I woke up to hear Momma screaming.

"MY BABY IS GONE!"

I jumped out of bed and rushed into the living room, and sure enough, Akash was gone.

Momma was on the floor, weeping.

Despite my feelings for the kid, it still worried me that he was gone.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the paper he was scribbling on peek out from under the couch.

I grabbed it.

I almost had a panic attack when I read it.

Written on the paper were eight words:

"Kira hates me. So I left. Sorry, Kira."

I began hyperventilating. If Momma found this letter, I was dead.

I stuffed it into my pockets.

"I'm going to find him," I stated.

"What? No, you can't. I'll call the police, but Akira, please, don't go out there alone," Momma cried.

I shook my head. "Call the cops anyway, but I'm still going," I said, fear resonating through my body.

And with that, I was out the door. I ran down the steps of the building and bolted outside.

The rain drenched me as I made my way through the streets.

"AKASH! AKASH! AKASH!" I called out until my throat was dry. I made my way through alleys and market places, asking anyone and everyone if they had seen a little six year old boy. None of them had.

What if I had let something happen to him? What if he had been hurt? Little Jia flashed through my mind. I gulped hard.

The old saying was true.

You never know what you have until it's gone.

Because for the first time, I felt myself care about that little boy.

For the first time, I asked people if they had seen my brother.

For the first time, I realized how stupid I had been to blame Akash for my problems with Seiji.

And for the first time, I made a promise to never let something like that happen again.

I made a promise to never blame other people for my problems.

And, by a miracle, I found him.

He was sitting under the statue of Firelord Zuko.

"AKASH!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. The boy looked up. I ran to him, and gave him a big hug.

"You're safe. Thank spirits you're safe," I said, cupping the back of his head with my palm.

"Kira came for me?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, yes I did. And Akash; I'm so sorry," I said. "Can you forgive me?"

Akash nodded, and proceeded to give me another hug.

It was surprising how a child's love could make one feel so happy and free.

We went home together.

"Thank spirits you're okay!" Momma said, squeezing Akash half to death.

"Kira saved me!" Akash exclaimed excitedly. Momma hugged him again before looking at me.

"Thank you," she mouthed. I nodded. Momma carried Akash to his room.

I was about to sit down when the door slammed open again.

It was Seiji. He staggered inside. He was drunk again, and there was a glass of ale in his hand.

He threw it on the floor, and it smashed into a million pieces.

"Pick it up, lazy girl," he managed to say.

I scowled.

"No," I asserted. Seiji wasn't going scare me again.

"What'd you say, bitch? Who's the man around here? Me! AND YOU DO WHAT I SAY! NOW PICK UP THE DAMN GLASS!" he screamed.

Momma rushed into the room.

"Seiji, for spirits' sake-"

"You're right dollface, I could use some sake. Get some for me, now," Seiji grossly demanded.

"Enough," I said. "Seiji, don't you tell Momma what to do!"

"Aw how cute. But you're forgetting everything I did for your Momma!" he hissed. "Without me, you'd be street rats, vermin, a burden on the rest of the city. You're lucky you got me," he smirked.

I lifted my hand to punch him, but Momma held me back.

"No, Akira," she scolded.

"Please, Momma—" I started, but she put a finger to her lips.

"I'll get you your sake," Momma said pleasantly before going into the kitchen. I shook my head in disbelief.

"Heh. Looks like your Momma likes me better than you. Isn't that funny?" Seiji badgered.

"Shut the hell up," I snapped. He chuckled in response.

Momma came back with three glasses of sake and gave them to Seiji. He practically inhaled them.

His words became more slurred, and soon, he was knocked out.

"Pathetic," I muttered. Momma came over to me.

"Please Akira, understand his situation. He works very hard, and he gets stressed out. This is a phase; he will get past it, but we must help him," she begged. I grunted.

"Sometimes, Momma, you have to stop helping others and start helping yourself," I stated dryly before going to bed.

The last thing I saw before I knocked out was her shocked expression.

But I had meant it.