Kuwa's Fine Silks and Kimonos opened at eight in the morning sharp. They expected plenty of custom on New Year's Eve. Even so, neither of the junior assistants expected to see a handsome man outside as they opened the shop door. He was stocky, with impressive sideburns and bright green eyes, and his look was tenacious. He was a man on a mission. He would not be deterred by any means. And he was a considerate fella, so he finished his breakfast churro and dusted off crumbs before he stepped into Kuwa's.
This was Bolin, as the faithful reader might conjecture. And Bolin was, indeed, on a mission. His whole day—nay, this whole trip to Kyoshi Island!—was shaped to the task. He wouldn't be officiating this wedding, true, but Korra trusted him to pick up the kimono that she had ordered from Kuwa's Fine Silks, her own bridal finery. He would not fail.
Of course, just because this was the core and focus of Bolin's day did not change how the day went for the assistants at Kuwa's. When Makoto and Minako (for those were the names of the assistants) opened the shop, they were already deep in gossip about New Year's festivities around the island.
When Bolin entered, the two girls were still chatting. Makoto, a tall girl with pink rose earrings, was opening the window shades and saying with a sigh, "My friend who works in Matsu Park says that there's a private event there tonight. She says they've ordered lots of food, and booked musicians, and they're setting up a double row of lanterns, all to be held by moonlight. It sounds so romantic, I bet it's a wedding."
Minako tossed her head, sending her red hair ribbons waving. "I think it must be an elegant soirée for that mystery couple that came on the Omashu Ferry—you know, after the storm? I'm wild to know about them. The tall lady's always wearing a veil over her face and scarves and all, I bet she's someone really famous!"
"But sir!" Makoto regained her focus. She accosted Bolin in a polite way, trying not to loom. "I apologize for our distraction. Welcome to Kuwa's Fine Silks and Kimonos, and how can we be of service?"
"I'm here to pick up an order, placed two weeks ago," Bolin said.
"Very good." Makoto gave a little nod to Minako, who pulled out the ledger. "And what is your name, sir?"
"Oh, the order isn't mine," Bolin corrected, "I mean, that is to say, I am here on behalf of the client who did place the order. I'm just picking it up." Bolin hurriedly patted around his coat, and from an inner pocket on his vest he drew a folded slip of paper. "This is the receipt, with the—you see—authorizing me—and I have my ID handy." He produced his United Republic passport and laid it on the counter.
The assistants peered at the receipt. There was the letterhead of the Kuwa's store in Republic City, and the signature of the store's manager—Minako recognized the details of the order—and the signature of the client herself—
"It can't be," Makoto breathed. Beside her, Minako began to jitter one foot. Her hair ribbons began to wiggle.
"I can neither confirm nor deny that this has anything to do with the fascinating women of mystery who've appeared on Kyoshi Island in the past week," Bolin added, holding his hands up. "I will not confirm nor deny, so it'd be better for everyone to just snuff all speculation. This is a perfectly ordinary pickup for a perfectly ordinary client."
Makoto reeled backwards as if dizzy. She set a fluttering hand to her bosom. "I—I must get Ms. Murasaki," she said dazedly, and hurried out to the storeroom.
As for Minako, stars were appearing in her eyes. "All this time—my wildest daydreams come true—Avatar Korra and Asami Sato, here, in Kyoshi Island—!"
"Please don't put any stock in your daydreams," Bolin urged her, but he had a queasy feeling that control of the situation was slipping away from him. "I could be representing any clients—"
"But you're not, I recognize you from the newspapers, you're Bolin, ohmigosh can you introduce me to Mako?"
"I've never heard of the guy! Who's Mako? I confirm and deny everything —nothing!" he spluttered as Ms. Murasaki came into the room.
The manager of the store was a short woman, but oh boy, she had a commanding presence. She nodded to Bolin, then inspected the receipt, and said to him, "We're very glad to have your custom, and the order is ready. And may I remind you—" this was directed with an eye at Minako, who was now practically floating with excitement, "Kuwa's Fine Silks has built our reputation on tradition, on the enduring quality of our products, and on our discretion."
"Discretion, yes, yes, thank you," Bolin said. He relaxed a fraction. "Please, the last thing that we all want is publicity—tourists, gawkers, paparazzi swarming the place—when the whole thing's written up in the Republic Gazette, Kuwa's will get a big shout-out as the source of Korra's bridal kimono, but until then—"
"Got it, got it, mum's the word," Minako nodded, miming zipping her mouth shut.
At the same time, Makoto asked, "Just the Avatar? Isn't Asami Sato going to wear a kimono, too?"
"Oh, yes," Bolin said. A huge grin spread over his face. "But that's different. She's wearing her mother's wedding kimono."
Makoto, burly, tall, brusque Makoto nearly dissolved into tears when she heard this. Between sniffles, the onlookers could interpret a wail of "it's so romantic!" Not to be outdone, Minako tried her best to swoon, but her healthy lungs wouldn't cooperate. Murasaki told both of her assistants to take a few minutes outside to compose themselves, and then she directed Bolin to meet her in the showroom. The Avatar's kimono, she said, was ready.
Senna pressed her lips as she put the white robe around Korra's shoulders. "Wearing white always makes me feel so anxious," she admitted. "Nothing to do but worry about getting dirty. I'd just as soon go without."
"The white is supposed to symbolize purity, I think," Korra said, looking down at her sleeves. "Maybe it helps my mind get in the right mood."
"I'm glad that you'll be wearing blue for the ceremony itself. Blue is the only real color for a bride," added Senna, tugging out the hem of the robe so that it lay flat and even all around Korra's hips.
It was early afternoon. Korra was going to undergo a ritual of purification, following the customs peculiar to Kyoshi Island, and her mother, Senna, was providing emotional support.
"Asami will be wearing pink. I'm just warning you now, so you don't flip out later," Korra said to her mother. Senna smiled.
"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just being a little provincial. You decided that on an Island wedding, because this is where Katara can meet you. But will it feel real enough? To you two, I mean."
Korra rolled her shoulders. "Maybe in a year we'll have a Water Tribe ceremony… then after another year, we'll have an Air Nation handfasting… then a Fire Dance a year after that… I'd marry Asami over and over again, all over the world, and then start again here!"
Senna laughed and hugged her daughter in delight.
A few minutes later, Korra stood in front of the shrine's priest. They were in a cobblestoned courtyard, before a well. The priest prayed for focus and the blessing of the spirits, as he had done for hundreds of brides (but helping the Avatar, now that was a feather in his cap, and no mistake!).
Korra listened. The priest drew up some water with a ladle. Korra held out her hands, and the priest anointed them with the cold, cold water.
Korra closed her eyes and bowed, enough that the priest could pour water over her forehead and eyes. As she did, she tried to bring calm into her heart. To think of purity.
All over the world, people had different ideas of purity, different notions of tarnish, vice, or sin. Korra wasn't about to apply every method to her soul—that would take all month and then she'd be left with the fortitude of a damp towel. Instead, she brought her focus to the silence of the air, the goosebumps on her skin, the solemnity of the day.
Korra thought about her imperfections. Anger, impatience, stubbornness, selfishness. Memories surfaced, all centered around Asami. When had her imperfections gotten the better of Korra? When had these vices kept her from loving Asami as fully as she could?
As the priest's prayer reached its final part, Korra turned her mind to the future she and Asami would build together. What would Korra bring to this marriage? She could bring passion, and strength. Any tidbit of wisdom or talent for introspection, she would dedicate to Asami, so that when they did fight, they would mend and forgive. Korra would give all the love that she could, her very best self, the rest of her life.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away as the priest finished.
When the ceremony was concluded, Korra bowed to the priest and thanked him again. She turned back to her mother and was surprised to see—
"Mom! You're tearbending!"
Senna laughed to hear that, but it was a wobbly sort of laugh. She wiped tears from her eyes, and Korra caught her in a bear hug.
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm just overwhelmed. So many feelings… The day we realized you were the Avatar, it rather meant that you belonged more to the world than to us. I cherished every day I could—but I feel I've hardly had time to really be your mother, to be there for you every day…"
"Mom, you were there, you're the best mother. I couldn't do this if you weren't here…"
"You could, and that's fine, too, that's as it should be. I'm just…" She sniffled.
"Mom, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just bringing Asami to be in our family."
"I know, dear heart. I'm…" Senna wiped a tear from Korra's cheek, and smiled into her daughter's eyes. "I'm so glad I can be here for you, with you, today."
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too. Now, let's see if Bolin's gotten the kimono yet."