Kishi: Ah, back to work. And I gotta move fast if I'm going to get this out before the summer officially starts!

---

Kara-No

Chapter 13

The Wind Blows

---

Again with the bells. Another day of smokey skies and falling earth. Another day of screams of pain and awful, awful silence. Haru had heard once that the bells had tolled solely for celebration, for holidays and calls to prayer. It must have been before his time. Way before his time; he couldn't recall a time when the bells of Be Cing Xe had tolled for anything but war.

He stepped forward, lashing with an uppercut. The earth erupted upwards, crashing into the falling flaming boulder. He took another powerful step and leapt with a flying kick. The boulder shot back up into the sky.

There was a crashing sound off to his left, then another. Wow, they're throwing everything at us now, aren't they? He saw the next one coming down and dashed after it over the shattered ground. He arrived at nearly the same time as the boulder, and only had time to release his qi in a punch. The boulder collapsed to dust and fell around him.

Haru coughed as the dust matted his hair and stuck to his clothing. They'd been going at it nonstop for an hour now, and he could feel the fatigue mounting. His green gi jacket was ripped in places, and his face was streaming with sweat. He dashed a hand across his eyes as the dust settled.

Then he heard a strange noise off in the distance. It sounded like an explosion - and then rain? But there weren't enough clouds in the sky for that. And then his attention was taken by a new problem - crashes against the wall. Haru looked up to see the soldiers sinking down to their knees, working to stay stable. He ran toward the wall, then leapt and slid to a stop. He could hear the earth cracking and crackling outside. Good. That should keep any soldiers away from here anyway.

Again, that peculiar boom, and the sound of rain. "Is it raining up there!" he called up to the guards.

"No!" one called back. "The Fire Nation seems to be firing some kind of new weapon or something. But we don't know what it is!"

"Right! What about out there? Are there any soldiers coming?"

"No, not ye-look out!"

Haru, without even thinking, fell backwards and let the ground wrap around him as he travelled. Let's see, there should be a house right nearby. I'll come back in there. He willed himself back up, and rose from the ground inside one of the ruined houses that was still fortunate enough to still have a roof. He walked over to a window and stared out, trying to find where the boulder had landed, see if the wall still stood-

and he stopped and stared.

Fragments of metal jutted out of the ground. They glowed a fiery red. Even though boulders were falling all around him, he couldn't hear a thing, for the sight of the bodies overwhelmed him. Soldiers. Fathers. Mothers. Children. None had been spared - armored bodies fallen to the front, soft bodies speared to the rear.

Haru leaned on the wall, his eyes empty and unseeing. Gods... they don't care... they don't care who they kill... monsters... every single one... EVERY SINGLE ONE! Haru's breathing started to increase, and his hands clenched, cracking the stone sill in his hands. Somebody was shouting somewhere - was it him? Was it someone else in as much pain as he? He didn't know, but he knew that he just wanted it to stop, just wanted it to end.

He dashed out into the clearing and sunk into a low horse stance. Then, with his hands up, he pulled his left hand back to chamber, and pushed the right one out in One-Finger Zen. He could feel his muscles straining, could feel the utter hugeness of the earth he was lifting, but it was so distant because he couldn't drive the screaming from his mind and he just wanted it to stop, stop, STOP! He lifted his hands above his head and felt the earth shifting to his command. And then, with every fiber straining, he threw.

The piece of rock he threw would have been better called a small mountain than anything else. It soared over the wall with a fatal grace, and now the shouts were coming from the other side. He felt it crash back to the ground, and now the screams were coming from the other side as it rolled through. Haru collapsed forward, to hands and knees panting. His throat was raw, and his eyes stung, sweat and tears mixing and breeding with reckless abandon.

At least all was quiet again.

---

Zuko stared at the carnage left by that huge rock earlier. Catapults lay in shattered ruin, men crushed and deformed in their armor. Screams and cries of pain echoed over the camp - a testament to the suffering inflicted.

"The plan must have been the same as Zhao's," he mused softly. "Soften them up, then use the Bursting Stars. But the fortifications here are harder to break than back up north. She should have waited longer, kept up with the boulders more."

"The real problem, it seems," said Reiko in her own quiet voice, "is those walls. If they try to knock it down, the Benders on their side just assimilate it into the structure itself. If the boulders land inside, then the Benders just toss them back."

"Small wonder my Uncle had so much difficulty here," said Zuko. "Everything is against us here. Even our ammunition turns around to face us."

They continued to watch as the bodies were carried out on stretchers. Sometimes they spoke, reassuring someone that they were still alive - themselves or the doctors? Who knew?

"But I don't understand something," said Zuko. "Qiao's as cold and calculating as any general should be. Why would she make such a mistake?"

"Nobody is aware of a mistake until after the fact, my Prince," Reiko murmured. "She must have calculated that the people would be rendered cowards by her attack, and made a gamble on it."

"Even if she knew the risk of reprisal?"

"Yes."

"But why then?"

"Because she cares about her men," she said.

Zuko looked at her critically. "You're joking."

"Think about it," she said. "She has never once committed herself to an attack on the walls. She always struggles to break them down from a distance, keeping her casualties to a minimum. But the siege has been dragging on for far longer than it should have. She has to shed blood in those walls, as much as possible, to break them. Once their will to fight is gone, the siege will have accomplished its purpose, and they'll be able to take the city and end this foolishness."

"So she would sacrifice all others for the the good of those she's under," he said thoughtfully. "She's not much better than Zhao, then, is she?"

"Perhaps," said Reiko. "Then again, if she attacked with Zhao's reasoning, she would have committed her troops to an assault already. The siege would be over, but there would a loss of life on both sides too great to call it a victory. It would be hollow, meaningless."

"True," said Zuko. He shook his head. "I don't get this lady at all." Reiko said nothing at all, but followed him on their way back to their tent. Inside, they found Airoh staring at the grounds of tea in his cup. The afternoon sun provided a goodly amount of light through the canvas, and the entrance was wide open to permit the breeze.

"Ah, nephew!" said Airoh. "Did you find out what all that commotion was about?"

"One of the Earth Benders inside the city decided we deserved a taste of our own medicine," Zuko replied. "So whoever it was just threw a huge boulder at us. It's made a real mess of things."

"Yes," said Airoh, his gaze growing distant. "I remember that happening when I laid siege to this place. These are a proud people. They do not bend easily."

Zuko sank to the ground easily enough, but his fists were clenched. "This is no good. Every passing day the Avatar is getting stronger, people are dying, and all I can do is sit in this tent! We have to end this!"

"I suppose you have a plan for it?"

"It's simple," said Zuko. "All we have to do is bring those walls down. If we could get our army inside, I know the city will fall!"

"Our army?" asked Airoh, pouring himself another cup from the rather plain tea set at his side. "We have one? Where?"

"What do you--" then Zuko growled. Of course. It was Lady Qiao's army, not his.

"Still, you have found the crux of our problem," said Airoh with a nod. "We have to get around those walls somehow. Conventional means won't work, and I daresay that the Lady will not sacrifice her troops so readily in an assault."

"Then sacrifice me instead," came a soft voice. Zuko turned to find Reiko staring at the both of them intently. "My Prince, you know I can get through that wall."

"I don't want a martyr to my name," said Zuko. "You're not going in there alone. You need to have some kind of help."

"That won't be a problem," she said. "I will destroy the wall, then, and let the Fire Army in."

Airoh stared. "You realize the task, my dear?" he asked. "That wall is high and thick. And every day, it gets stronger. You would have to knock down all of that, and then keep the enemy army from storming out to meet you."

"They are all made of the same things," she replied with a shrug. "They will all break the same." She turned to face Prince Zuko and pressed her face to the ground. "I beg of you, my Prince. Allow me this task."

Zuko frowned in thought as he stared at her.

---

The training room that Sokka and Yuki were sparring in seemed to be made for weapons work. The walls held racks of swords and dao, staves and sweepers, hammers and even a few monk's spades. The walls were plain dusty brown otherwise, as was the floor. If students weren't practicing or sparring with weapons, they were sitting or standing at the walls. The air of the place seemed a bit more subdued than it should have been, but the Bursting Stars had driven some of the fight from the would-be defenders.

Sokka and Yuki weren't strangers to the horrors of this weapon, so they were able to drive it from their minds and focus on the moment. Both of them held wooden kukri in their hands, and the clack of the impacts was fast and fierce.

"I must say," Yuki drawled, slashing at Sokka's throat. The slash was stopped, and a hand had grabbed her wrist suddenly. Yuki neatly twisted out of the grasp. "Yes," she said, "you have improved."

Sokka didn't say a word, and the calm expression didn't leave his face. Yuki had proven to be a cunning and devious opponent. She was bad enough with the blade in her hand, fast and focused, ever able to find a place where he wasn't watching. But even when he'd gotten to the point where his guard was passable, she'd begin trying to compliment him. He'd taken the bait at first, and he'd paid for it many, many times. Any compliment was more or less the kiss of death, for he would stop to acknowledge - and she wouldn't. It always ended with the kukri at his throat or chest, and a satisfied smirk on her face.

Uh-uh. Not this time.

Now he pressed his attack. He came down with an overhead strike. She caught his blade and parried off to the side. He came back with a horizontal slash. She stepped away from it without doing anything. Before she could counter, though, he came back again from the right. This time, she stepped in with her block, throwing his blade back. He used the momentum to swing a fist into her middle. An outpouring of breath was his reward.

He knew better than to ask if she was all right. She'd probably kill him for that.

Still, he'd sent her stumbling, and he pressed his advantage. He began to hack at her, and though she blocked each strike, she still continued backwards. He locked blades with her and pushed. They both slammed into the wall.

Yuki didn't move, keeping her eyes on him. Have I won? he asked. There they were, both sweating and panting. More than a few hairs were out of place on her head, and Sokka couldn't help but notice suddenly how very deep her eyes were. The heaving of her chest wasn't unpleasant either.

"Well done," she said, a very small smile appearing on her face. "Very well done. It seems you've beaten me."

What? "What? But how can that be?"

"Who knows?" she asked. "But you've worked hard, and it seems to have paid off."

"I guess so," he said, but he still wouldn't let her go. Not yet. Something had to be wrong here-

and she kissed him. No warning, no build-up, just a sudden warm pressure on his lips. He was stunned. What was this? What was the reason?

Then the impact of a knee to his groin, and it all made sense.

He crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. Then he felt a hand yank back on his ponytail, and the wooden blade pressed to his throat.

"By the way," she said in that low voice of hers, "appearances are deceiving. You haven't won anything until you have me dead. Clear?"

Sokka groaned in response. "Good!" she said. "Now. Stand up, shake it off, and let's go again."

---

"I've been thinking about what you said, Master."

"Aang, you make me feel old that way. I'm 89 years young, thank you very much!"

Aang grinned sheepishly. "Right! I'm sorry! I've got less hair than you do, so you're probably younger than me!"

Jigen laughed. They were sitting again in the rock garden, cross-legged and on opposing stones. The order of the rocks didn't seem to have any real significance, but who could tell? Maybe it was a deep philosophical matter or a huge joke. The difference in such things was often pretty small.

"So have you found the answer?"

"I think I have," Aang said. "You asked me if the truth was what I wanted to hear, or if I wanted to hear the truth. Right?"

"Right."

"The answer's easy," Aang grinned. "But it took me a few days to figure out. But here it goes - truth is only and ever truth. If it's ever anything else, it can't be truth."

"Go on."

"If truth was only what I wanted to hear, then I would be attempting to define my reality on my own terms. But that would mean that when the real truth came along, I could be denying it - unless I really want to see the true nature of things."

"But is that necessarily a good thing?"

"Whether it's good or bad doesn't really matter," he replied. "Because it's all in how you take it. It all depends on me, and I have to accept it no matter what it is. How I react to it is up to me."

Jigen looked at Aang for so long that Aang knew he'd messed up somewhere. Then the old man grinned. "Good. Very good. That's the answer I've been waiting for."

Aang sighed in relief. "Thanks."

"Do you know why I asked you that question?" asked Jigen. Aang shook his head. "I asked it because I wanted you to understand something. A person lives his life through a looking glass. Everything that happens to him happens, but the meaning of it is something that he decides for himself. When I asked you, your glass was clouded. If I had told you what I will tell you now, you would not have seen truth. You would have seen either support of what you long for, or a rebuke. You would not have been able to truly determine the meaning of it for yourself."

"I think I get it," said Aang. "In other words, you asked me the question to clear my head. That way, I will truly believe in the truth of what you say, and I can make an honest choice from there."

"Exactly," nodded Jigen. "It's a shame you didn't come by sooner. We could have made a real philosopher out of you."

"I guess that's just how it worked out this time," he said. "But I'm ready."

"All right then. You want to know if you can truly pursue a relationship with Katara, yes? Without loving her above any other thing?"

"Yes. Please, I need the answer!"

"You have only to look to the wind," replied Jigen. "I'm aware of the old Nomad teachings, how the wind never attaches, remains in constant flow and cannot be contained. This is true. But the wind fills the sails of a boat and propels it to its destination. The wind cools a fevered brow and offers comfort. The wind supports the wings of a bird and carries it where it wants to go. Would you agree that this is all true as well?"

"Yeah," said Aang, brow furrowed. "I can see what you're saying..."

"Oh please," snorted Jigen. "You're totally confused. You're realizing that though the wind doesn't attach, it does all sorts of things that denote an attachment. You have no idea how this can be."

"Yeah. Gosh, this is weird to wrap my mind around."

"Then ask yourself this - is the wind diminished for its attachment?"

"No."

"It's still the wind, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"It still moves and flows without being contained, doesn't it? Which means..."

"That it's really the wind's choice," said Aang. "The wind can do all that stuff that you just said - but it can do all the other things it does just as easily."

"Exactly."

"In other words," said Aang, putting his head in his hands, "it's really all up to me in the end."

"I'm afraid so," said Jigen. "Not what you were hoping for, I know. But it's really your choice to make."

Aang nodded. "Thanks."

---

Qiao's fingers tapped idly in cadence as she sat. The battle plans for the following morning had been set, damages and casualties had been figured from the day's reprisal, and now she was left to stew and wait for the next of her duties to begin - her appointment with the Prince.

Such a waste of time, she seethed beneath the icy calm of her features. If I didn't have this to worry about, I could have gone over more detailed plans. I could do better things for my men, save them some pain, save others their suffering - and this damnable Princeling dares make me wait! The boy was to blame for so much - for the shattering of the 41st, for the delays and complications of the moment that encumbered her every plan. He brought death and destruction with him wherever he went.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her. Qiao knew that she was a soldier. Death and suffering were her lot, and she welcomed them as the challenges of her profession. She knew all too well the saying: "To make a bonfire, it requires many logs." She didn't mind burning logs, not as long as the she was making a greater bonfire. Zuko, however, had made a dry and sunny day into a damp and rainy one.

It was just... inefficient. And inefficiency on the battlefield made things worse in the long run.

The tent flap shifted aside to reveal a guard. "The Prince is here for his appointment," he said. Qiao stood, nodded to the Prince as he entered, and bowed to Airoh as he entered.

"I am honored that you have chosen this time to spend with me," she said. And truly, it was an honor. Airoh was the Dragon of the West, after all. She straightened in time to see the Prince's maidservant enter as the tentflap closed. Unusual, thought Qiao, but not unheard of. But why should he bring her when there are plenty of servants here as it is?

"The honor is mine, that you have received me," answered Zuko with a bow. It was stiff, as if a pair of hands had to bend him at the waist, but a bow was a bow nonetheless. All three of them walked over to the table and sat, and servants filed in with trays for tea.

The silence stretched until it bordered on awkward. Zuko seemed very tense, in Qiao's estimation - posture rigid, eyes never wavering from her, not even for a second. Very odd. Flattering, in its own way, but very odd.

Finally, Airoh coughed. "If I may say so," he began, "you conduct a very good siege."

"I am gladdened to hear so," she replied. "It seems, though, that our friends on the other side of the wall have had a great teacher." No, she didn't blame Airoh for his failure, but it had allowed the enemy some time to gather insights on siege warfare.

"Do tell," said the old man sedately.

"They're adaptive," she said, taking hold of her tea. "Anything we throw at them is either thrown back at us or taken in to build the walls higher. We rush forward, but the ground itself rejects us. We can stop some supplies from entering the city, but then we find the tunnels, and for every one we shut another two open. They seem well-readied for the conventions of a siege."

"Indeed," said Airoh, stroking his beard. "Unfortunately, the conventions of it are all you have."

"I'm afraid so," said Qiao with a shrug. "Still, I've learned not to expect miracles. They will break before I do."

"But at what cost?" asked Zuko. "Every day, people are dying in this siege. This is pointless. It has to be ended."

"I have my orders, Prince," she replied, her voice dropping a few degrees. "I must follow them, no matter what the cost. Unless you are in some position to change them?"

"I cannot," said Zuko, and she could tell the subtle barb stung him awfully. "However," he continued, "I can understand what it is to labor under a heavy burden. You know my task."

"I do."

"You know the Avatar is in the city."

"I do."

"Yet you will not let me seek him."

"Your task is not my concern," she said coolly. "I have laws of my own to follow as well. The laws state that you are to be kept out of harm's way, and allowing you to go after him is in contradiction to my orders."

"Then allow me to show you something," said Zuko. He nodded to his maidservant. She took her fingers into the Knife position and merely tapped the table around which they sat. Immediately the table collapsed, split straight down the middle.

Qiao could not hide her amazement. "What sorcery is this?"

"Not sorcery," replied the maidservant. "A different Bending Art, nothing more. However, this one is without any counter ability. I can destroy any obstacle the enemy creates."

"What I am proposing, here," said Zuko, "is an opportunity for both of us to finish our tasks. If you allow me to be at the forefront of your army, I will lend her services to you to break through the walls."

"I see," said the Lady. "In this way, we both meet our goals." Zuko nodded. "And what is to keep me from taking from you here and now?" She watched Zuko stiffen even further. "A well-conceived plan," she said, "but I will not take this bait." She clapped her hands, and the two burly guards entered. "Take this woman," she said.

The maidservant stood, docile in her servant's garb. Zuko started to protest as the guards drew closer, on both sides - and then the maidservant exploded into motion. She flew toward the first guard, sinking rapidly, fist striking the knee. There was an audible crack, and the guard shouted in pain as he fell to the ground. The second guard thrust his spear at her. The maidservant flowed to the inside, and thrust a Serpent Hand to the the guard's throat. The guard stumbled, clutching his throat, then collapsing backward.

With no hesitance, the maidservant grabbed the spear before it even hit the ground, spun, and had it at the Lady's throat.

Qiao's face was schooled to stillness, but inside she felt exhilirated. Amazing, she thought. Is this feeling... is this truly fear?

"I am not to be bartered," the maidservant said, serene and calm as a still pond. "I am Zuko's servant, and his alone. Only he can command me. I will only help you if you help him."

Qiao stared at the haft of the spear and at the calm face of the servant, taking in the shocked, gaping expressions of her company.

"Let me call my officers in," she said, finally. "We must plan this."

---

Down in the courtyard, ice-blue eyes watched Haru going through his exercises. It seemed to be more conditioning work - low stances, holding the stones as high as he could, as long as he could. The eyes watched him, his eyes closed in concentration, struggling to keep the strain from showing.

All in all, Katara wasn't sure what to make of things right now. The soldiers had found him sitting silently near a gorge that hadn't been there before. He hadn't spoken two words to anybody since his return, barely acknowledging her and going straight to training.

And now here he was, distant in more ways than one. Every limb was shaking with exertion, and Katara hoped that he would show some sense and break out of the stance before he overworked and collapsed--

Haru dropped at the same time as the stones. His knees buckled, his limbs flailed, barely catching him before he hit the ground.

Katara sighed. "Something the matter?" came a familiar voice. She turned around, and there stood Aang, looking tired as always.

"It's Haru," she said, leaning again on the earthen railing. She heard Aang lean next to her as she continued: "Something's wrong with him. They found him out near the western wall, with a huge hole in the earth and lots of dead. He hasn't hardly spoken a word since they brought him back. He just buries himself in his practice."

"It must have been horrible," said Aang, watching as Haru sat and fought for his breath.

"The soldiers who brought him back were talking about finding a lot of strange debris at that part of the wall."

Aang's eyes widened. "No way. It couldn't be that same thing from before, could it?"

"Maybe," said Katara. "I hope not, though. Once was enough."

They continued watching as Haru wearily climbed to his feet and stumbled off into the temple mount.

"I guess you must really care about him."

"Of course I do. He's a dear friend. He's humble and kind and caring, and he's a good person at heart. He deserves better than this," Katara replied. "Honestly, he's on call at any time, be it day or night. He goes out, pushes himself to the utmost, and then comes back to eat and work some more." She sighed. "He really worries me sometimes. It can't be good for him to work like that."

"I see." She turned to see that Aang looked a little crestfallen, but there was still a look of determination on his face.

"What about you, Aang? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said, summoning a grin from far away. "Just tired. We're all tired."

Katara nodded, looking out over the war-torn city. Smoke billowed from tiled roofs. Rubble littered the streets. There were no children at play out there, and the city was shrouded in a dreadful stillness. Yet even in this moment, there was still something about this place - something firm, committed, unshakeable. The fire would be burnt out before this city budged an inch.

"Katara?"

"Yes?"

"I... look, I've been thinking, and..."

"And?"

"And... well." His eyes searched the stone for the words he would say. He seemed to find them, bringing his eyes to meet hers. "You came with me to find a Water Bending master. We found one. And... things are just going to keep getting worse until the war is over. And you have Haru here too and... there's just..." He sighed, and spoke so softly she wasn't sure she heard him: "There's just no reason for you to keep going with me."

What? "Aang, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think it would be best if you stayed here, with Haru."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm coming with you."

"No." The uncertainty of his voice was fading. "You mean too much to me. You're one of my best friends. Katara, if something happened to you, I don't know what I'd do or think or say. You're better off here, where it's safe."

What was this? She'd proven herself as able a combatant as he on several occassions. They'd been in dangerous situations before this, even, and he'd never said a word. Where was this coming from?

"You mean a lot to me too," she said, frowning at him. "Do you think I could just sit here, day after day, just listening to the news about you?"

"But you and Haru," he persisted, color rising in his cheeks. "You just seem so concerned about him, and I know he's glad to see you too..."

What did Haru have to do with this? They were just friends, for Heaven's sake! There wasn't anything going on! The only reason he could possibly think that would be-

Oh.

No. No way. He was just a kid!

No he isn't, a voice answered in her mind, and she looked at him. Aang was still light and wiry, but the Earth-style training had solidified him, his movements containing a power not present before. His eyes still held a glint of childish glee, but something else was trying to slip in there too - a grief, or a revelation, something adding age to his depths. His clothes - once clean and well-kept - were frayed, matted with dust and sweat. He didn't stand before her here as a gallant child - he stood before her as a young man.

That still didn't give him the right to cast her aside. She wanted to help him. Didn't he realize that he was valuable to her too?

She turned back to the city, the wind pulling at her blue tunic. "Aang," she said slowly, "Do you remember what you told me that night, before we reached the North Pole?"

"Yeah."

"Have you stopped believing in me?"

"What? Of course not!"

"Then what's the real reason you want me to stay here?" She turned to look at him, and now he seemed uncertain. "You can tell me."

"I just... just wanted you to be happy," he murmured softly. "You've traveled with us for so long, worked so hard. You don't hardly ever complain about it or anything. And when I saw you with Haru, you seemed so happy about seeing him. If you come with us, you might not ever see him again. I just didn't think it was fair to you."

"Aang," said Katara, "I said I believed in you, and I still do. I know you can do this, and that you don't need me to do it. But you don't have to sacrifice me to do it. You don't have to face the Fire Nation alone."

"Katara..."

"Enough of this," she said. She smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going with you when the time comes, and that's that. Got it?"

He stared at her arm, followed it to her face, and the grin he gave was golden. "Thank you."

---

Day, as it always did, faded to the night, and the moon offered soothing light. Peering down upon the ruins from her rooftop perch, Yuki sighed. This is such a waste! she thought. We have to take the fight to this enemy! This stalemate's only wasting lives. It has to end.

Yeah, just like last time, remember? She shook her head. There had to be a way to break this, but the Fire Nation had numbers and weapons and lots and lots of time. Much as she wanted to fight directly, she knew they were holding all the cards.

She sighed, feeling the familiar itching beneath her bandages. Oh well. It was time to air-out anyway.

She began to unwrap the bandages, already feeling the relief of the cool night air. She continued to unwrap, until her hand began to appear. Unlike her fingers and face, the skin bore no resemblance to cinammon, but was discolored and scarred. As she continued to unwrap, revealing more of the same covering her arm, she ignored the memories of fire and debris and suffocating and pain and

"Yuki?"

Dammit. She quickly hid her arm in the shadows of her tunic and turned to the source of the voice. Sokka had steppped hesitantly on to the roof and was looking at her.

"Can I help you with something?" she growled.

"What? Uh, no, that's fine. I just wanted to show you something."

"Well? What then?"

"It's just... well," he said, pulling out a pair of sheathes. Yuki recognized the symbols as Tribal - the sea engraved along one side, with the moon shining down in the center.

That was right. He'd proven worthy of steel today. Holding one's own against her was no easy task. But he'd grown so very much in their time together, holding the weapons with such confidence that it had bred competence. The time had come.

Still, damned if she was going to let him see what she truly looked like. Keeping as much as she could to her own shadow, she smiled at him. "They look very nice. You did well today. You deserve the real thing."

"I guess," he said, grinning broadly. "I am, after all, the best warrior in the Southern Water Tribe."

"The only one too, as I recall."

That deflated him a little. "Still, that's not the main reason I came here. I just wanted to say thanks."

She blinked. "What for?"

"If it weren't for you, I never could have learned how to use these," he said. "So, thank you, Sifu."

Yuki offered as much of a bow as she could. "You're a good student," she said. "You work hard and work not to repeat your mistakes. Any other teacher would kill for a student like you. It's been an honor."

"Thanks," he beamed. Then he looked at her. "Say, are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"It looks like you're cradling your arm or something. Are you injured?"

Oh, in so many, many ways... "I'm fine. But if you don't mind, I came up here to be alone?"

"Oh, uh, right. Yeah. Um, anyways. Thanks again!" Sokka retreated down the ladder and disappeared.

She knew she'd been rude, too abrupt. He hadn't deserved that at all. He'd worked so hard, and all he wanted to do was celebrate it. As his teacher, she should have taken the time to sit down and talk with him, let him celebrate and take joy with him. But he can't know, she thought. He can't know about what I really am. I have to at least look like I'm still whole, not this ugly, misshapen... thing. She shook her head. He was better off not knowing.

---

Kishi: Ai-yaaa. I got too much on my mind to even think of omake. This is what happens when the 13-hour/day schedule carries on for months and months and you write in-between, you know?

Avatar: the Last Airbender is (c) to