Posted December 23, 2015

"The Prayer"

A part of me was hoping someone would wake up and hear, so I wouldn't have to live with this lie anymore. But no one woke up and in the silence that followed, I understood the nature of my new curse: I was going to get away with it. ~ Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

The ring of the rarely-used telephone serves as a warning bell, not to be afraid, but to be alert. For years Tonraq and Senna thought they did not need such a device, but they eventually concluded that it would bring a measure of safety, allowing them to communicate quickly with other people in the tribe in the event of an emergency.

Tonraq answers the phone, but Senna pauses in her work to watch and listen to Tonraq's reaction. "Yes, this is … Oh. … I see. I'm sorry to hear that. … Was anyone hurt?" The words make Senna's insides feel cold. But Tonraq is not visibly frightened or worried, if she is judging his emotions correctly. "This afternoon? … All right. … Thank you, Principal."

The moment he hangs up Senna asks, "What is it?"

"It's not an emergency," Tonraq assures her quickly. "Damasak just got in some trouble at school."

"Oh …" There is some irony in the fact that such news, which would bring distress and disappointment to most parents, brings relief to Senna. "Oh, no," she amends, and Tonraq smiles wryly, sympathizing with her mixed feelings. "What happened?"

"It sounds like he got into a fight with some other kids. The teacher wants to speak with at least one of us. Will you take Hanami home while I stay to talk with them?" A man-to-man talk might be necessary.

"All right."

An hour later, they walk together to the primary school within the city proper. The building is small, with an average of only two teachers and fifty students in each level. Many families, especially in more rural areas, still prefer to teach their children at home. Senna and Tonraq considered this, but Damasak's pleading and Kya's advice led them to enroll their son, and later their daughter, in the public school. The parents and neighbors teach the children how to survive and live well, but the school teaches them how to be connected with the world.

While Senna goes to the courtyard to find Hanami's class, Tonraq goes inside. He finds Damasak sitting on a bench outside the principal's office. "Son?"

He looks up. "Hi Dad," he says tonelessly.

"Are you all right?"

"Sure. Just fine." He tosses his head in the direction of the door. "They're waiting for you. They said I could wait here."

Just then the door opens, and Damasak's teacher steps halfway out. "Tonraq, sir? Please come in." Seeing Tonraq's glance at Damasak, he explains, "We spoke with Damasak already, and he said he'd rather wait while we talk to you."

He follows the teacher into the main office, where the principal is seated behind her desk. "Please have a seat, sir."

"What's this all about?"

"Damasak got into a fight with his classmate, Chibok. It started as an argument, but both of them resorted to physical attacks."

"It may have been partly my fault," the teacher says apologetically. "I should have remembered, and maybe warned Damasak beforehand."

"Remembered what?"

"Every year I teach a unit about different forms of government, and I tack on a few classes about the Avatar. Of course history is full of their deeds, but this section focuses on the position, and the line of Avatars."

There is a pregnant pause. Wishing they were not so embarrassed for his sake, Tonraq presses, "How did Damasak react?"

"He mentioned that his sister was—er, is—an—well, the Avatar. That caused some confusion, and argument, but I called them to order. I think Damasak was embarrassed, but it didn't come up again until afternoon recess. I don't know what was said, only that it had to do with the same argument, and this time Damasak lashed out physically."

Tonraq cannot help thinking that if someone attacked his family's honor, he would rather hope that Damasak would defend it; but, of course, violence on the school playground is not the way.

"Damasak said Chibok started it, but he won't give us any details."

"What are the consequences?"

"The class is going on a field trip next week, to the Avatar Temple. We think Damasak and Chibok should sit this trip out, and write apology letters to each other. Each of them will also receive a demerit on his school record. A pattern or accumulation of demerits could, eventually, result in greater consequences."

"I understand. I'm sure this won't happen again."

Tonraq leaves the office and gestures to his son. "Come on. We need to talk."

Damasak stands and follows him silently. Tonraq waits until they have walked a fair distance away from other passersby before telling him what was decided. "You're banned from the school trip."

"It's just to the temple. I've already been there."

"What exactly did you do?"

"It was just some snowballs, and a water whip."

Tonraq raises his eyebrows, trying not to show his pride. Damasak initially had a difficult time when they taught him that move. "Really? How did your water whip go?"

"Well … first I hit him with it, then I kind of grabbed his wrist with it … he tried to turn it on me. I don't know how, but we got on the ground and were just wrestling when the monitors got the teachers."

Tonraq chooses his words carefully. "I'm proud of your waterbending, but that's wasn't the right time, place, or way to use it. It's the same with any martial art." They pause long enough to cross the icy street. Then he ventures gently, "There's something else I think we should talk about: the argument itself."

At this, Damasak turns sullen once more, turning his face to look the other way as they walk. Tonraq sighs, not sure how to draw him out. "I know it's hard for you and Hanami, to hear about Korra when you've never met her …"

"That's not it, Dad."

"What is it, then?" His son's only answer is a scowl. "Damasak, you can tell me anything."

"No I can't. You'd ground me if I told you everything I think."

The shrewd statement leaves Tonraq somewhat bewildered. He wonders if he would rather not hear what Damasak thinks. Would the truth really hurt him? Or would it just be disrespectful on the boy's part?

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Why'd you leave the Northern Tribe?"

The question catches Tonraq off guard. He cannot think of any connection to that sensitive topic and the one they have at hand. "It's not something I like to remember. But, I suppose you're about old enough to hear it."

"What is it?"

"If I tell you, will you tell me what you and Chibok said to each other?"

"Fine."

"I left the North because … I was banished."

Damasak stops walking. Tonraq turns around to find his son staring at him. "You were banished from the North? Why?"

Tonraq gestures for him to follow, and only then does he explain, his eyes fixed on the sidewalk while Damasak's are fixed on him. "Twenty years ago, I was a general in the Northern Water Tribe, sworn to protect my people. One day invaders came and attacked our home. I drove them out of the city and deep into the frozen tundra. We tracked them deep into an ancient forest. Many believed this forest was the home to spirits, and the barbarians retreated there because they thought we wouldn't attack them on such hallowed grounds. They thought wrong." Tonraq pauses, trying to remember the details and filter the most important ones, and Damasak tries to picture it as he waits for the story to continue. "We captured the barbarians, but in the process, we destroyed the forest. I didn't realize the consequences of what I had done. By destroying the forest, I unknowingly let loose angry spirits. They threatened to destroy everything, the entire city."

Damasak's inquisitive voice breaks his reverie. "How did you stop them?"

"I didn't. Your uncle did. Unalaq knew how to tame the spirits—there's a waterbending technique that calms them down. He was able to guide the spirits back to the forest. But by then, the damage had been done. For being the cause of so much devastation, my father, the chief, banished me from the Northern Water Tribe in shame. That's when I came to the South and started a new life."

Damasak looks thoughtful, still pondering the story. "If Uncle Unalaq could control the spirits, why didn't he stop them before they made such a mess?"

Tonraq's instinctual reaction is to explain it away—There were too many, it happened too quickly—but then realizes his son has a point, one he never stopped to consider. "I … don't know."

"So, Uncle Unalaq became chief because you left?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you don't like each other?" Damasak only recently began to perceive his elders' moods during their family reunions.

"I … yes, that is part of it. He blamed me for not respecting the spirits … and it's hard for me, seeing him be the leader I was supposed to be." But that matter is quite far apart from the one they are supposed to be discussing. "You promised to tell me what was said."

"Does it matter?"

"Damasak."

His son glares at him, and then the full story tumbles out, swift and unsparing as an avalanche. "Chibok said his dad thinks you made up that stuff about Korra being the Avatar and being kidnapped, just to cover up the fact that you lost your own kid. Someone else said their parents remember Korra firebending, so she must've been the Avatar, but Chibok said the people in the Northern Tribe remember what you did, and some of them say you deserved what happened to Korra, and some say you failed all over again."

Tonraq can only stare, stunned almost beyond words. The rumors themselves are not new; he has overheard such talk and even harbored similar thoughts. What shocks him is that a child would repeat such things, and what hurts him is hearing them repeated by his own son.

Damasak's eyes are filled with tears, and anger, and—worst of all—shame. "See why I didn't want to say it?"

"Son—" Tonraq reaches for his shoulder, but Damasak steps away, glaring at him.

"I told him he was wrong, but I didn't even know the whole story. I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"I was protecting you from the shame I brought on the family."

"So, you just tell us all the good stuff about our family that hardly anyone knows about, and leave out all the bad stuff that everyone knows? It's embarrassing!" Damasak looks up at his father with a challenge in his expression. "Is Korra a lie too?"

"What?"

"Was she really the Avatar? Was she even real?"

It is too much. "Of course. Damasak, I may have kept things from you, but I've never lied to you. Do you believe me?"

"Yeah." He believes that his father believes Korra was the Avatar. But he also sees that his father wants that to be the truth, because it would give him something to be proud of after everything he is ashamed of.

When they arrive at the igloo, Hanami is helping Senna sort pieces of cloth for different projects. Her face lights up when she sees them, just like Korra's always did when she was happy. "Hi Daddy and Dammy!"

Senna smiles at Damasak, but looks to Tonraq with concern in her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Damasak kicks off his boots and says brusquely, "Depends who you ask." Then he goes to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Tonraq?"

He shakes his head. "I'll tell you later." They keep no secrets from each other, but he does not want to make her feel the way he feels now, does not want her to know what Damasak thinks and feels about them. "I want to go to the Avatar Temple."

"Can we come?" Hanami pipes up.

"No, sweetie, you stay and help your mother. It's easier if I go alone today."

Each of the nations has at least one temple dedicated to the Avatars. Everyone in Tonraq's family has visited the Southern Water Tribe's temple at least once. It serves a few different functions: a pilgrimage site, a tourist destination, and a memorial. Master Tenzin meditates there when he visits. Katara has said that she likes to go there because she can feel Aang's presence more strongly. No wonder: one of the rooms is filled with Air Nomad decorations and memorabilia, most of which belonged to Avatar Aang during his life. His glider and meditation beads rest on hooks protruding from one wall. On the shelf, a glass case protects a small whistle shaped like a bison. Paintings and photographs show Aang's growth from adolescent to man to elder.

For Katara and her family, every item here has a plethora of memories attached to it. Tonraq envies their collection of physical relics. Korra's kidnapper took everything that belonged to her. Sometimes it is hard to remember what she looked like; Damasak seems to resemble her, and Hanami even more so, but it could be that their past memories of Korra's face have blended with their present impressions of their children.

Tonraq uses spark rocks to light two incense sticks, and places them in a stand before the memorial. He kneels on the floor, but then feels at a loss for what to do. He looks at the portrait of Aang.

"I'm not good at this," he says helplessly. "I don't even know if you can hear me." As far as he can understand, the spirits of the dead have more awareness or information than the living, but they are not omniscient. If various legends and historical accounts are to be believed, the dead have some knowledge of affairs that have to do with them or their descendents. It might make sense for Aang to be able to hear Tonraq, because they both have a connection to Korra.

"Look, Avatar … Aang, if you can communicate with Korra, or help her in any way … please, show her the way home. And let her know that we love her, and we need her."

The dream is more vivid than any Korra has had in a long time. She is not sure whether it counts as a nightmare, though she distinctly remembers experiencing fear in the course of it. Someone was threatening her friends (who, she realizes upon waking, she does not even know) and hurting her body, and she could not move. But all the details—everything that made the events understandable—drain as she wakes up. But one detail sticks with her: a name.

Throughout the day, she forgets about it only to remember it at odd moments. Seeing an old-fashioned rickshaw in the street brings a jolt of recognition: in her dream there was some kind of chase involving a carriage, and she saw it from the pursuer's point of view. It is only after she leaves the library in the evening that she remembers the name, and realizes she could have looked it up at the library. Maybe next time, then.

At the apartment, she finds Noatak in the kitchen, a welcome sight since he has been working odd hours so many recent days and nights. She can never be sure when she will see him around the apartment.

As she looks through the cabinets for condiments, she asks him, "Do you ever get certain words or names stuck in your head, and you can't figure out where you heard them or what they mean?"

He merely glances at her, still mostly focused on his cooking. "I may have experienced that. What word are you thinking of?" He selects an egg from a carton.

"It's actually a name. Yakone."

Noatak cracks the egg far too hard on the bowl's room, and gets goo on his fingers, while half of the shattered shell falls into the bowl along with the yolk. Korra pauses at the cabinet, raising her eyebrows at his uncharacteristic clumsiness. When he turns to face her, she is startled by his pallor. "Where did you hear that name?"

"In—a dream."

He furrows his brow at her. "A dream?"

She does not understand his reaction. Is he skeptical, or suspicious? Why would he be either one? "I know it's weird. I can't remember hearing it anywhere else. I wondered if he was mentioned in one of our history books, or on the radio, when I wasn't really paying attention."

"Hm." He goes back to picking the eggshells out of the yolk.

Korra bends down to peer at his downturned face. "So? Do you know who that is?"

Noatak purses his lips. "My understanding is … he was once a powerful criminal in this city. That would have been before I was born. Eventually he was imprisoned."

"What did he do?"

"I suppose he was like Lightning Bolt Zolt, in terms of notoriety. He was a waterbender … of unprecedented power. He did horrible things to innocent people, all out of greed." His tone and expression turn somber, as though he is far away. "Power like that … can change you, in the worst ways."

The topic of benders reminds Korra of something else she wanted to ask about, but her father's odd change in mood makes her wait until they are almost done with their dinner. Before she can bring it up, though, Noatak says, "I've been wondering if you should quit your library job."

"What? Why?"

He puts his chopsticks down, becoming less casual, more serious. "I want you to work for me full-time."

"But—what about the money?"

"Our finances are better than ever—but I guess I haven't fully explained? You know I ask people to contribute whatever they can. Those who can contribute funds do so on a monthly basis, and I draw my salary from that. You could do the same."

"I … I guess. Yeah. I can do that."

He notices her lack of enthusiasm. "I thought you'd be happy. You were so eager to take on more numerous and difficult assignments."

"I am. But …"

"What is it?"

"Well, I was going to ask if I could visit Asami. She offered to give me driving lessons. Do I have to ask for a day off to do that now?"

He does not answer right away. Instead he gathers their plates and brings them to the sink; he starts washing, and Korra takes a towel to dry each one he passes to her. It is their routine to alternate who washes and who dries, on the nights when they are able to eat dinner together; if one of them eats alone, they have to clean up alone.

"I think I'm going to have to say 'no'."

"Why?"

"You've been going out with your friends so much lately—"

"Twice in the past two months," Korra spells out. That might be a record for her, though not by much.

"I'm concerned your friendships might be a distraction."

"What's the big deal?" she wheedles. "It's not like I'm going out every night, or even every week―"

"What is this to you?" he interrupts, sounding severe. "Is it some game to give you a thrill, or an outlet to make you feel good about yourself, like you've done your good deed of the week?"

Korra is instinctively on the defensive, but cannot form a coherent rebuttal; she does not even know where he is going with this. He turns to face her fully, and his demeanor almost switches to that of Amon, passionate and dangerous. "Korra, this isn't some part-time job that you can keep distinct from your everyday life. This is my life's work. Soon equality will be a reality for every citizen, and from there the Equalists will only expand. From now on, I need every person's help. I need you now, more than ever."

She nods. "I won't let you down, Dad."

"Remember, this isn't about what you want. This is about what is right."

He is so confident in his convictions—his beliefs, his righteousness, his judgment. How can she doubt him? But then, how can he be so certain?

There is the fact that he can take away people's bending. He said the was a gift from the spirits, a sign of his mission, and a means of carrying it out. That makes sense.

Korra decides she will not let herself think about Mako and Bolin. They will lose their bending, but they will not be harmed—unless they try to fight the Equalists when that time comes, and Korra hopes they will have the sense not to. Hopefully they value survival over recreational ability. The latter may have contributed to the former, by giving them a stint as pro-benders to earn money, but they can find other jobs—Mako did mention the power plant—but he would not be able to work there without firebending, without lightning generation.

Maybe, when the time comes, she can help them find jobs that do not require bending. In fact, if she is going to work full-time as an Equalist, one of them can take her post at the library. She can easily picture Mako organizing books, doing paperwork, and reading on the job. Bolin … he has the right kind of personality for getting people's attention and making them excited. Maybe he could get a job like Shiro Shinobi's, announcing news and commentating on sports. Or Asami, being her generous and accommodating self, could get them jobs in her father's industry.

Asami. What will she think, when all of this goes down? Korra remembers the real reason why she wanted to see her again, to talk to her about Equalism before she can get the wrong impression of it.

"Dad? There was another reason I wanted to see Asami again. I want to talk to her about Equalism. I think if I just explained it, she'd understand our side, and maybe even want to help."

He considers her seriously, thoughtfully, before finally nodding in assent. "Put in a week or two of work, then you can have a full day off."

"Thanks Dad!"

Korra quits her library job, and starts going to the warehouse and tunnels on a daily basis. She asks the Lieutenant for the kind of work assignments that she used to dislike the most, things like deliveries, guard duty, and scouting missions. She cannot operate when her resolve is faltering. They cannot afford the least hesitation. Any weakness has to be either remedied or rooted out. So she will do odd jobs until her resolve is stronger.

She gets the feeling that the Lieutenant does not like her; he does not know why Amon values her, a chi-blocker who has only been an Equalist for two years. He agrees to her request, but reminds her that as a fully trained chi-blocker she remains on the roster of volunteers who rotate missions. This means that, inevitably, she will have to take part in more direct encounters with benders. She will have to live with that.

These days, Amon himself goes in the field and equalizes criminals. When they are later arrested, word of Amon's ability gets to the police, and then finally to the press, who move from treating Amon's ability as tabloid trivia to a serious subject of political and legal import. The editorials are full of letters applauding and denouncing the Equalists; which ones get published depends on which side the paper leans toward; some are more willing than others to censor according to the government's agenda, while a brave few make a point of being the voice of the people rather than the government.

The police and the Council clash over who should have the responsibility of "dealing with" the Equalists. Councilman Tenzin insists that taking measures against non-benders will only aggravate them and cause more division; Korra feels a degree of respect for him, for recognizing that. Tarrlok ignores that minority opinion, and plays on the other council members' fears to gain support for his motion to form a task force whose sole purpose is to end the revolution.

Noatak clicks his tongue when they reads about it over breakfast. "Typical."

Korra looks at him. "What? Didn't you expect some pushback, once they found out?"

"I did, but it's just typical for him to be the one to push for it. He just wants a reason to build up his own power."

Since the secret is officially out, Amon takes another step out of the shadows: he starts sending out radio messages across the city, words of warning to benders and encouragement to non-benders.

Korra hears the first one at night, while folding laundry in the apartment's living room. She is startled when his Amon voice—so different from the tone he uses as his everyday self—replaces the jazz music. "Good evening, my fellow Equalists. This is your leader, Amon. As you have heard, the Republic Council has voted to make me public enemy number one, proving once again that the bending oppressors of this city will stop at nothing to quash our revolution. But we cannot be stopped. Our numbers grow stronger by the day. You no longer have to live in fear. The time has come for benders to experience fear."

His words make Korra think about the word terrorism. It is more than just politically-motivated violence, although that is part of it. The motive behind terrorism, in particular, is to make people afraid. And Amon just admitted that is his purpose: he wants the Council and all benders to fear him and his followers.

Korra remembers how smug she felt when she saw fear in the eyes of the gangsters she attacked, and wonders if Amon feels—or wants to feel—the same way on a larger scale. It is tempting … but making people live in constant fear … that just sounds wrong.

There is no way she can share these concerns with Noatak. Questioning his revolution when it is just picking up momentum—at the very least he would be hurt; at worst he would be angry and disappointed with her. He might even doubt her loyalty to the revolution. That thought frightens her. What would he do if he thought she was not loyal? Give her a dishonorable discharge? Punish her as an example to the others?

Korra huffs and crumples the shirt she was folding into a ball. Why can't she stop questioning everything? Why can't she go back to following orders? All that has changed lately is that she realized benders are human, and some are innocent, and some are even likeable. That does not change the fact that most of them abuse their power, which is in itself unnatural. She has to remember the fundamental truths that form the foundation of Equalism. She is not fighting for a person or a militia or a political faction: she is fighting for equality, justice, and peace. Plenty of people have had to fight and frighten in order to achieve those goals. When violence has been taking place for a long time, another surge may be necessary in order to end it. That is, after all, how most wars and eras of conflict end.

After a few more radio messages, Amon makes a truly bold move: he demands that the Council cancel the pro-bending championship tournament and shut down the Arena, and threatens unspecified but severe consequences if they refuse. This ultimatum renews Korra's fear for the boys, but thankfully the Council agrees to comply, at least for the time being. When she is alone in the apartment, she tunes in to sports stations, and hears Shiro Shinobi and the Arena's owner, Butakha, talk about holding the final game after the Equalists have been "taken care of". Their foolish hope makes Korra smile, not smugly as she might have weeks ago, but sympathetically, almost sadly. There will never be another pro-bending match, at least not in Republic City. Bending will soon be obsolete, so, Korra tells herself, they should start getting used to it. For her part, she plans to help Asami get ready for it, or at least be open to the Equalists' ideology.

Author's Notes

Acknowledgment: My thanks goes to iruka-2013 for proofreading this chapter and providing advice!

Music: "The Prayer" by Celine Dion in Quest for Camelot.

Artwork (updated to include new pieces): I put out a call for artists to create character designs for Damasak and Hanami. A Tumblr user called hokalin or hokalinstag kindly took up the request. Unfortunately I forgot to mention that the characters were Korra's siblings, so their designs do not really resemble Korra or their parents. Next I asked eviechan68, who has drawn some amazing Makorra artwork and designed her own OCs, and she did a fantastic job bringing them to life: they look like their relatives and the drawings reflect their personalities quite well. Then my personal friend, who goes by a-little-rae-of-sunshine on Tumblr, made a watercolor painting of them. I cannot post the links here or on my profile page, but the pieces can be found on my Tumblr account and through an ordinary web search engine.

Names: I named Damasak after the town in Nigeria where Boko Haram kidnapped approximately 400 women and children in March 2015. His classmate Chibok is named after the town where Boko Haram kidnapped 200 women and girls in April 2014 (prompting the #BringBackOurGirls campaign). Hanami is a Japanese word for watching transient beauty; I thought that theme was applicable to childhood as well as elements of nature, and it kind of alludes to "Leaves from the Vine," which parallels much of this story.