down through the hollow sound, an avatar: last airbender fanfic

The caravan returned to joyous celebration. Six bison, each loaded down with four children and a chaperone, returning from the markets on the Earth Kingdom mainland. For many children it was their first journey away from the temple. Gyatso waited patiently, watching with amusement the joy of children returning to their friends, burying them in dogpiles or sharing trinkets. He stood patiently in the crowd, watching. It would not do for a monk to show favoritism.

Several children passed him by with loud, bright greetings. Someone threw a bushel of milksage into his hands, but he did not see who. In the openness of the courtyard, nearly the whole of the temple was gathered to greet the returning travelers.

"Monk Gyatso!" Gyatso smiled, turning towards the voice, only to see as Aang absolutely launched over several heads, and could only try to keep his balance as the boy latched onto him like a lemur. "Hi Monk Gyatso!" Aang chirped, right into his ear, when it was certain that they would not be toppling over.

"Hello Aang. How was your trip?" he asked, adjusting his hold on the boy.

"Great! I met a man with holes in his cheeks," Aang said, puffing out his own cheeks, in case Gyatso was confused. Gyatso nodded sagely. "Many people have piercings."

Aang shook his head. "No! Big holes, I saw his teeth!" he implored, squishing his own cheeks with his hands viciously, as if that would allow Gyatso to visualize the man. "I asked him how he drank anything, but he just laughed at me. That was rude."

Without waiting for a response, Aang began to rifle through his pockets, nearly falling backwards at one point, if not for a well-placed gust of air that kept him upright.

"I got you something," he said, then whooped triumphantly as he pulled a small cloth-wrapped bundle from one of his pockets.

Gyatso smiled warmly. "I thank you for keeping me in your mind during your trip."

Aang did not acknowledge him, but unwrapped the little thing, and held it close enough to Gyatso's face that his eyes crossed trying to focus on it.

"You said they're your favorite," Aang said, inching the dented (and slightly dirty) ginger lemon tart closer.

"They are! Thank you, Aang. It is rare to find such a treat this far south" Gyatso said, taking the tart and holding it by the wrapping. He noted that the wrapping was streaked with… something. It certainly was something, he could say that.

It was an appropriate gift – many children who first venture out into the world return with imprudent gifts such as knickknacks or trinkets – permanent things. Tea leaves, flowers, foods were all impermanent – the simple pleasure meant to be enjoyed but not held on to. Modest clothing or simple ceramics would have also been appropriate – but the children passing around small statues or frivolities would not have them confiscated. A permanent gift like those would be passed around to many people, and never held onto long. That way, many people could enjoy it. The tart was a very appropriate gift, and showed that Aang was applying what he was taught in his real life.

Part of Gyatso wished he had made an imprudent choice and come back with a carving of the Earth King, instead.

Aang glanced between his face and the tart, expectant. Then, he gasped. "Oops," he said before reaching out and gently pinching a ladybeetle that had been crawling along the edge of the tart. He held the ladybeetle up to watch as well.

Gyatso brought the tart up to his lips and – oh dear, that did not quite smell like ginger lemon. He took a small bite, and swallowed it whole, ignoring the fact that the texture was dry and mealy instead of custard-like.

Aang was smiling, watching, waiting for him to take another bite. There would be no escaping this duty.

"Monk Gyatso! Excuse me! Monk Gyatso!" Maybe there would be.

Gyatso turned to the voice that called him, still holding the tart, if it could still be called such, in one hand, and holding Aang with the other.

Monk Lo was hurrying towards him, a frantic look on his face. Gyatso smiled. Monk Lo was only recently ordained, still very young, and was reluctant to be stern with the children (something they all knew and had very little qualms about taking advantage of).

"Monk Gyatso!" he said, then bowed at the last second before launching into discussion. "I am so sorry Monk Gyatso, but I have to ask if you could maybe, possibly take over my class on current navigation, because I've misplaced all the scrolls I had the students turn in last week, and I've ripped the wing of my staff but I didn't realize until I was in the air and now it's massive, and I can't find Lala! How have I misplaced her! She's a bison!" At some point during his tirade, Aang had wiggled until Gyatso set him down, then ran off to a gaggle of children that were painting the ground with pome-plum stain. Gyatso wrapped up the tart quickly, placing it in his breast pocket.

Monk Lo was nearly hyperventilating, and so Gyatso laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You need not address me by 'monk' as you are no longer a pupil."

"Okay."

"And if I am not mistaken, you did give the scrolls back to the children last week, did you not?"

"Oh. I did."

"You did," Gyatso assured him. "And your staff can easily be fixed."

"It can," Lo nodded.

"And have you checked the stables to see if Lala was there?"

"Not yet," Lo said sheepishly.

Gyatso smiled. "I will happily teach your navigation class, so that you may bring your staff to the tailor, go find Lala at the stables, and look over your class material to ensure you are caught up for next week."

Lo looked as though he might cry. "Thank you, Monk Gyatso," he said wetly. He bowed and hurried away before Gyatso could correct him again.

He looked over towards where Aang had run off to, and saw the children gathered in a half-circle around the boy, who was holding a handful of little glass marbles. He cupped his other hand around them, and Gyatso smiled as they began to spin around, slow and wobbly, but picking up speed. Marbles, he thought, when used as a game to be shared, were not an imprudent purchase.

Then, a cry from the group as a collective, the unmistakable sound of marbles skittering on the stone, and most tellingly, a loud "OOPS!" from Aang. No lost eyes from the crowd, and so Gyatso laughed and walked away as Aang ran after the wayward marbles, moving through the crowd like a wind in the tall grass.

"Monk Gyatso?" the young man asked. Gyatso turned around and saw one of the guardians who had gone with the children to the markets hurrying towards him, a tall, thick man with dark brown skin. The welcome celebration had long since disbanded, and warm afternoon light spilled into the hallway where he walked.

Gyatso turned, smiled. He did not remember the man's name. Perhaps he was only asking a quick question. "What can I do for you, my boy?"

The man shuffled. "I wanted to let you know about an issue we had with a few of your students in the city," he said, his voice a deep rumble. Tseku! That was his name.

Gyatso put his hand on the man's shoulder. "Walk with me. What sort of an issue?" Maybe it was not Tseku. It would be wise to avoid using the name until he was certain it was correct.

The man, maybe Tseku, pursed his lips into a thin line. No! Not Tseku. Tseku was a little slip of a man, who often spoke thoughtlessly. This man was weighing his words before he spoke. It was wise, after all, to not use that name.

Choe? Choe sounded correct.

Choe spoke. "Some of your pupils had an altercation with a stall owner, who refused to let them buy his plants. Pupil Sonam blew the sand out of all his desert lilies. He very nearly summoned the authorities on our party. I was unsure how to discipline him, and so I wanted to bring the issue up with you."

Gyatso turned, and the man who was not Tseku but maybe was Choe stopped walking. "And who all was in this party? You mentioned that it was more students than just Sonam."

Choe (Dachoe?) nodded. "Pupil Sonam ruined the man's lilies, but he was accompanied by Pupils Tashi and Aang, who encouraged his behavior."

Gyatso hummed. "Did this man have holes in his cheeks?"

"What?"

"Did the merchant say why he would not let them buy the plants? Did they not have the means?" Gyatso asked, returning to his walk.

Dachoe (yes, that was it) hurried to catch up. "It was on the third day of the trip, so they all had money left. I didn't see what happened, but I saw Pupil Sonam, and talked with the man afterwards."

"And so it was only you, Sonam, Tashi, and Aang in your party?"

"Yes, Monk Gyatso."

Gyatso turned to face him again, without slowing his walk. "Do you think that the situation was so escalated that this man would have been correct to call the authorities on a group of six-year-olds and their chaperone?"

Dachoe blinked. "No, Monk Gyatso, I don't think it was warranted."

Gyatso clapped him on the shoulder, then bowed. "I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I will be certain to discuss it with the boys. Good night."

The younger man bowed respectfully, and then began to return down the hall they had just walked up. Gyatso twisted his lips – he had not intended to bring the man so far out of his way.

"My boy?" he called just before the man rounded a corner.

"Yes?"

"What is your name, please?"

"I am Sernya, Monk Gyatso."

"Thank you, Sernya."

Ah, a northern transplant. Gyatso smiled. Frowned. Who, then, was Dachoe? Oh, life's mysteries.

"Pupil Sonam. I heard about that man's desert lilies. Can you tell me why you destroyed them?"

"Well, the sand was very loose. It was easy."

"Hm. Show me."

"Like this! Phhhhpbst! Like that!"

"Impressive technique! Why did you practice this on the lilies, though?"

"The other plants he had had really thick dirt. It wouldn't have worked right."

"Which one of those plants did you want to buy, before you began practicing?"

"Oh, Tashi wanted to buy some onion-hats to give to Pelbu. Tashi likes Pelbu."

"Did Tashi buy the onion-hats?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I went phhhhpbst to the desert lilies and the man got mad."

"Why did you do that?"

"I already told you. The sand was loose. It was perfect."

"Pupil Tashi. I heard you were in the market for onion-hats."

"Yes, Monk Gyatso."

"Did you know they grow wild at the base of the mountain?"

"… No, Monk Gyatso."

"That is alright! People rarely know that the journey they seek is the one they often overlook."

"…"

"I heard about an altercation in the city. Did the man you tried to buy onion-hats from know they grew at the base of your mountain?"

"No, Monk Gyatso."

"Ah! So this man refused to sell to you for a different reason?"

"Yes, Monk Gyatso."

"Was this before Sonam destroyed the desert lilies?"

"Yes, Monk Gyatso."

"Why did he not sell you onion-hats, then? Were you out of money?"

"No, Monk Gyatso."

"…"

"Thank you, Pupil Tashi."

"Thank you, Monk Gyatso."

"Please give my regards to Pupil Pelbu!"

"Hi, Monk Gyatso!" Aang did not bow before giving him a hug, tight around the waist, as if it had been weeks upon lonesome weeks since they had seen each other.

"Hello, Aang. How are you?"

"I found a litter of baby lemurs!" Aang said. "Do you want to see? I've named them after my favorite fruits!"

Gyatso smiled. Very few of the children let so much of their personality shine through with the monks. Fewer still treated them like Aang treated Gyatso, like a parent instead of a guardian. It was unseemly, that an airbender should have such attachments – more so for Aang, in his circumstances. Gyatso should not encourage him. He always did.

"I would love to. I must first ask you a few questions about your trip."

"Oh, about the plant seller? Sonam and Tashi said you talked to them about it. Tashi asked me to tell you he's sorry that he forgot to answer your question about the onion-hats and he was embarrassed because he had to pass on your regards to Pelbu, but he doesn't really talk to him and so he's embarrassed because Tashi really likes Pelbu."

"Hm. Perhaps you should accompany Tashi into the valley to collect some of the wild onion-hats that grow there, as a gift for Pelbu?" Gyatso offered, taking a seat at the small desk in the room.

Aang cocked his head. "Onion-hats grow in the valley?"

"Yes."

"Cool!"

"I wanted to ask you why Tashi was unable to buy from the man in the city." Gyatso said, as straightforwardly as possible. To offer Aang another topic was to lose control of the conversation.

"Oh, he didn't want to sell to airbenders," Aang said, rolling his eyes. "He was really mean, and Tashi has been working really hard on talking to people better and so he asked again, which was cool of him, but the guy told him to go away, but he asked one more time for the onion-hats, and then the guy called airbenders vultures and he said we were thieves and then Tashi looked really sad so Sonam blew all the sand out of the desert lilies and it got stuck in the guy's eyebrows, which was funny so Tashi stopped looking sad, and I laughed because he looked silly and shouldn't have called us vultures because we don't even eat meat, and so it didn't make sense."

Gyatso raised an eyebrow. "He did not sell to Tashi because he was an airbender?"

Aang nodded. "He was really mean. I thought Tashi might never talk again," he said dramatically.

"Oh, we would not want that. Thank you for telling me what happened."

Aang eyed him carefully. "Are we in trouble?" he asked.

Gyatso shook his head. "Not at all. Sernya simply wanted to let me know what happened, and I decided to find out on my own." He smiled. "Now, where are those lemur pups you found?"

Aang beckoned him over. Gyatso rose and walked over to where Aang had been sitting on his unmade bed. Aang carefully lifted up his pillow and pointed to the small crevice where the bed did not quite meet the wall. Gyatso leaned over and saw a nest made from blankets and a few of Aang's old robes, where five small, nearly hairless lemurs slumbered in a pile.

Aang held a finger up to his mouth, then lifted the blankets up just a bit, revealing the mother, who was sprawled out on her back, snoring in that chittering way that lemurs snored.

"They got kicked out of their nest by a kiwi crane who ate three of the pups, so I brought them here. The mom is Masan, and then," he said, climbing back over to the edge of the bed by the nest. He pointed at the pups, "That's Lychee, that Rambutan, that's Mango, that's Papaya, and that's Melon, cause he's big."

Gyatso hummed. "Do you plan on keeping them?" he asked.

Aang shook his head. "No, I'm just giving them a house until they get a new one. That's what Masan does, she's making them a new nest by the creek. I can always visit them there, if I want."

Gyatso smiled. "That is very good of you, to house them." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I believe," he said slowly, "that there is an abandoned nest in the east shrine they could use."

Aang grinned, leaping to his feet. "Can you show me?"

"Of course! It is very high up."

"And the kiwi cranes don't fly that high so they'd be safe there!"

"Perfectly safe," Gyatso agreed.

Aang kicked his legs, too short to reach the ground but uncaring, talking around his hand in his mouth.

"Iths looth! Iths looth!"

Gyatso walked over to the windowsill where Aang sat. Behind him, the ground was small and far below. Gyatso grasped Aang's wrist and pulled the chubby hand away from the tooth and felt it.

"That is ready to come out," Gyatso said.

"I knew it! I asked Monk Tsering and he said it wasn't ready until it actually fell out! He said he couldn't pull it but can you pull it cause it feels weird when I drink water and I always think that there's a rock in the water for a second and it's annoying."

Gyatso hummed. "Let me see." Then, he pulled back. "Okay," he said.

Aang frowned, then gasped, poking around in his mouth again. "Iths gone!"

Gyatso laughed, and handed the small molar to Aang, who stared at it in awe. "I didn't even notice!"

"It would have fallen out on its own – this way you will not swallow it." He nodded towards the window. "Go on, or the next one won't grow."

Aang gasped, then flitted out the window, one hand grasping the wall still. He hurled the tooth on the roof of the tower, where it landed with a soft clatter. He floated back in and settled on the window ledge again. "What if the sparrows don't eat it? Then I'll be missing a tooth!" he asked worriedly.

Gyatso smiled. "It is not so bad - I do just fine."

Aang shook his head. "Yeah, but you had teeth! What if none of my teeth ever grow and I go my whole life toothless?" he asked.

"You already have most of your adult teeth."

"Oh yeah," Aang said, feeling silly. "When will I lose my last baby teeth?" he asked.

"Most children lose them all by ten or eleven – you'll probably have all your adult teeth in the next year or two."

Aang swung his feet out the window and hung upside down into the room. Gyatso turned back to his reading.

"Why do we have baby teeth? Wouldn't it be easier to just have all your teeth right away?"

"It is not the nature of life to be easy or simple. We are not born ready for the world in many ways – we have no teeth and no language, we cannot walk and we do not know how to bend. Learning is at the core of growth."

Gyatso turned around and saw Aang, face red from hanging upside down from the windowsill, staring at him.

"M'kay," he said, then wiggled until he fell head-first onto the ground with a grunt. He stood and rushed out. "I'm gonna go play!" he called behind him, already halfway gone.

"Have fun," Gyatso called back, trying not to laugh.

It was the monotony that got to him.

Aang loved his home, and always would. Even if the monks went crazy and threw him in jail (after making a jail) and never let him breath fresh air again, the soft light that always bathed the Southern Air Temple during the days, so far above the cloud line, the wide and breezy hallways that echoed every word and step, the chittering lemurs and lowing bison and singing larks, the talk, the wind. Everything about it was perfect.

Except the monotony. It wasn't travel season – it was practice bending, do your calligraphy, learn your philosophy, weed the garden, go into the valley and get hay for the bison, learn your hymns, and travel nowhere fun at all season.

Gyatso was guiding him through an advanced kata. Aang wasn't learning in large groups with his friends anymore, but he was okay with that. They were still learning forms he'd mastered months ago – it would be boring to keep learning the same thing over and over, even if it let him be with his friends.

The large balcony outside the elders' rooms was their usual practice area – it kept them away from the other lessons going on, and afforded plenty of room for the powerful bending (and the powerful mistakes).

Upon completing the kata, Gyatso smiled. "Very good! Keep practicing, and you may be moving onto the next set very soon." Aang beamed. They bowed to each other, and then abandoned the formality. Gyatso wrapped his arm around Aang's shoulders and they walked down the stairs towards the courtyard.

"I wanted to let you know that for the next few weeks, Monk Gopal will be handling your lessons. I am traveling in an envoy to the Western Air Temple," Monk Gyatso told him as they walked.

Aang grinned. "You're going to the Western Air Temple? Are you stopping in the Fire Nation?" he asked quickly.

"Yes, we'll likely make brief stops there."

"Can I come?" Aang asked. Gyatso began to speak, but Aang continued. "I won't get in the way at all, and I have Appa now so I don't even need to ride with anybody, and I've never even been to the Fire Nation yet and everyone else has because I had quail pox when everyone went, and you'll be there so we can still keep up with my lessons and I won't fall behind at all, I promise."

They had stopped walking and Aang was still several steps back, gesturing wildly as he talked. By the time he was done listing the many, very valid points as to why he should go, his hands were clasped neatly behind his back and standing ramrod straight, the absolute picture of responsibility. Gyatso raised an eyebrow.

"Aang, I will make a deal with you. If you get your other instructors to agree that you are ahead enough in your work that you can take time away from them, I would be more than happy to allow you to come with us. The Fire Nation, after all, is most beautiful in the summer." He leaned in conspiratorially. "It would be a rare treat, to see the dragon migrations."

Aang grinned, bowed hastily, and then ran like the wind past Gyatso down the stairs.

Kuzon had taken his cup and inhaled into it, attaching it to his face. His mother swatted at him half-heartedly.

"Kuzon! This is completely inappropriate, set that glass down right now."

He did, exhaling and then huffing into the cup so that it made a farting sound.

"Kuzon!" his mother gasped. Aang laughed delightedly in his seat.

"Hare, control your son."

"Kuzon, listen to your mother."

Another farting sound, before Kuzon's mother snatched the glass away and placed it on the other side of the table. Kuzon's father turned to Aang.

"So, Lang, Kuzon told us you don't eat meat," he said.

"Oh, it's Aang. And I don't, cause airbenders don't eat meat," said Aang, picking at his plate of side dishes.

"That's very strange. I'm not sure I'd like that, eating only vegetables."

"I'm sure they can eat things other than vegetables, right dear?" asked Kuzon's mother.

"Oh, yeah! We can eat pretty much anything unless it's meat."

"Hm. What if you only had meat? Would you be allowed to eat it then?"

"It's not forbidden, or anything, it's just part of what we believe," Aang said, pushing the food around his plate.

Hare ate another bite of horned pig. "Well, what if you were starving, and there was only meat - would you eat it then?" he asked through a mouthful.

Aang blinked. "I don't know. I've never really had an issue with not having enough not-meat things to eat. We have a garden that a lot of our food comes from."

"But if you didn't have anything but," he pushed his plate slightly forward, "horned pig, would you eat it? Or would you starve? Would you eat it?"

Aang shrugged. "I don't think so. I hope I'm never in that situation, is all, I guess."

Kuzon's father grunted, and returned to eating silently, apparently unsatisfied with that answer. Kuzon picked up a steamed water walnut with his chopsticks, smelled it loudly, and gagged. His mother shot him another glare before turning back to Aang.

"You have a garden? That's very nice. I have a garden I tend to, as well."

Aang nodded. "And an orchard," he said proudly.

"That's very nice."

The conversation dissolved after that. Aang dutifully ate another bite of the steamed water walnuts. He glanced mournfully at the plate of bean sprouts, but they had been rendered in the same pot as the horned pig. Next to him, Kuzon burped loudly.

"Kuzon!"

"Sorry."

A loud scrape sounded as Kuzon pushed his chair out from the table and stood, grabbing Aang's hand and pulling him away from the table as well.

"We're gonna go play!" Kuzon said, already halfway to the door.

"Thank you for dinner!" Aang called as he was dragged away. "It was nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too, Lang."

Kuzon rolled his eyes as he pushed Aang out the door. "Aang, Dad! It's Aang, not Lang!"

The door slammed behind them, leaving Kuzon's parents sitting with two extra plates and chairs not pushed in.

"Nice boy," Kuzon's mother hummed. "Shame that he's sick."

Kuzon's father looked at her quizzically. "Sick?" he said through a mouthful of food.

"He's bald," she whispered, like a terrible secret.

"He is?"

"You didn't notice?"

"No, I did. I thought they were all bald, those types?"

"From the Air Nation?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"… Who's their king, again?"

Aang dropped them on the roof of the hostel, tumbling a little with the added weight. Kuzon curled protectively around the bag until his momentum stopped. He laid still for a moment before lifting his head up to look at Aang, grinning wildly.

"Mission accomplished. Target acquired."

Aang laughed, and they sat cross-legged on the roof with the bag between them. "Behold," Kuzon whispered reverently, "the best egg custards in the city, from the crotchetiest old man in the whole world."

"I can't believe he throws these away every day."

"I can't believe he gets mad when people dig through his garbage."

"I can't believe how amazing these egg custards are," said Aang through a huge mouthful.

"I can't believe you could fly us out of there before he caught up. I can't believe you can fly!"

Aang grinned. Being able to fly was fun, but it was easy to take advantage of when everyone you knew could fly. Taking people flying who'd never flown before? That was the most fun.

"You've really never met an airbender before?"

Kuzon shook his head. "Never. We've seen the bison, sometimes, but I've never met one before you."

Aang shrugged. "That's okay. I've never been to the Fire Nation before now, either."

"Really?" Kuzon's eyes were wide in surprise. "It's the best nation in the world."

Aang laughed lightly. "It's beautiful, and Monk Gyatso told me that the dragons would be migrating soon. We were hoping to see it."

"I wish I could see the Air Nation."

Aang blinked. "We're not a nation. We're nomads."

"What's that?"

"Well, there's the air temples, and that's where I live and where everyone learns airbending, but most airbenders are like wanderers."

Kuzon's brows furrowed. "You're homeless?"

"No, airbenders just travel everywhere and meet people and have fun!"

Kuzon grunted. "That sounds better than going into the military. My whole family was in the military and they want me to go be a soldier when I'm older. But it's boring. It's like school, like all you do is learn stuff and take orders and protect the country," he huffed.

Aang looked at him earnestly (as much so as he could with egg custard on his face). "That's very noble, to learn things and protect people. That's what Monk Gyatso says."

Kuzon's face crinkled. "Blegh," he said.

Aang didn't push.

"The dragons migrate along the Kuroi Mizu river. I've never seen it before, but that's what my teacher said. He's super boring, but he's usually right."

"Awesome! Monk Gyatso saw them once, but he said it was years ago."

"Is Monk Gyatso your dad?"

Aang shook his head. "No, he's my guardian."

Kuzon frowned. "Like a bodyguard?"

"No, like, he's in charge of teaching me and taking care of me until I'm an adult. All the monks are guides and teachers for us, but they'll all have one or two kids who they're the guardian of. Monk Gyatso's mine."

Kuzon looked at him blankly. "Like a teacher that never stops being boring."

"No. Guardian. Gyatso's not boring, he's fun!"

Kuzon scowled. "Teachers aren't fun. They're boring and mean, and they whack your hands with rulers when you do something wrong." He demonstrated by whacking the burlap bag with his hand.

Aang pulled the bag away and held it to his chest. "They hit you?"

"No, whack. It's different."

"Not really?"

"Yes."

"Well… Monk Gyatso and the other teachers would never hurt any of us. And they're not boring, either! Well, Monk Tsering is a bit serious, but the others aren't. Like when we were all going to the Eastern Temple to get our own bison, Monk Gyatso invented a game where we would throw people out of the saddles and see the shapes of the holes they made in the clouds! It was really fun."

Kuzon looked horrified. "You throw people off bison? In the air? Why?"

Aang cocked his head. "They always come back up."

"Oh," Kuzon sighed, relieved. They ate in silence for a moment. "How do you win?"

"Win what?"

"The bison-tossing game?"

Aang lit up. "That's a great name for it!"

"Thanks!" Kuzon grinned.

"You don't really win. Like, I remember Jinjiu went feet-first and it made a perfect hole in the cloud and it was really funny because everyone had been doing really dramatic poses, and someone had gone and flown through while sitting in a meditative position, but Jinjiu's turn had been so funny because nobody else had done it like that. And that was the cleanest Jinjiu's been in a while, because he doesn't believe in taking baths."

Kuzon fake gagged. "Why not?"

"He has his reasons," Aang said cryptically.

Kuzon hummed. "Your teachers sound nice."

Aang's face split into a giant grin. "You wanna meet them?"

"Now?"

"Well, yeah - we were supposed to meet in the square by sundown, and it's almost sundown, so I'll bring you there and you can meet them! Then you can say you've met a whole bunch of airbenders!"

"Okay," Kuzon agreed. He began stuffing the excess egg custards in his sleeves. "Grab some, we can't take the whole bag."

"What do we do with the extras?"

"There's a bunch of cats who live in that alley who will eat them."

"Great!" Aang stood and flicked open his glider. "Let's go!"

Kuzon climbed on the back, and only shrieked a little bit when Aang took off. It wasn't long before he was laughing, just like any airbender.

It was not Monk Gyatso waiting for them, but the large, dark figure of Monk Sernya. When Aang landed in the square, he saw Sernya breathe a sigh of relief that sent ripples through the fountain in the square.

"Aang. We were beginning to worry."

Aang squinted into the still-light sky – barely dusk.

"I'm not late," he said, though it sounded more like a question. He gestured behind him towards Kuzon, who had been shuffling awkwardly behind Aang. "This is my new friend Kuzon! I had dinner at his house. Kuzon, this is Monk Sernya."

Kuzon bowed with his right fist at the base of his left palm, unlike the traditional airbender bow, where the right hand grasped the left.

"It is an honor to meet you."

Monk Sernya bowed back hastily. "Likewise, young one. However, Aang," he said as he stood. "There has been a change of plans. I will be accompanying Jinpa and Samdup to the Western Temple, while you and Monk Gyatso return south."

Aang's face fell. "Why? I wanted to see more of the Fire Nation, and I haven't been to the Western Temple in so long," he groaned.

Sernya shook his head. "It has already been decided." He glanced at Kuzon, who watched the interaction embarrassedly.

"Monk Gyatso will explain why we are changing our plans. We will be leaving tomorrow morning – make sure Appa gets rest. You will be flying nonstop."

Aang pouted for a moment.

"Is Appa your bison?" Kuzon asked. Aang perked up immediately.

"Yeah! Do you want to meet him?"

"Yeah!" Kuzon said at the exact moment Monk Sernya spoke. "No, Aang. We cannot have any visitors to our camp."

"Well, can I bring Appa here?"

"No."

Aang huffed. Then looked at Sernya quizzically. "Wait, is Duga going with you guys or with us?"

Sernya's lips thinned. "We will explain later."

Aang threw his head back and groaned. Sernya turned to Kuzon. "It was pleasant to meet you. We thank you for showing Aang your hospitality, but we must be going now."

"Now?"

"Yes, Aang."

Aang pouted, then turned and threw his arms around Kuzon's shoulders. "I had fun, today! I'll see you in the fall, I promise. That's our travel season."

"Aang."

"I had fun, too," said Kuzon. "Bye, Aang."

"Bye, Kuzon."

Kuzon watched as in tandem, they flicked open their gliders and took off. He lifted a hand and waved.

Monk Gyatso was waiting on the cliff's edge when Aang and Sernya touched down. The deep lines in his face smoothed out a bit when he approached. Aang didn't notice, nor did he notice the protective arm that crept around his shoulders as Gyatso led him away from the camp, towards the bison.

Sernya had explained to him what Aang had been doing when they met up, which was pretty much what he had done in almost every town he'd ever visited, and he hadn't even been a little bit late to the meet-up point, but everyone was acting quiet and unhappy like when he was in trouble. And he hardly ever got in trouble (well, real trouble).

"Did I do something?" he asked Gyatso once they were out of earshot from the others.

Gyatso shook his head, but his face was devoid of the lighthearted peace it usually held. He seemed weighed down, almost.

"No, my boy. We are returning home tomorrow because it is unsafe for us to travel in so small a group." He sighed. "Duga and Samdup were robbed in the town today."

Aang's eyes grew wide. "Robbed? For what?"

"Money, presumably, though they had very little. The thieves were violent, and so Samdup is injured." He paused. "Duga has passed on to the next life."

Aang's face crumpled. "He died?" he asked in a very small voice.

Gyatso nodded. "Yes. So we have decided this trip is unsafe, and to return you home instead of continuing our journey through the Fire Nation. It will be safer once it is travel season, and we can move in large groups."

"Oh," breathed Aang, eyes glistening. He didn't know Monk Duga well, but he had been a loud, boisterous man – fun to travel with, and full of stories.

"My boy, I am thankful you found a friend in your travels. And I am sorry to cut your time with him short." Gyatso ran his hand across Appa's broad forehead. "Air circumvents – it will yield a direct path in the face of an obstacle. But we do not say that the air is a coward, and that it should learn to cut through mountains and walls. Air, no matter the path it takes, will always arrive at its destination sound, and bettered for its journey."

He turned to Aang. "It is important that you learn when to rise above the obstacles, and when to navigate through them. We must now rise above our obstacle."

Aang digested the information for a moment. He rifled through his pockets for a moment before pulling out one of the egg custards and offered it to Gyatso silently. He brought another one out and placed it gently on a rock outcropping. He took a third for himself.

Aang nodded towards the lone tart on the rock. "For Monk Duga."

Gyatso gave a melancholy smile. It was a proper offering – Aang had seen very little death in his nine summers, which Gyatso was glad for. His childhood has been largely full of joy. But he took his studies seriously and honored his convictions. He would be a good man, one day. A good Avatar, his mind supplied, but he cut that thought off quickly. The elders already saw Aang as the Avatar first, and a child second. He didn't need his guardian doing that.

Gyatso took a bite of the tart.

"Kuzon told me these were the best egg custards in the city."

"They certainly live up to that title. It must have been difficult to acquire them."

Aang shook his head as he ate. "Not really. These were thrown out."

Gyatso coughed.

Airbenders were weird, Kuzon thought. Cool, but weird. They wore funny clothes, and didn't eat meat, and could fly.

Aang was fun, though. Everyone was always telling Kuzon to be more serious, and no one at school laughed at his jokes like Aang had. It was getting dark as he made his way home. Aang and the monk had flown off towards the west, so he squinted at the cliffside but saw no lights from campfires.

Fall, Aang had said. Kuzon grinned. This fall.

Gyatso knew they weren't expected back yet, hardly a week after they left.

Aang's friends were delighted to see him, and so Gyatso sent him off to play, telling him he had no lessons for the day.

Elder Dawa caught his eye and nodded towards the halls. Gyatso spared one last look, but Aang had already disappeared with the other children down towards the airball court in a swirl of wind and chatter. The other elders were already waiting, seated. Gyatso's own seat was empty as he stood before the others.

"Why have you returned early?" Monk Dawa asked without preamble.

Gyatso spoke. When he finished his story, the elders were silent. It was not a contemplative silence, but a stunned one – everyone knowing that something must be done but not knowing what.

Monk Dawa was the first to break it.

"This is… troubling. We have been seeing signs from the Fire Nation for some time. But this level of escalation is concerning."

"The nuns from the west have reported similar aggression against travelers in the Fire Nation," offered Monk Yonten.

"How can we be certain this was not just a simple robbery?" argued Monk Tsering.

"I believe Monk Samdup's testimony," Gyatso said lightly. "He made it clear that they were not after money – after all, it is not as though our people are known for leading wealthy and auspicious lives."

Monk Tsering conceded the point with a nod.

"What does this mean for us, then? And what can we do?" asked Monk Yonten.

"I believe all travel in the Fire Nation should be in large groups. We cannot allow anyone to go off alone when there is danger there."

"And how are we supposed to mandate this? Nomads do as they please," said Monk Tsering.

"That doesn't mean that we should not at least advise against-"

"A few instances should not allow us to sacrifice our freedoms-"

"More than a few-"

"Monk Duga is -"

"Enough." Elder Dawa spoke with quiet finality. He turned to Monk Tsering. "We cannot ignore danger simply because we fear it." Monk Tsering looked offended but clenched his jaw and did not speak.

Dawa turned to Gyatso. "You mentioned that Pupil Aang had a pleasant experience. We cannot discount the fact that these instances are not uniform."

He paused. "However, it is wise to exercise caution. Children traveling in the Fire Nation ought to be accompanied – we cannot allow them to go out unsupervised in light of these incidents. All others will be warned to be cautious but may choose their own path. Thank you."

It was a clear dismissal.

They'd been told to stick with each other, and to stick with the chaperones while in the Fire Nation. Aang thought it was silly since he'd been there already and had traveled a bunch of other places all by himself. He wanted to see the Fire Nation, not wander around the market for a few minutes surrounded by adults who would drag him back if he even tried to go do something on his own.

Aang didn't get it – the Fire Nation was great, and everyone he'd met so far had been really nice! And the chaperones said no wandering off, but Aang had promised Kuzon he'd come back in the fall. Aang didn't break promises.

So, he'd get in a little trouble later for sneaking away. He'd made his peace with that. He promised to visit Kuzon but had not promised to stick with the group. It was an easy choice, he thought, as he found the side street where Kuzon's house was. He knocked on the door. Nothing. Knocked again. Nothing. The windows were shuttered.

Aang glanced up and down the narrow street, as if Kuzon was standing down the road watching him try to get in, but there was no one. He could still hear the bustle of the marketplace in the distance, and it was only an hour or two past noon. He sighed dramatically but sat on the steps up to Kuzon's house and resigned himself to waiting. After all, it wasn't as if he'd given Kuzon anything more specific than fall. He couldn't be mad no one was home.

While he waited, only a few people walked down the street. All of them gave Aang weird looks – a strange mix of bewildered, suspicious, and angry. He supposed he made a strange sight, an airbender in the middle of the Fire Nation, staking out someone's home.

It didn't come to a head until about an hour after he sat down, but eventually an older man came up to him (wearing an expression from the Angry category of Looks Aang Has Been Getting).

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting for my friend," Aang said, too bright in comparison to the man's coarse tone.

"Uh-huh, so you can rob every house on the block? Stealing from hard-working people like me!"

Aang blinked. "No, I don't think you understand," he floated lightly to his feet. The man jumped back a foot and a half, but his glower never wavered. Aang jabbed a thumb back at Kuzon's house. "My friend lives here! I'm visiting him."

The man huffed. "You should count yourself lucky I haven't cracked your bald head yet." He pointed a gnarled finger right in Aang's face. "You best get on out of here before I change my mind."

Aang opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, he was tackled from the side and fell to the ground with an oomph.

"Aang!" Kuzon shouted. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to steal!" the old man crowed.

"It's travel season! I told you I'd come see you!" Aang said, strained from Kuzon's knee pressing on his chest. Before he could say anything else, Kuzon was scrambling to his feet, and hauled Aang up by the hand.

"I have so much I want to show you. Let's go!" Kuzon said, pulling on Aang's sleeve.

"Hold on - I have something," Aang said, digging in his bag. "Aha!"

He pulled out a small jar of candied pineapple hibiscus, sealed with blue wax.

"Who'd you take that from?" the old man demanded.

"Is that pineapple hibiscus? Where'd you get this?" Kuzon asked, grinning wildly.

"I got it in Omashu – I met a crazy earthbender!"

Kuzon was still grinning like a madman. "I want to show you this new firebending trick I learned – but I also want you to meet my friends from school, because they didn't believe me when I told them I'd met an airbender."

"Thieves! The lot of them."

"Well, let's go! I can fly you over to them – they'll have to believe you then," Aang said, flicking open his glider.

Kuzon threw back his head and laughed. "They're going to be so jealous!" He shook the wax-sealed jar. "Let me just put this inside – I gotta hide it cause my dad eats all my snacks unless I hide them."

Aang held out the bag again. "I can just carry it for you."

"He's going to take it for himself!"

"Thanks!" said Kuzon. "Alright let's go!" he said, pumping a fist in the air. He climbed on the back of the glider, and the two took off in a swirling cloud of dust.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." The old man glared up at the sky before dusting himself off and continuing on his way.

The schoolchildren, still in their uniforms, were gawking openly. Kuzon stood, chest puffed out with all the self-righteous pride of someone who just proved a lot of people wrong in a very dramatic way. Aang was showing off the marble trick.

"Fly again!"

"Make a tornado!"

"Can you make me fly?"

Aang frowned, putting away the marbles. That trick never awed like it was supposed to.

Kuzon stepped in between his classmates, who were inching closer, and Aang who was grinning sheepishly, unused to the attention. "Now, now," Kuzon said loftily. "Airbenders have better things to do than make tornadoes or make others fly."

"I can make a tornado," Aang chirped.

Kuzon frowned, looking at Aang out of the side of his eye before acquiescing with a nod. His classmates pressed forward, chattering excitedly. Aang took his airbending stance, and with a practiced motion, crafted a tornado in the schoolyard. It was tiny, of course, he wouldn't make a life-size tornado (it was really hard, and the last time he'd done it the elders had given him a very stern lecture about how it's only fun if everyone is having fun and how to size tornadoes responsibly).

It barely reached everyone's knees, but Kuzon's classmates still pointed and squealed and laughed. Aang kept it going, sending it winding between their feet. One boy's belt was ripped off by the wind, and began to twirl in the tornado, which began a new game called throw-things-in-a-tornado.

It was fun, for a bit! Aang had definitely laughed when one of the girls threw her homework scrolls in the tornado, cackling delightedly as they ripped apart. But there were only a few things that actually worked, and they got old fast.

A few of the students walked away together. Kuzon wrung his hands for a moment before gasping. He shook Aang's shoulder.

"I have a great idea," he said. "Fire tornado."

Aang brought the little tornado back towards their feet.

"Fire tornado?"

Kuzon nodded, grinning. "I bend fire into the tornado, then it makes a fire tornado!"

Aang pushed the tornado further back, away from flammable clothes and burnable ankles, then nodded at Kuzon. The remaining students shuffled backwards but looked on interestedly.

Kuzon bended.

It did not go well. If the monks had seen it, Aang would have absolutely earned a lecture about bending other elements. To be fair, he hadn't interacted with fire that often when bending, and it's not like Kuzon had ever tried to light air on fire before.

And compared to the damage Aang's full-size tornado had done to the temple walls, this explosion was nothing. And he didn't do anything wrong, really, it was just a mistake – one he'd never make again! And so he did not run away because he did something wrong.

He ran away because all the other students scattered, and Kuzon was poking him insistently in the side to get out of here, let's go! Majority rule.

He set them down on a roof. Aang suspected that Kuzon asked to go on roofs when Aang was around mostly because they were really hard to climb onto without airbending (Aang wondered how anybody got anywhere without airbending.)

"That's still so cool," Kuzon said as Aang closed his glider.

"Thanks!"

"You guys are so strange. People can't fly, but you guys can, and it's weird."

Aang frowned slightly. "It's not weird, it's airbending. We just bend the currents through the glider."

"Do they teach you that in school? Our school doesn't teach bending."

"Well," Aang said, "we don't have school-school. We have lessons for a lot of different stuff, like bending and philosophy, but we also get taught about how to travel and how to paint and weave. And sometimes we're taught stuff not in classes, like gardening. But we don't really do the whole school set-up like you guys do."

Kuzon stared at him. "What about your history?"

"Oh, we learn history. We actually just finished learning about the life of Avatar Yangchen – she was the last Air Nomad Avatar."

"We learn about Fire Nation history, but also about the other nations. I just had to write a whole essay comparing our honor code with the laws of the Earth Kingdom – they're crazy over there."

"How?"

"They don't have an honor code at all."

Aang shrugged. "That doesn't mean they aren't honorable. We don't have an honor code, either, really."

Kuzon shook his head. "That's so weird."

"Why?"

"How can you not have an honor code?" Kuzon asked, throwing his hands up. "Then people will act however they want, and no one can even say anything about it!"

Aang looked at him incredulously. "No? If someone's doing something wrong, then they're made to stop. Like, for the kids, if we do something wrong then we have to do the chores of the person who was hurt by our actions. One time, I accidentally knocked one of the older boys out of the air and he hit his head – he was okay, but I had to clean out the stables for two weeks." Aang shuddered.

"Well that's just punishment. What about when two people have a big fight? They'd have to settle that as a matter of honor. An Agni Kai."

"I guess. We just let people work out their problems on their own."

Kuzon huffed. "That's silly."

"Well, what else is there to do? If they need a mediator or something, someone will help them."

"He'll decide who's right?"

"No, he helps them come to an agreement."

"I don't understand. How does that restore honor?"

"I don't think I get what you mean."

"I don't get what you mean," Kuzon said hotly, face red.

Aang shrugged, undisturbed. "That's okay. We can just be different."

Kuzon blinked. "Okay."

The strange charged energy dissipated immediately. Kuzon supposed that was just an Air Nomad thing – if he'd gotten into an argument like that with anyone at school, they'd just keep going until they were both red in the face and out of breath and maybe fighting, really fighting. Did Aang even realize they'd had an argument?

"How long are you staying this time?" he asked, because Air Nomads are strange, and don't fight even when they can or should. He doesn't know why they do it, but if Kuzon had to guess, knowing Aang, he'd say it was because they simply have better, more fun things to do than argue.

Aang smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "We're staying in the area for about four days, but I kind of… er… snuck away from the group. They'll be mad. I might not be able to sneak away again."

"Why'd you sneak away?"

"We're supposed to stay in a big group," Aang said.

Kuzon frowned. "You didn't do that last year."

"Last year I wasn't traveling officially. I just tagged along with Gyatso and a few of the other monks who were going to the Western Temple. We have a lot more people this time, and I think they're afraid of kids getting lost."

Kuzon grinned shyly. "Well, the night after tomorrow, we're having the Hikari Ongaku Festival and I think you would really like it. Can you come?"

"Yeah!" Aang said. "I love festivals! We just had the Moon Peach Blossom Festival – what's the Hikaron Goku Festival about?"

Kuzon rolled his eyes. "Hikari Ongaku, Aang. It's really fun! There's singing and music and dancing, and there's plays about the Fire Nation you can go see, and they have this thing where they give you a nut roll, but they dip it in liquid sugar and it makes it like glass. It's the best," he declared. "Can you come?"

Aang nodded decisively. "I'll be there."

"What if you can't sneak away again?"

"I shouldn't have to – I'll tell Monk Gyatso I was with you, and he knows you're my friend, and he'll for sure let us come. Probably a lot of us will!"

Kuzon stood up, pumping his fist in the air. "Yeah!" he shouted, before losing his balance. Flailing his arms wildly, he nearly fell off the roof where they were sitting, but Aang grabbed the back of his pant leg and pulled him back down into a sitting position. Kuzon rubbed the back of his neck, ears red.

"Er… I'm glad you can make it."

Aang just smiled, made no fun of his near-tumble, and said, "Me too!"

Airbenders. Weird.

The lights of the festival made it seems less like nearing midnight, and closer to dusk. And so many people! The music that floated down the street was high and lively, and a few of the people walking by were singing loudly. They were stumbling and holding onto each other. Aang thought they might be drunk, but he was really bad at telling when people were drunk.

He held the little glass bottle in his hands – the drink was interesting (he'd never tasted juice that was so… spicy).

"Are you gonna drink that?" Kuzon asked, still holding his empty bottle. Aang shook his head and handed it over. Kuzon made a show of drinking it hands-free, throwing his head back and holding the bottle between his teeth. Aang clapped politely.

Kuzon laughed, then coughed, then lost his hold on the bottle. It dropped to their feet, where they were sitting on the low wall – Kuzon, face dripping, coughed roughly. Aang thumped his back. Kuzon, still coughing, threw him a thumbs-up and Aang bent a gust of air in his face, drying it and pulling his hair out of its knot. It framed Kuzon's face like a cloud.

"You okay?"

"Yup, yeah," Kuzon coughed. "Ugh. That was not worth it."

"It was a neat trick," Aang offered kindly.

"Eh. Oh, the play is starting!" The wall they were sitting on was a bit far from the stage, but Kuzon had assured him it was the best spot to watch from, and they didn't even have to buy a ticket. The curtain opened to an empty stage, with nothing but the scenery. Then, a man in Earth Kingdom regalia walked onstage – he was short and bald and spoke in a squeaky voice. The narrator spoke from an unseen place, telling of the little Earth Kingdom town, and the tyrant king who ruled it. Aang watched with waning interest – from their vantage point, it was hard to see very well, and the music from other areas conflicted with the dialogue of the play. Besides, a lot of the plays Kuzon had told him about had the exact same plot. They could do with a little variety.

Huh.

"Kuzon," Aang whispered.

"Huh?"

"Want to make the play more interesting?"

Kuzon readjusted the fake mustache. He could (would) get in a ton of trouble for this. He never did big stuff like this, but the way Aang proposed things, making them seem reasonable and fun and harmlessly mischievous let him think that getting in trouble every so often was fine.

He spied Aang from across the stage, his arms circling the little bundles of hastily prepared costumes. The play was nearing the climax, the Earth Kingdom tyrant throwing paper mache boulders at the plucky Fire Nation soldier who faced him down. She started her monologue on the "new era of glory" and Kuzon made eye contact with Aang and nodded. Simultaneously they charged on stage – the players stared at them bewilderedly, the soldier actress still valiantly trying to deliver her lines. Kuzon bulled over her, projecting past the back row, to the vacant wall where they'd sat before.

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen! We have gathered here today to join Private Manao and King Diren in marriage!"

Confused mutterings started in the crowd, but a few ripples of laughter floated up as Aang flitted between the two actors, pulling them closer to one another and wrapping them in a red cloth, dropping crowns of weedflowers on their heads.

"The joining of these two in marriage unites, now and forever, these troubled lands. Though their relationship started off a little rocky," he said pointedly, waggling his eyebrows at the King actor, drawing an earnest laugh from the audience, "it is my joy and pleasure that we witness their marriage, their unending devotion to one another!" Aang had floated to the thin rafters suspending the slapdash stage and was raining flower petals down.

"Now, Private Manao is quite fiery when she wants to be," Kuzon started, drawling and affected, "but that's nothing that- ow," he stopped as a marble dropped on his head. He looked up and saw Aang pointing into the crowd, where two guards were walking up to the stage.

"Oh, shit - I mean, you may now kiss and seal the deal!" he said as the two guards climbed onto the stage and rushed towards him. Before he could turn and run, a hand grabbed his collar and yanked. He let out a little choked sound, but before he could react, Aang had pulled him up into the rafters which groaned with the weight of two people. It was rickety, meant for traveling and easily disassembled. Aang flicked open his glider and Kuzon yelped as one of the guards shot a burst of flame into the barebones ceiling. He climbed on, and Aang laughed lightly as they flew away. He flew out over the crowd and dropped a few of the extra flowers – some of the guests caught them, and there was a weird mix of boos and cheers in their wake.

Aang dropped them on the other end of the street, closer to where the music played, and laughed.

"That was fun! I just wish you had gotten to finish your speech," he said.

"I was making it up as I went. I don't think it was very funny," Kuzon shrugged.

"That doesn't matter. We got to shake it up! Why are all your plays like that?"

"Like what?"

"They all have the same story," Aang said.

"Oh. I guess people really like that kind of story. But not all our plays are like that – Love Amongst the Dragons is really good, but I only got to see it once, when we were in the capital."

Aang collapsed his glider. "What's that one about?"

The music shifted, and Kuzon's face lit up. "I love this song! Come on," he said, tugging Aang's hand. "I want to show you the Camelephant Strut!"

"The what?"

He'd had to part with Kuzon in the early morning, just after dawn. They were leaving town, and headed north – they'd be traveling all day, so he could sleep on Appa, who would follow the pack.

They parted and promised to meet again next year – they'd both be twelve by then, and Aang had promised to bring cinnamon tea. After the dancing had wound down, they'd sat with a couple teens who were very giggly and a bit floppy, who'd taught them what the older kids considered cool.

In retrospect, flamey-o and hotman were very Fire Nation-ish slang words – but he and Kuzon hadn't stopped using them since they heard them. The older kids had laughed a lot when they said it. They were fun enough, but then they fell asleep, and so he and Kuzon had set off on their own again, to the shopping stalls.

Kuzon had tried to give Aang a ceramic dragon he'd bought, and Aang didn't think he quite understood that it was too permanent and Aang couldn't take it. Permanent things were not meant to be held onto, and people who weren't Air Nomads generally got offended when their presents were given away. Kuzon had shook his head and called airbenders weird again but seemed fine with it in the end.

He did that a lot, Aang thought as he made his way back to camp. He didn't quite get what airbenders did, and dismissed it as weird – he hadn't thought much about it before, but after explaining the same sorts of things to Bumi, who took everything in stride unless he could make it better (which he almost always could), Aang had started noticing when Kuzon did that. But maybe that was just a Bumi thing – he was mad and a genius and probably the most fun person Aang had ever met, and nothing ever bothered him.

When he got back to camp, everyone was awake and eating breakfast – unlike the first day after he'd disappeared, when everyone had freaked out and gone searching for him, they were very casual about his absence. Aang supposed the need to stick in a group was more of a suggestion than a rule. Scanning the crowd, he spotted Gyatso, who was walking towards an empty space with a plate of balep and fruit, yawning widely as if he'd been up all night.

He made his way over and sat next to him. Gyatso nodded silently – he was always quiet when he was tired. Aang laid back on the dirt and closed his eyes for just a moment. He didn't realize he was falling asleep until Gyatso spoke, drawing him back to wakefulness.

"Huh?"

"Are you going to eat?" Gyatso asked again.

Aang shook his head. "They had these nut rolls at the festival, and I had six of them. They were this big!" he said, holding out his hands.

"That's more like a loaf than a roll," Gyatso said. "It sounds like you had fun."

"Yeah! We're gonna do it again next year!"

Gyatso didn't respond, yawning again.

"Why are you so tired?"

"I am an old man, Aang. It only takes one late night to make me tired."

"I was gonna sleep on Appa."

"That sounds like a very good idea."

He did it on accident, the first time. Falling, close to the ground, and he made a ball instead of a dome to soften his landing, which sent him flying (and not in the fun way). He hit the wall with an umph, and when he opened his eyes Tashi and Pelbu were standing worriedly over him. Something wet dripped in Aang's eye, but he just laughed (and in retrospect, it was blood and that he was laughing probably really freaked them out).

"Are you okay?" Tashi asked, panicked.

"Did you see that!" Aang shouted.

"Your head is bleeding," Pelbu said.

Aang stood, forming a ball again – the same movement as a dome and a tornado, but small – something he could hold in his hands. He moved it towards the ground and tried to jump on it – missing by a few inches and doing an awkward half-jump over it. He stumbled and the ball disappeared.

Tashi grabbed him by the arm.

"I think you need your head looked at."

"That was so cool!"

"Very cool," Tashi agreed absently. "Now let's go." Pelbu grabbed Aang's other arm.

"I'm gonna do that again," Aang declared.

"Maybe you shouldn't."

"I'm going to. Where are we going?"

Tashi and Pelbu glanced at each other behind Aang's head.

"… We're gonna play airball," Pelbu said.

"Cool!"

When Aang stopped having headaches, he went into the valley, with its soft, tall grasses and wildflowers to practice the air scooter. The high piles of grass and hay made for gentle landings, and he liked seeing the wild bison that grazed there.

It only took him about three days of working on it before he was ready to show the air scooter off. He tried it on the stone of the temple, then up a wall, then across the side of the bridge.

He showed Tashi and Pelbu first.

"You kinda have to balance like it's a top!" Aang said, demonstrating by circling around them.

Pelbu laughed. "You did this again? You must've cracked your head harder than we thought."

"It's fun!" Aang said, dissolving the scooter and landing lightly on his feet.

"I don't know," Tashi said. "It seems dangerous."

"I practiced in the valley so that I wouldn't hit my head again."

"I think you're crazy for trying again when you nearly split your skull in half last time," Pelbu teased.

"It's a cool trick," Tashi said.

"Thanks!" Aang said, crafting another air scooter. "I'm gonna go show Monk Gyatso!" he said, riding the scooter down the stairs and away from the two boys. Pelbu shook his head.

"Hopefully Gyatso will tell him to stop doing that before he kills himself."

Tashi shrugged. "I think it's kinda cool that he invented a new technique."

"Eh."

His arms were swollen. His legs were swollen. His head was swollen. Aang had known that the tattoos hurt, but his whole body felt like a big bruise. A big, sunburned, swollen bruise.

He'd ripped the mattress off his bed and laid facedown on the solid, cool slab. He was still fasting. Four days before he was tattooed, and four days after, with a small meal on the day of. Four for the nations, for the elements, for the seasons, for the directions of the wind. Four was a sacred number. Four had seemed very small, but it now seemed utterly massive. He drank a lot of water to fill his stomach, but that made him have to use the bathroom a lot, which meant moving and moving meant pain.

So Aang was understandably a bit cranky.

All the same, he couldn't temper his excitement when he saw the blue of the tattoos.

It was an honor, a mark of his mastery. He was so proud, and thankful, and sunburned and swollen. His stomach grumbled and Aang drank another cup of water. The pain would pass, like everything passed, and when it did, he would be a true master. It was just something to endure, like the soreness in his limbs after a long day of training. The pain and the suffering would fade away, and he'd be left with the product of his labor. Skill, mastery, and honor.

He grinned into the stone of the mattress slab. Kuzon would freak out when he saw. He would freak out when Aang showed him the air scooter that earned him his tattoos. Then, Aang laughed. Bumi probably wouldn't notice that anything had changed. He sighed, tired and sore and content. He'd mastered his craft. He'd earned his tattoos. The last major turn in his life was a few years ahead, deciding whether to be a nomad or to be a monk. Either way he'd be content. Aang knew desire could be deadly, and so he only desired simplicity. The major humps in his life were over; he desired simplicity, and he would live a simple life, and nothing could change that for him.

He sat next to Gyatso in the shrine, afternoon light filtering in between the hanging vines of the lattice ceiling, dappled over the mosaic flooring. They had said their prayer to Pehar. The shrine had always thrummed with energy for Aang. The mural of the spirit Pehar, with his wide, serene face and his hands tying the mountains together seemed to stare into Aang – it felt alive. It now seemed even closer, louder, buzzing with energy like the air during a lightning storm.

Aang supposed it had to do with being the Avatar.

He was the Avatar. His head spun. He'd never thought it could be him. He'd never so much as felt an affinity towards the other elements beyond a healthy appreciation.

Gyatso broke him away from his thoughts. "How do you feel?"

Aang shrugged. "I don't feel any different. I don't feel like the Avatar."

"And what would that feel like?"

He slumped forward, throwing up his hands. "I don't know! Avatar-y!"

Gyatso laughed and Aang huffed. "When you sit here, what do you feel like?" he asked Gyatso, who was silent for a moment, his face thoughtful.

"I feel peaceful. This is a calm place."

Aang frowned. "No. It's not."

Gyatso looked at him. "What do you feel like, here?"

"Like… like there's something here. It feels loud, like… like a beehive."

Gyatso quirked an eyebrow. "A beehive?"

"Yeah," Aang said, staring Pehar in the eyes. "It just…" he trailed off, still staring at the mural. Pehar's mouth moved silently, no words forming.

"Aang?" Gyatso asked softly. Aang broke the stare, feeling like he'd just been woken from dozing off. When he looked back at the mural, Pehar was as still and silent as he always was.

"It just seems like there's a lot going on in here," he finished lamely.

Gyatso hummed.

"I suppose there is."

Aang weeded the garden, placing the little springs of green in the basket next to him. Down the row, the boys were passing around a song. It was getting closer to him – and when it was a few boys down, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned and saw Monk Gopal standing over him.

"Aang, we wanted to drill you on a few forms, if you'd come with me. Dema here can take over your chores for today."

Aang stood. "Sorry, Dema." Dema glared at him.

He walked away from his chores, with the stares of the now-silent boys boring into his back

He trained through the whole of the afternoon, and he usually took Appa out on a ride a few hours before sunset, but he demonstrated, over and over, the same form for the monks who shook their heads and said it was not right. Aang knew it was silly – the forms high-level and ancient and flashy and useless. Gyatso found him, close to sundown, still going through the forms, the monks still telling him he was doing it wrong but not offering anything to help.

He grabbed Aang's shoulder and steered him out of the room with stern words for the others. For a moment, Aang steeled himself for a lengthy conversation, a teaching moment about the duties of the Avatar, but Gyatso pushed him gently towards the stables and told him that Appa was missing the attention. He grinned and ran off. Gyatso shook his head - all children needed fun and freedom. Even the Avatar.

"No," Gyatso said, holding up a hand to stop Aang from walking away with Monk Tsering. "As long as I am his guardian, I will decide when Aang trains, and when he gets his butt kicked at Pai Sho."

Aang grinned at him and sat back down. Monk Tsering huffed and walked away. Gyatso smiled to himself. Tsering took himself too seriously. And what could that silly old man do? It was not as though he was Aang's guardian.

Aang moved with grim determination. His hands shook as he laid the scroll down on his neatly made bed. The small bag of provisions bumped against his hip as he walked to the window. The air was heavy and charged in a way that spoke of rain. Thunder clapped in the distance.

Where would he go? He swallowed thickly. He could go south, and sled on the otter-penguins. Or he could go west and find Kuzon again. Or north to the Earth Kingdom. Or he could just flit around the world on Appa and be a nomad and a monk and not spend his whole life training and being told he had to give everything up. He scowled. It wasn't even as if he wanted extravagance or riches or power. He just wanted his friends to not think there was something wrong with him, and to not be sent away to learn airbending because he was already a master, and it was clearly just a way to separate him and Gyatso, and Gyatso hadn't even fought for him.

There was a soft knock at his door. Aang's heart jumped into his throat. The door opened before he could act.

"Aang? I'm not going to let them take you away from me," Gyatso said without preamble, walking into the room.

He watched as Gyatso took in the scene: the note on his bed, Aang fully dressed and standing at the window with his glider clutched tight, ready to leave. Gyatso's eyes widened with the realization, and the look he shot Aang, so full of heartbreak, made his cheeks burn with shame.

"Aang?"

Aang's shoulders sagged. Of course Gyatso wouldn't let them send him away. For a moment, all he felt was relief. And then he dropped his glider with a clatter on the ground and rushed towards Gyatso, still standing in the doorway with his hand resting on the post. He wrapped his arms tight around his teacher's waist and pressed his face into the warm woolen robes. He felt Gyatso settle one hand on his head and the other around his shoulders.

"You're not alone. Even if I have to spirit you away myself, you are not alone in this," he said fiercely.

"Everything's different now," Aang mumbled into Gyatso's robes. "Everyone treats me different."

"That is true. People will treat you differently from others because you are."

Aang pulled back slightly, hands still knotted in Gyatso's robes. "But I'm not! I'm the same as I always was!"

Gyatso rested his hand lightly on Aang's head, trailing the still-new tattoos. "And you have always been different. You didn't know. The others didn't know. But you were. And now that it is known, they will adjust how they treat you. That is not to say that it is fair or right, but it is so and we cannot change it. We cannot make anyone think what we want or act how we wish. We can only control ourselves."

Aang leaned heavily against him. "I wish it wasn't me."

"I know." Gyatso took him by the shoulder and sat him on the bed, settling next to him. He reached over and picked up the scroll, still sitting innocuously, wrapped in its string. He held it in the palm of his hand.

"May I?" he asked lightly.

It was addressed to him. Gyatso had every right to read it and be angry and know all about Aang's selfish plan. But Aang just shook his head, and Gyatso set the scroll back down. Aang, who had been ready to leave and never come back just a minute earlier, leaned against his side and decided then and there that he'd never love anyone quite the way he loved Gyatso. No one, he decided, would ever teach him more or know him better, and that was just a fact of life.

"We will discuss your future with the elders tomorrow. I will not let them send you away. And if they will not see reason, then we can always fall back on your original plan," Gyatso said, eyes sparkling.

Aang looked up at him, eyes wide. "Really? We'd…" Leave? Run away?

"You belong to the whole world. You are a peacemaker, a spiritual guide, and a leader to the four nations. And you are entitled to sixteen years before you shoulder that duty. I intend to make sure you get them all," Gyatso said, squeezing his shoulder.

Aang smiled at him, watery and thin, but genuine. Then furrowed his brows. "You said that you guys told me because there have been signs that we're headed towards war. What signs?"

Gyatso sighed, sending dust bunnies skittering in the corner of the room. "For many years, since before you were born, the Fire Nation has been… ambitious. Seizing land held by the Earth Kingdom. In recent years, they have gotten quite aggressive. Large swathes of land that once belonged to the Earth Kingdom are no longer theirs."

"That's not right," Aang said.

"It is not. But we believed it was a dispute between their two nations. It would not have been reason to break centuries-old tradition and tell you your destiny before you were ready. However, our sister temples had troubling news for us." He paused. "Many worrisome instances influenced our thoughts. We decided to tell you now because the Fire Nation has banned airbenders from their soil."

"Banned?" Aang echoed, eyes wide. "Why?"

"Any airbender found in the Fire Nation is now guilty of terrorism and will be… imprisoned."

Aang kneeled on the bed, facing Gyatso. "That's so messed up! What about the airbenders who live there? Or the nomads who pilgrimage through there to the Western Temple? Why would they do that?" he asked, voice growing louder with each question.

"This comes in the wake of many singular instances of aggression against our people by Fire Nation citizens," Gyatso said, far calmer. "Prejudice, violence. Murder." Aang flinched at his words.

"We cannot ignore these signs any longer. However, I do not agree that our solution should be to throw a child into the maw of war."

"I can't believe this," Aang said softly. "What about Kuzon? And your friend Teruko?"

"The empty hand, extended in friendship, is a blessing. It shows us that peace and love come naturally, and that unbalance is a temporary state that can be fixed. But we cannot be blinded to unbalance – not when evil thrives when there is no one to witness it."

Aang hung his head.

"My boy, do not despair. This shall end, as all things do."

"Great," Aang said bitingly. "Except I'm the one that has to end it."

"You are. In the wake of what has happened, the world needs the Avatar. We need you. But as I said before, you are not alone. And I will not let them take you away."

Aang knew in his heart that Gyatso did not have the final say – that if the elders stood their ground there would be nothing he could do, nothing he could say. They'd run away, he said, but would they really? Could they?

He leaned against Gyatso's side and let himself believe it. A thin and tenuous belief, one he'd have to abandon by the morning. But not before then.

Monk Dawa stared down at him, jaw hard.

"We have already made our decision. We will not renege." He softened, slightly, giving Gyatso a sympathetic look. "I understand you two are close – but we need what is best for the world. He must be sent away."

Gyatso shook his head. "The Avatar is not told their identity until adulthood for a reason. You place this burden on him prematurely, and then show him only the negative consequences?" He frowned. "You will lose him."

"In what manner?" Dawa asked suspiciously.

"Aang is a child, and he will act as a child – his spirit is ancient, but he is a boy." Gyatso sighed. "To treat him as a tool is to destroy him."

"We do no such thing. He must be prepared when this comes to a head."

"You must understand that he does not view it in that manner – you send him, already marked as a master, to further master his craft away from his home? It is a punishment. For what?"

"It is no punishment. Aang must be ready."

"He is a boy."

Dawa scoffed. "You infantilize him."

"You sharpen him like a weapon."

"The Avatar is not a weapon."

"I was not sure you knew that," Gyatso said lightly.

"Enough." He gave Gyatso an appraising look. "What do you know?"

Gyatso straightened his back. "He knows your plans – I did not tell him – but he will not passively accept this decision."

"It is not up to him," Dawa snapped. "Nor is it up to you."

"I am well aware. But know that if you bend him too far, he will break."

Dawa narrowed his eyes. "We cannot coddle him. But we cannot lose him."

"You nearly have, already. His peers isolate him. His teachers make unending demands of him. It takes only a bundle of wheat to crack the rhinoceros beetle's shell."

Dawa clucked. Hesitated.

"I will not send him away."

"Thank you, Monk Dawa," Gyatso said, bowing.

"Allow me to finish," he said, holding up a hand. "I meant what I said when I told you that your affection for him clouds your judgment. You do not train him properly – you act as though he has endless wells of time, and he does not. I will take over his training."

Monk Gyatso blinked. "That is… unorthodox."

"Do you take issue with that?"

"I am still his guardian?"

Dawa nodded.

Gyatso sighed and held his tongue. "I take no issue."

"Very well."

The next day, in the early morning before the sun had fully risen, Gyatso led him through the halls. Aang yawned widely. He and Gyatso and Dawa had been up half the night discussing more about the Avatar, teaching him about his duties and what lay ahead.

He surfaced from the fog when he found himself in front of the doors to the Air Temple Sanctuary. He looked at Gyatso.

"I get to meet him?" he asked excitedly. He never saw anyone go in or out of these doors. Whoever was in there must be either very ancient or very sneaky.

"The Elders have decided it is time," Gyatso said, carefully neutral. Aang knew he was part of the council, too, but whenever they did something he didn't like, he never said "we" when talking about it. It gave Aang pause, that Gyatso didn't think it was time yet.

"What if I'm not ready?" he asked nervously.

"Then it will be made known to you."

Aang groaned. Everything with this Avatar stuff was so cryptic. Nobody ever said what they meant, and no one seemed to know exactly what to do. He supposed that was fair – it had been over four hundred years since Air Nomads had to deal with an Avatar, and probably it had been insanely long since there was an Avatar from the Southern Temple. All the same, he would appreciate it more if they just came right out to say they weren't sure what to do instead of giving him half-answers that meant nothing.

"However, it is time you learned. This will help you, in your journey." Aang shuffled, waiting for something to happen, but Gyatso made no move. Aang stood before the massive doors and took a bending stance. He hesitated, but Gyatso just watched and waited. He took a deep breath, and bended – only gale-force winds were enough to unlock the huge doors.

The Air Temple Sanctuary was massive. Aang walked in the dark room and felt immediately dwarfed by the sheer size of it. The ceiling was beyond where he could see, round walls scaled up and up and up. There was no one inside, not that Aang could see. It was just statues, starting in a circle in the center of the room and spiraling out and up the walls. He walked through the statues, all of them tall and broad, men and women from every nation carved in stone.

Gyatso walked silently behind him. The sanctuary felt alive, just like the shrine to Pehar had. He wandered between the statues, listening to the hum of energy – he turned around suddenly, feeling as though he'd heard his name called from down the hall or over running water. He turned and came face to face with a statue of a tall man with long hair and a long beard. He had a strong face, and his eyes, Aang noticed, weren't stone, but glass or gem that glinted in the dark. He felt Gyatso come to stand behind him.

"These statues are all your past lives, Aang. This is the Avatar before you -,"

"Roku," Aang said softly. Gyatso paused.

"Have you come here before?" he asked.

"No. I just… know."

"He will guide you and teach you what you need to know about being the Avatar."

Aang furrowed his brow. "How? He's just a statue."

"He is a part of you – if you seek to contact him, you will find a way." Gyatso stared up at the statue. "Roku learned airbending at this temple," he said.

Aang turned away from the statue. "Here?"

"Yes," Gyatso said, smiling now. "He was a good friend of mine."

Aang's eyes widened, and he pointed towards the statue. "You knew him?" he asked excitedly.

"He came here to master airbending when he was sixteen. He was a good man. I can think of no one better to guide you."

Aang looked back up at Roku. "What was he like?"

Gyatso's face softened as he looked at the statue. Then, he laughed. "I did not find out that he was allergic to moon peaches until I hit him in the face with a moon peach pie. He retaliated by gluing a wig of bison fur onto my head as I slept."

Aang barked out a startled laugh. "The Avatar played a prank on you?" he asked, still laughing.

"The Avatar is human like anyone else – do not forget that." Aang nodded.

Gyatso gestured to the sanctuary. "This is a sacred place, deeply connected to the Avatar spirit. Should you find yourself in need of guidance, you will find help here."

Aang looked around. The thousands of statues trailing up into the unseen ceiling seemed to stare down at him, dwarfing him. He gulped nervously and turned to face Gyatso.

"When you knew Roku… did he know what he was doing with this whole Avatar thing?"

Gyatso didn't answer right away but walked down the line of Avatars. Aang followed, and they stopped in front of a willowy, broad-faced airbender. She was as stoic and imposing as the other statues, despite her familiarity.

"The Avatar cycle has been the same since the beginning. It is a never-ending chain; no first or last nation to be favored, no element prioritized over any other. Fire, air, water, earth. That was how Roku learned. Air was his second element, and so when I knew him, he was as unsure about his duties as you are now. The Avatar is not born with the innate knowledge and skills of their past lives. It is learned, and it relates heavily to the state of the world during their lives. Roku inherited an age of peace. You inherit an age of unrest."

He turned to face Aang. "This whole 'Avatar thing' is however you choose to address the problems you face in your lifetime, Aang."

Aang frowned. "What if I do it wrong? What if I leave the world worse off than how it would be without me?"

Gyatso looked down at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I find that very difficult to imagine. Good intentions and a pure heart alone are not enough to heal a wound, but mastery and experience will guide your hand. If this world was left to proceed without you, the balance would be devastated." He leaned down and squeezed Aang's shoulder reassuringly.

"While I am no expert, I have known two Avatars. And I do believe I am qualified to say that I believe the world is in good hands with you."

Aang walked heavily back towards the statue of Roku, his thin shoulders slumped forward. He sighed, nodded, and straightened his back. "If he was your friend, then I'm sure he'll be as good a teacher as you," Aang said firmly. "I know he will."

"I would expect nothing less from my friend," Gyatso said. "I am meant to deliver you to Monk Dawa after this, to begin your training."

Aang turned resignedly towards the door. "Oh, come now. I would not deliver you to train on an empty stomach. I, for one, am craving a pinefruit pie."

"I don't think there's any left," Aang said.

"Well, we'll have to make one, then, won't we?"

Aang suppressed a smile. "I guess if we have to."

Aang saw a month pass under the tutelage of Dawa.

Dawa was kind, but stern. Good-natured, but single-minded. He did not mind when Aang goofed off, but only during their breaks – he had little patience when Aang's jokes and tricks interrupted a lesson. Gyatso had never minded, and would always laugh or join in. Aang hadn't seen Gyatso much since Dawa became his teacher.

It was frustrating – he'd nearly run because the elders were going to separate them, and he'd stayed because they said they wouldn't. But Aang had only seen Gyatso briefly during the last month. Just a few minutes here and there at the end of the day or in the early mornings.

Aang resented it, a little – the fact that they'd still managed to separate him and Gyatso, just in a different way. But considering the alternative was to leave and never, ever see him, Aang was grateful for those brief conversations.

At the end of the month, they had music night. Aang hadn't expected it, but at midday, after drilling through all the silly, high-level, flashy, useless forms he'd now perfected, thank you very much, Dawa had smiled and dismissed him.

"You've worked hard. Go on. I'll see you tomorrow."

Aang, grinning wildly, barely remembered to bow before running off.

"Be here bright and early!" he heard Monk Dawa call after him. Aang didn't stop, as if Dawa would change his mind if Aang stayed in his presence too long.

Down in the courtyard, he saw the boys playing the air scooter game. He watched for a bit, and Tashi kindly offered that Aang could referee, if he wanted to. Aang shook his head. They hadn't ever explained the rules to him, and it wouldn't be fun if he was refereeing only because he couldn't play. They all glanced awkwardly at him when he was watching - the fact that he was even there was making them uncomfortable. Aang didn't get it. Just because he was the Avatar didn't mean he would cheat or use other elements – he didn't even know any other elements!

Besides, they weren't like this when he got his tattoos. None of the other boys were tattooed yet, and Aang thought that that would be more of an advantage. But no, it was only that he was the Avatar that got him excluded. It was silly.

Aang left. He knew that he made them uncomfortable when he watched the game, but he wasn't going to be mean about it, even if it made no monkey-feathered sense.

He went to go find Gyatso. He'd missed Gyatso, terribly. Aang found him in the Hall of Ten Thousand Voices, helping decorate for music night. The new masters were working under his direction, the young monks helping to hang the wind chimes and the paper lanterns. Aang snuck up behind Gyatso, and when Monk Lo saw him, Aang shook his head, smiling, and pointed at Monk Gyatso who was leaned over a scroll of hymns. Lo suppressed a smile, dark eyes dancing, and turned away.

Silently, he crept up behind Gyatso, and then jumped on his back with a shriek. Gyatso yelped in surprise, but quickly transitioned into a laugh when he saw Aang.

"I hope you have not snuck away from Elder Dawa," he chastised, but his smile and the hand on Aang's shoulder were welcoming and happy.

"He gave me the evening off!" Aang chirped. "He said I've done very well this month and to enjoy music night."

"Well, I am very glad to hear that," Gyatso said. He leaned down conspiratorially. "I have missed your company, my young friend."

"I missed you, too," Aang said.

Gyatso straightened. "Would you like to assist us in preparations?"

"Sure!"

They spent the afternoon decorating and talking and, when it began to get dark and the monks who were playing arrived to tune their instruments, Aang was sent to the corners of the room to hang thick coils of sandalwood incense from the ceiling. The thick, heavy smoke sank to the ground and followed the natural flow of air through the room. The half-melodies as the monks tuned their erhus and adjusted the tension of the drums echoed through the hall – it sounded like there were a thousand people playing music instead of the dozen who sat at the base of the domed wall that was painted with monks sitting in the clouds, mouths open in song. It wasn't quite what the all-day echo chamber at the Western Temple was, but the hall was specifically designed for music, not just echoes.

It was dark, the only light coming from the lanterns and the oil lamps, casting long shadows on the ground that moved as people streamed in, taking seats around the edges of the room, and up in the alcoves along the walls.

Aang had disappeared in the crowd. Dawa sidled up to Gyatso silently.

"Your boy has done well," he said earnestly. "He has as firm a grasp on his bending as you and I."

Gyatso smiled. "I am glad to hear that. He has always been a fast learner." He'd finally spied Aang again, talking to Sonam and Pelbu. It wasn't like how they used to talk to one another, all overlapping chatter and talking wildly with their hands. Now they frowned and shuffled their feet and spoke softly. Tashi was standing off to the side in their little group, arms wrapped guiltily around his middle, eyes downcast. Gyatso held back a sigh.

"He has," Dawa agreed. "The Fire Nation continues its march into the Earth Kingdom. That have claimed Yuanwei, where the nomads who left us in the spring were staying."

Gyatso pressed his mouth into a thin line. "They were in violation of the law."

"Seventeen of them. We are unable to collect them for a proper burial."

They stood in silence for a moment, the temple chattering around them obliviously.

Dawa broke the silence. "He is a true master, and a prodigy in his own right. You are his guardian, and so I will tell you this. He should begin to learn waterbending. They are preparing to strike us in the heart."

After a long moment, Gyatso spoke. "You are correct. Teruko has informed me that they move their soldiers to the borderlands. I ask only that he be accompanied," Gyatso turned to face him. "He is barely past his twelfth summer, and I understand that it is tradition for the Avatar to travel alone, but no Avatar has ever been trained as a child, Dawa."

Dawa placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "He will be accompanied, Gyatso, you needn't worry about that. We will concern ourselves with whom we task with that once the Water Tribe confirms that we may bring him. We will send word in the morning."

Gyatso seemed to deflate at his words, all the air leaving him. Dawa patted his shoulder. "I am sorry that we cannot follow tradition, for his sake."

"I am sorry, too," Gyatso said, shrugging off Dawa's hand and stalking out. The mountain air was cool when he walked outside. Summer drew to a close, but Gyatso knew there would be no travel this autumn. Not when danger lorded just north.

He'd have to apologize to Dawa for his abruptness. He had shown him a great kindness in allowing Aang to stay, and it was not Dawa he was angry with.

Anger sat on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He'd always hated his anger – what a ridiculous emotion. Especially when the anger he felt had no target – no living target, at least. What a strange feeling, to be angry at someone on the behalf of their reincarnation.

Kyoshi before Roku had lived two and a third centuries. Yangchen had lived a century and a half.

Gyatso felt absurd anger towards his old friend for leaving the world in such a state, dying when he was hardly old. Eighty meager years was quite young for an Avatar.

The burden he'd deposited on his successor was massive. And Aang was still so small.

His anger was useless, poisonous. Gyatso breathed in deeply and let it go. There was nothing to be done for what could have been. The world must act on the present.

Inside the hall, the music had begun in earnest, and the temple sung with one voice so loud Gyatso thought it strange that the whole world could not hear them.

The echo hung in the mountains long after the singing stopped. When Gyatso rose for his morning meditation, he thought he could still hear it, and he listened to the song on the wind as he sat under a deep red sunrise.

The last of the boys and monks had just taken off. Aang stood, not watching them fly north towards the Earth Kingdom, but staring at the rubble in the courtyard where he'd spent his whole childhood playing with his friends. It was broken, the mosaics and tiles all shattered and covered in soot. Worse than that, the bodies. The monks who'd thrown themselves in the line of fire – burned and lying prone and still.

The Fire Nation soldiers who laid like broken porcelain dolls under rubble – those were strangely the ones that made his stomach hurt the most. They'd come to kill them, to kill everyone. In the distance, he heard the pained groaning of one of the bison they'd shot down, the smell of burned flesh hanging in the smoky air.

Monk Gyatso turned him away from the wreckage, marching him towards where Appa was waiting. Gyatso hopped up lightly on a puff of air – they were the last to leave. Gyatso cradled his left arm close, the flesh burned, and robes torn.

Aang heard him speak, but it came as if underwater. He barely noticed the takeoff, eyes still glued to the desolation on the courtyard.

He flinched when he heard his name. Breaking his stare from the shrinking temple, he saw Gyatso staring at him worriedly. He must have called his name several times.

Aang blinked, only just realizing he was crying. "It's my fault," he whispered.

Gyatso's face cracked mournfully. "No, my boy, never think that. It is not your fault in the slightest," he said forcefully.

"You heard them," he croaked. "They wanted the Avatar. They wanted me, and they-," his breath hitched. "Gopal. Lo. Tashi." Dead, lying in the courtyard. Because of him. Aang whipped his head up and looked at Gyatso. "And I killed those people. I killed them. What was that?"

He still felt the soreness, deep in his bones. Could still see the other monks who'd tried to fight the soldiers who destroyed them beyond recognition, the boys trying desperately to escape while the soldiers were held off. Could see Pelbu draped over Tashi's still form as if he could protect him. Aang had watched as Monk Gyatso moved to the front, knocking some soldiers off the mountain, but failing to keep them back. Then they'd struck him – Aang had sat there and just watched as they struck him and he fell to his knees, clutching his arm. The soldier had reared back, and Monk Gyatso raised his other arm, face set and determined and grim like Aang had never seen it, but what could he do when that man was ready to kill him like they'd killed the other monks, and the boys, and who kills children? Who kills monks and bison?

Aang had screamed and it sounded like a thousand voices screamed with him. The world had gone still, and it was only him and the air. And then he watched as the soldier was struck by a boulder, tossed off the side of the mountain. He felt nothing but fear and rage, terrifying rage, as he watched the other soldiers were encased in rock, tossed off the mountainside, crushed under boulders. Watched and only peripherally realized that he was doing this, as the soldiers and tanks that scaled the mountainside were sent flying down by devastating wind, flying to their deaths. Watched as the mountains grew rough and jagged edges that even the most skilled climber would have difficulty scaling.

Came back to himself and fell to the ground. Turned, and saw all the boys he'd grown up with, boys like his brothers, watching him with wide, frightened eyes like he would hurt them next. Monk Gyatso cradling his burnt arm, looking at Aang like he'd been given a death sentence.

Gyatso giving him that same look now, even though they were safe, away from the carnage and the soldiers and their ruthless, faceless determination.

He'd killed them.

"What did I do?"

"You entered the Avatar State – your past lives assisted you in a moment of need."

Aang clenched his jaw, staring steadfastly at his hands, folded and white-knuckled on his lap. He said nothing.

"Aang," Gyatso said softly. He looked up from his hands – Gyatso was still wearing that sad, heartbroken expression. He began to say something but sighed instead. He shook his head.

"I never wanted this life for you. And if I could shoulder this burden for you, I would," Gyatso smiled bitterly. "But your destiny is clear – as is mine."

Aang blinked away tears – the emotional, honest confession had tightened a belt around his chest. He and Gyatso agreed on pretty much everything – Aang never wanted this for himself, either. And for a moment he felt a flash of bitter anger, at the monks and a little bit at Gyatso, too. For letting him go his whole life thinking he could live simply and peacefully – traveling and having fun and just being a monk, when they knew he would never get that life.

But Aang couldn't be mad at Monk Gyatso, really, because he'd been vocal to the point of belligerence about the elders telling him he was the Avatar before he was an adult. And he really couldn't be mad about being the Avatar, either, because it had let them escape and it had saved Monk Gyatso – if he hadn't gone into the Avatar State, would anyone have escaped? His thoughts flitted briefly to the other temples, all alone with no Avatar to throw soldiers off the mountains and into the canyons. His stomach hurt at the implications. He turned his thoughts to the immediate problems.

Gyatso's burned arm looked awful. Part of him knew it was the unnatural red of the sky, the midday sun making it look worse than it was. Only his forearm had really been burned – there were parts of his hands and fingers that were black, but it was only a little red and blistered up to the shoulder.

Gyatso pulled his arm a little closer, breaking Aang's stare. "We can take care of that when we arrive at our destination."

Aang blinked up at him, then looked around dazedly, as if just realizing they had gone a completely different direction from the others.

"Where are we going?"

Gyatso smiled again – genuine and warm this time.

"The Southern Water Tribe."

The town had gathered at high noon for the announcement from the Fire Lord. That meant business, Kuzon knew. The only time their dinky little town got any official messages from the capital, they were usually supremely uninteresting and announced close to sundown. The fact that everyone had to leave their jobs, he'd had to leave school and march in line to the square to hear this meant it was something big.

It was sweltering. Late summer, all the heat baking into the stones of the roads without any of the relief of an autumn breeze. The school uniforms with their high collars made it difficult to breathe. And the square was only half full. He'd surely die before getting to hear the announcement.

He said as much to the boy next to him, who looked at him like he'd grown a second head, or a goat beard. Whatever.

Reserve soldiers had herded the rest of the town into the square by the time high noon hit – a caller from the capital stepped out onto the veranda used by the mayor.

"Today is a glorious day in Fire Nation history!" he shouted from the balcony. Kuzon rolled his eyes. His teacher pinched his arm.

"Today we enter a new era! An era of prosperity and greatness – no longer just for the Fire Nation, but for the world! Fire Lord Sozin, may we honor him, has declared to the whole of the world that he is their ruler and guiding light. There are those who wish to destroy him, and to destroy our nation. Those who would plunge this world into unending darkness – the armies of the Air Nation, the tyrants of the Earth Kingdom, and the warriors of the Water Tribes! Today, Fire Lord Sozin ushers in a golden age! He has dealt a devasting blow to those who would see this world ended before sharing in our generosity! On the day of the Great Comet, Fire Lord Sozin defeated the Air Nation, once and for all. Never again shall their mercenaries stain our land with the blood of innocents! Never again shall their thieves pick our pockets! No airbender escaped justice! Fire Lord Sozin recognized the threat they posed to the world and destroyed them all!"

The crowd broke into raucous cheering. It thundered like rain on a thatched roof against Kuzon's ears, muted and blurred. Despite the sweltering heat, he felt very cold. It was important that he show pride in his nation – his silence would be noted and brought against him. But his mouth felt like he'd eaten a wool blanket. Strange.

Kuzon was not stupid, despite what his teacher told him. He knew how to read between the lines.

The Air Nation, which he knew were just temples infrequently inhabited by wanderers and children and teachers, and their army, which he had never seen or heard of before, and their legions of pickpockets and mercenaries – strange professions for people who valued life dearly and possessions little – posed a threat to the Fire Nation so great they had to be destroyed, which the people around him accepted at face value.

Kuzon felt his stomach roil. From everything that Aang had told him, the Air Nomads would not have been prepared to face an army. Maybe they didn't even fight back. Kuzon hoped desperately that they did.

Aang. His friend. His friend who flew around and laughed at all his jokes and never got offended when Kuzon said the wrong thing. Very likely dead. Kuzon mentally scratched the thought out. Surely dead. They'd learned about the Great Comet all week and had watched it go by the day before. The caller disappeared back into the building, and the crowd began to shift as everyone returned to what they had been doing before. Uncaring that a bunch of children had been murdered by their leader, and that they'd cheered for it.

Kuzon separated himself from the school crowd, moving blithely along. Aang had taught him that people are only suspicious when you act suspicious – if you move with confidence people will rarely stop you. It worked for him, and he ran home, still dark and shuttered during the day as his parents worked. He entered the house and leaned heavily against the door, until standing became too much and he had to slide down and sit, knees to chest. He sat and stared at the sunlight patterned on the floor. His jaw jumped.

Kuzon was no traitor. The Fire Nation was the greatest country in the world. The Fire Nation was prosperous, refined, civilized. The Fire Nation was beautiful and expansive, its people powerful and intelligent.

The Fire Nation declared war on the whole world, and committed genocide the punctuate the sentence.

Kuzon was no traitor. To disagree with the word of the Fire Lord was to commit treason. To denounce the actions of the state was a crime. A very small and brave corner of his heart ached to pack a bag and run – but there would be nowhere to go. No friend with a bison to take him away. A larger, and less brave (but still very bold) part of his heart made the decision for him. He went into his room, and pulled out blank parchment.

His teachers always scolded him for his sloppy writing, and smacked his arm whenever he dropped his hand and smeared the ink. But he wrote carefully, neat and without smudges, everything he knew about Air Nomads. Everything that Aang had told him. It was sloppy and disorganized. It had started off as a list of points, but then transformed into sentences, then morphed into a transcription of some of the conversations Aang had had with him. When he ran out of things to write, he drew their clothes, and the strange tattoos the older ones sported. Aang had no tattoos when he'd seen him last. Kuzon supposed he'd never get them.

When he finished drawing the clothes, he drew the bison, and the gliders. Then Aang himself, his face as best as Kuzon could remember it. It looked closer to a desert ibex than his friend, but Aang had never been offended by small slights. He'd probably have appreciated the gesture. When he was done, and when he knew his parents would soon be home, Kuzon folded the parchment carefully, placed it in between the pages of a book, wrapped the book in paper, and then wrapped the paper in a pillowcase. Tied it up with a length of twine, and shoved it in the space between his desk and the wall. None too soon, because his mother was home. He sat in his room until the sun went down.

That night, he ate dinner with his parents and held his tongue as they discussed the glorious new war.

A/N:

Hi, all. If this story seems familiar it might be because I've been posting it on AO3 for about a year now! I was recommended a fanfiction on FFN and I ended up in my old account so I decided to crosspost. I've got 5 chapters up on AO3 as of right now, and I'll probably update this version weekly until it reaches where the original story is at, then they'll both update at the same time. I've got some extremely long A/N's on AO3 but I know FFN doesn't really offer a notes section, so I'll keep this brief so that I'm not inflating the word count too much. My author's notes are mostly where I've picked up cultural pieces and other inspo for themes or events in the story - not terribly exciting. Thank you for reading 3