnervingly inert at the bottom – a vertical cave digging itself to the center of the earth. The lake itself is oval-shaped, mirror-like, so clear I keep seeing an actual window when I look at it, a window to another dimension, one where the sky is the same but the clouds are upside down.
Druk and Appa to stay at the peaks while we work our way down – Momo and Hawky following in tow.
It is warmer around the waters. Hot, humid.
"It looks like a normal lake to me," Sokka asserts when he looks at his reflection in the waters.
Katara and Aang come closer, studying their intrigued faces next to Sokka's unimpressed one. I make a place for myself between them, all their movements are replicated on the surface. Not mine though. My reflection doesn't show. The lake shows my friends' eyes bugging out staring at a seemingly empty space.
"Not to me."
No matter how long I meditate, I can't get in contact with the spiritual energy – and it's not that I can't tell something about this lake is… unusual? I… I can feel it.
Simmering, buzzing under my skin.
It is a sensation, not something I can control. The same way I can't control my blood flowing through my veins, the energy reaches that level of deep-rooted in me…
"How is it going down here?" Gyatso slides down the side of one of the mounts. The one in the east, behind my back.
"Not good," I growl with an annoyed frown. "Can we go home now?"
At least there I'm closer to a place that actually reminds me of Kyoshi.
"Hey, you called the village 'home'!" he observes, brightening and sitting next to me.
I did? "I… I meant…"
"You don't have to be embarrassed."
"It's not that."
"So you aren't embarrassed to call the village your home…" he muses.
"Do you have to make everything sound sappy?"
"Life is too short to make it unlovable."
Says the guy that is hundred-eight years old.
"I take it that you haven't mastered the art of meditation yet," he changes his focus to the real problem here.
"No," I growl again. And then once again while screaming to the skies like a lunatic: "Why am I so bad at this?"
"You are barely starting your Avatar training, it is unfair to qualify you as 'good' or 'bad' at this point."
"Oh, but I'm bad at a whole lot of things."
I stand up, trying to release the anger by moving. Here is the instinct to… do something – anything, anything that makes me… feel, that distracts me – again.
Gyatso follows me. "Like what?"
"Apparently, at being a deadly assassin. Or at least a murderous machine. At being a mindless pawn, a worthy successor, at taking my own decisions because I always take the wrong one! I'm bad at defending myself! I'm bad at not being weak! I'm bad at bending, for Spirit's sake!"
"Your bending is perfect."
"It wasn't always like that; I'm a slow learner, okay?" There's some unnecessary bitterness in that last part which I don't want to analyze. "Point is I am bad. Even at getting my brain washed because I'm stupid enough to break out from that."
"Is it bad to break free from brainwashing?"
"It isn't easy," I admit. My voice becomes a whisper that unties itself – and my very self – from the screams. "It isn't safe. You have to unlearn and relearn many things. And you have to do it on your own, you have to grow and keep yourself on your feet. You have to fight all the time, to not turn back and keep moving forward. And it hurts… It hurts knowing you've hurt the world, too."
The wind blows, none of us react.
"Would you happier if you didn't feel that way?"
"No."
That wouldn't me. I… I like this person that I am now. As afraid as I am of transforming into family.
I knew who I was when I was banished.
Gyatso's tone is cautious, "Zuko, your father…"
"He wasn't evil." (Why am I defending him?) "He wasn't… always evil. When I was little, he cared for me. He loved me, he thought I was a worthy heir… But then I was announced as the Avatar and… he changed."
Another gust of wind blows, dissimilar to the boiling tears in my eyes.
"None of what happened was your fault."
"But I didn't protect anyone." My voice turns throatier, deeper. And shaky at the same time. "I didn't save anyone, anything. Not even the people I loved."
The tears are scalding, streaming down my face. From one moment to the other, everything becomes blurry.
I nearly don't get to see it, by the time I feel Gyatso grabbing my arm, he has already pulled me into a hug.
He is actually hugging me. My tears land on his shoulder.
"Gyatso!" Sokka shouts from the peaks. "Katara, tried to bury me in the snow with her bending!"
"That's not true!" That was her voice.
The two of us rush uphill to see what the heck is going on, dropping the mess of a conversation we had. Still… it's one of those times when there is an unspoken agreement that we can pretend the conversation never happened, and it is okay to pretend it didn't because Gyatso will keep the secret.
He will.
Once we get to the top, Sokka shows off a handmade bow and a set of arrows. "Hey, Zuko! Check these out! I made them all by myself!"
Gyatso crosses his arms, "I thought you just accused your sister of trying to bury you in the snow, Sokka."
(And he doesn't have much snow over his parka to back that up.) "Uh…"
"I didn't!" Katara protests. "And he wanted to use Aang as an archery target!"
"I wanted him to hold the targets so he could move them when I needed it."
The conversation quickly becomes a dissonance of screams and accusations that Gyatso has to break. He agrees that Sokka can practice his shooting but Aang isn't going to stand behind the targets.
I shouldn't be surprised by now, but Sokka has impressive marksmanship. Katara, Aang, and I applaud once he hits another target – a piece of wood covered in cloth with a circle he painted himself.
He bows to us. "Thank you, thank you, gentle crowd."
"Can I try it?" I ask.
"Sure, but don't feel bad if you don't hit the marks at first. It takes time to get to my level."
I just take the bow and one arrow once he hands them to me.
Instead of going right for the targets, I take a snowball in my hand. Standing with my back turned to the targets, I throw it their way. And that's I turn and shoot.
The arrow trespasses and disintegrates the snowball, the remnants of it rain on our faces. It's a mere blink before the arrow gets to the target, hitting clean at its center.
I smirk. "Oh, my! And on the first try."
All my friends' jaws are down to the floor, though Katara and Aang's look more like smiling.
"How did you do that?" her question is an awestruck gasp.
"I was taught Kyūjutsu[3] at the Fire Nation."
Sokka narrows his eyes. "You actual… You know what? It's on, your Avatarness. You just earned yourself a rival!"
"I'm shaking." (Not really.)
"Zuko, have you noticed you sound different lately?" Aang wonders.
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Your accent… it sounds different, some way."
"Now that you mention it, I have also noticed it," Gyatso notes. "You sound a lot more like… well…"
His eyes pass over our group. (I don't know why I'm blushing…)
"They say it is a common thing to affectionately adopt the manners of the people you love."
(And, just like that, I do know why I am blushing.)
Aang gasps excitedly, right before clinging to me, "Zuko loves us!"
"That's not true!" I yell on instinct. It comes out more like whining.
"Opposite Day!" Katara declares before joining the hug.
"That isn't today!" I yell again.
"That means it is!" Even Sokka joins this madness!
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Shh! Enjoy the moment, Zuko. Life is short, remember?" Of course Gyatso would say that!
Nightfall came soon today. And I still haven't contacted Kyoshi's spirit!
Oh, well. Maybe it'll come in another dream.
Is that why I hear hooves walking outside our tent?
Their thudding is rhythmic, unhurried, growing louder – coming closer.
Katara, Aang, Sokka, and Gyatso are sound asleep around me; this could be a dream.
By the time I peek outside, the Xiezhi is already waiting for me. (It isn't a scary creature for itself.) (Save for the dark fur that makes it indistinguishable from the night sky.)
It moves to descend the mountains, I follow. It stops to drink from the Huànxiàng hú's waters.
The overwhelming spiritual energy enlivens my blood as it did this morning. This is real, this is happening.
The Xiezhi continues drinking while I observe kneeled next to the lake. Once it finishes, it dives in.
The waters lose their clear transparency to become moving images, playing themselves one after the other. Kyoshi is in them, younger, around my age. There are two people with her: an Earth Kingdom young man and an older one dressed in Earth Kingdom high-rank military clothes.
There is a Spirit of horrendous appearance taking away the young man. The oldest one takes Kyoshi.
Kyoshi in older years, battling that same old man. The other young man – the one taken by the Spirit – appears. With a sadistic grin, he kills the older one, trespassing his heart with his earthbending like my arrow did to the snow today.
Kyoshi as a full-grown adult at the Earth Kingdom Palace, talking to the Earth King. She declines something he is saying. However, the next scene is her teaching earthbending to his personal guards.
Her eyes are set into mine all through her motions.
When she stands once more, her head is down in an embarrassed pose. The background fades, returns to common water. Her figure remains, raising her head to return my stare. Serve as my reflection.
She morphs to become my father, Sozin.
Then Fire Lord Ozai.
Finally, my true reflection. My eyes, my scar.
My hand goes to it, my fingers probe the irremediably cool skin tissue.
I go back to the top of the peaks, and hesitate… I end up waking up Hawky and Druk alone.
"Shhh!" I jump to Druk's back.
"What are you doing?"
By now, I think a part of me is no longer surprised; meanwhile, another part of me can't help but yelp.
Katara is standing wide-awake at Druk's feet, looking up to me. The moment and the sight of her like that are alike to when she and Sokka busted me trying to leave the South Pole and insisted on coming with me. Yet… too much has changed. The way I see her, what she means to me. Too much for me to see the past the same way as well.
"Sorry," I jump down to look her eye-to-eye. "I just didn't want to wake you."
Her eyes go to Druk – and Hawky ready to fly from his head.
Her hair is loose, minuscule rebel strands flow with the easy breeze. My eyes pass all over them, brushing the waves of her hair, memorizing this image of her: peaceful, beautiful – (there's no word to describe Katara other than beautiful) – with eyes that shine clearer in the dark.
"What happened?"
Don't know why, but I almost have to laugh out of pure relief. "I… um… I had another vision. I don't know how to explain it… I have to go see Kyoshi's statue at the Air Temple. I need to talk to her. Face-to-face."
"I'll go with you." She's already stepping forward.
I stop her, "This is… It's personal. She showed me some painful memories."
"So she was passing you her memories?"
"You could say."
A second passes and I think she's going to persist in going with me. She moves forwarder, a nearly imperceptible step. It is enough to awaken that hyperawareness inside me…
"I'll tell the others where you'd go."
"Wait." I catch her hand in some kind of reflex. Abruptly, in such a strong grip it resembles panic. Panic to let go of her.
She stares at me straight in the eye; not surprised, her gaze is questioning in the quietest, softest way: What is going on? Why am I acting like this? And I can't answer. Not even I know the answers.
"Thank you for trusting me," my murmur travels in the wind towards her, "You are a good friend."
Her skin warms up, "Thanks to you for saying that."
I squeeze her hand in mine and… drop it.
"I'll see you all back at the village," I say, spurring Druk, "Tell the others to not worry."
By the time Druk, Hawky, and I get to the Southern Air Temple, sunrise colors are imprinting themselves on the clouds. The temple is terrifying at night, a palace build on nightmares. The thunderous yet elegant echo chases my steps across the halls.
Until I finally stand in front of Kyoshi's statue. It's funny, how conversational the whole thing is…
"The Xiezhi showed me what you wanted to tell me. You were trying to make me stop blaming myself by saying the War was your fault."
'In a way, it was. I caused separation which led to vulnerability instead of union and strength.'
Her voice is just as I remember it.
Like in a one-to-one conversation, I answer out loud: "None of what happened was your fault."
She didn't kill Jianzhu. She didn't know the Earth King was corrupt. She didn't cause the political division the country suffered because of those. (And even if she had, there is no guarantee their stability would be enough to stand up to the Fire Nation.)
'And none of what happened was your fault.'
Before the last breathe of her last word dies down, her lips move.
Her face colors, her eyes blink.
She's in front of me; human, alive, vivid: "But knowing that doesn't heal the blockage in your mind."
When I blink again with startled force, she's gone as fast as she came. Her statue is still here, but it's just that, a statue; cold and unanimated.
'There are things, Zuko. That you have to leave in the past.'
Trivia:
[1] Cloudberries: A reference to Inuit cuisine, it includes berries such as cloudberries (Rubus chamaemorus) which are native to cool temperate regions, alpine and arctic tundra, and boreal forest.
[2] Huànxiàng hú: It literally means 'Lake of Visions'. In this case, it is a fictional lake inspired by the Lhamo Latso, the lake where senior Tibetan monks of the Gelug sect go for visions to assist in the discovery of reincarnations of the Dalai Lamas. For reasons to respect the religion, I didn't want to portray the actual sacred lake as though deviating from its original purpose.
[3] Kyūjutsu: The traditional Japanese martial art of wielding a bow, practiced by the samurai class of feudal Japan.