The main telegraph office of Kyoshi Island sat just off of Downtown Plaza, tucked snugly between an okonomiyaki stand and a post office, with a tea shop across the street. Katara and Ikki walked down the street, like any other grandmother and granddaughter team, and as Ikki chatted and Katara interrupted and they both laughed, they ducked into the telegraph office.

There were five messages waiting, which Ikki requested on behalf of Korra.

The first message was from Lord Zuko, who apologized—he couldn't make it to Kyoshi on short notice, but he sent his best wishes to the happy brides, as well as the wishes of his family. Prince Wu had prior engagements, but he'd treat the girls to a celebration when they were all on the same coast again. Suyin sent a similar message, and said that she had sent presents to their home in Republic City. Varrick and Zhu Li promised that they would make it, with their apprentices in tow.

Last was a telegram from Eastern Swamp Outpost. It read just, "Thanks for the notice."

"Thanks for the notice?" Ikki repeated. "That's blunt, and no mistake."

Katara peered at the address. "It certainly is… who's even out there at Eastern Foggy Swamp?"

Ikki's eyebrows lifted. In a high, excited voice, she said, "Wait, that's where we found—"

She clamped up when Katara gestured for silence. In an equally excited whisper, Ikki said into her grandmother's ear, "That's where we met Toph. Where she was looking for enlightenment, remember, when Korra disappeared?"

She pulled back, and saw a wry smile spread over Katara's face. "Is that so?"

"But all she said was thanks for the notice. Does that mean she'll be here, or no? I guess it is a long way to travel by water," Ikki said, fretting.

"Blunt and unhelpful." Katara nodded. "It certainly sounds like her. Let's get to the bakery."

Ikki set her arm through Katara's. "When was the last time you saw Toph?"

"I last saw her twenty years ago. But I've gotten letters from her."

"Letters? How? She's blind!"

"Ikki, there are such people as professional letter-writers."

"… Oh."

"I didn't get a lot of letters, but I know she thinks of me. That's all I need—to know she's alive and hasn't forgotten me."

Ikki shook her head as the sun came out. "I can't imagine going that long without talking to one of my friends."

"Of course not. You haven't even been alive that long."

"If a friend of mine doesn't send a message after twenty days, I start to worry that they secretly hate me."

"Oh, Ikki, dear."

"I bet you never had to worry about that…"

"I had the opposite problem. There were times when I was traveling with Toph, or with Zuko, especially Sokka and Aang—we'd been in such close quarters that we were all sick of each other."

"No."

"Yes! We would get on each other's nerves and bicker… the arguments I had with Sokka over papaya, I mean, really… and then I would worry, do they keep me around because I'm useful, or do they really like me, for me? You're in fine company, Ikki. A little worrying is very normal."

Ikki hugged Katara's arm and shoulder. "Just a little, though, right? Because Asami has been so worried about the cake, and I think she's worrying too much, and…"

Ikki's chatter faded as the two entered the Sunbird Bakery, to pick up the wedding cake and pastries.

It was an early midwinter sunset. Kya and Senna took Korra by the shoulders, and said it was time to get her all ready. Pema already had an arm hooked around Asami's waist. Korra made a laughing protest, and Asami promised to see her soon, and they kissed each other quickly before their respective retinues led them away.

Asami's wedding kimono was already hung up carefully in Pema's room. The outer robe was a wonder in silk. It was covered with cherry blossoms, rendered with such care that with every gesture, the embroidery seemed to quicken with life. A slightly richer color at the hem suggested depth, and gold thread on the shoulders gave the illusion of sunlight. There was all the allure and promise of spring, sitting quiet in the heart of winter.

"I've dreamed about wearing this," said Asami.

But she wasn't looking at the outer robe, brimming with petals. She was touching the inner kimono. This was of good make, yes, but plain. Unimaginative. The main pattern was a fletching of grey and lighter grey. It had been manufactured in a workshop thirty years ago, for no special purpose. Asami's eyes filled with tears.

"That's the one your mother wore, isn't it?" Pema asked. She put her hands on Asami's shoulders.

Asami nodded. She wiped tears away with the heel of her hand. "Have I told you about my parents' wedding?"

"Yes, but I'd love to hear it again."

Asami smiled at her. "They had been engaged for a year when the Hong-Fang Crash hit Republic City. Future Industries was hit hard. It looked so bad, in fact, that my father actually took the train to see Mom, without giving her any warning. She was staying in City of Industry then, with her parents. It was eight at night when Dad showed up, unannounced. He told her that he was releasing her from the engagement. If she didn't want to marry a penniless man, he said, he wouldn't tie her down.

"Mom called that a 'fit of lunatic nobility'—of course she loved him, she said, and she wanted to marry him. She was insulted that he thought that she loved money more than him. There was some yelling and laughing and crying, I'm told. But they understood each other pretty well by the end.

"They realized that they just wanted to start the rest of their lives, together. So they'd been planning a big fancy to-do, but they scrapped it. They got married the very next day, at the city hall, right before boarding a train back to Republic City. This kimono happened to be nice enough on short notice, and sturdy enough for travel."

"And your mother kept it," Pema said.

"Well, of course. You can't buy memories like this…" Asami swallowed a lump in her throat, "It's a funny coincidence, that my mom wore a kimono when she got married, and Korra and I are getting married on Kyoshi, where kimono are traditional at a wedding. I'm really glad it worked out this way."

"Kismet, serendipity," Pema offered, as she laid out combs and hairpins. "An unexpected blessing."

"The cherry-petal robe was a gift from Dad for their tenth anniversary," Asami went on. "I remember the party that they had, and Mom and Dad renewed their vows." She took a deep breath. Her hands went to her head. "First, I'll brush out my hair, while you get the cosmetics ready. Do you think those sandals will be alright if there's snow on the ground?"

"As long as you have warm socks," replied Pema. The older woman mirrored Asami's practical mood. To cry a little and tell her parents' love story was a part of Asami's healing, a way to bring Yasuko and Hiroshi into the day. And Pema took into her heart the honor of being Asami's audience. After all, a good definition of 'family,' in Pema's book, was "a group of people who hear one another's stories, and keep them, and tell them again year after year."