The day after the first tournament match, Kise stood on his feet and dreamed of victory.
- match over, and if they had thought that the qualifiers were noisy then they hadn't been prepared for the first round of the tournament, seats packed and fans ready and roaring for it, a tiredbeatdowndowntrodnogoodpeople ready to take Republic City by storm, or at least to watch them do it, ready to be hypedupbunkereddownworkedoutmadetoscreamliketheyme antit ready to watch benders beat the crap out of each other but to do it with style and call it entertainment, ready to watch them bleed and call it glory.
Aominechi ripped off his helmet and spread his arms to the stands and screamed back out at them in victory. Kagamichi raised Kise's hand in his, laughing under his glass-faced helmet while Kise tried to catch his breath and only caught the fever, Republic City roaring with a hundred thousand voices, one voice, if only you opened your ears to hear it. Republic City jumping electric from house to hovel to heaven radio to radio to the sound of rain falling on the rooftop givemeyourtiredhungrywanderingseekingwanting and I will devour you whole and make you mine as I am yours-
And to think Kise had once thought this city didn't have a soul.
Someone pointedly cleared their throat, and Kise jumped awake. His glider, which he had been using to prop himself up, slid out of his hands, but Kise grabbed back for it under the glares of the United Republic Council. To a man- and one woman- they eyed him with all the icy power of Republic City's supreme governing body who controlled the United Republic of Nations and the not-unimpressive United Forces.
Kise had always gotten the impression that they thought him a little flighty compared to Avatar Ira, but Kise had also once been told by his predecessor that the best way to deal with uppity rulers who made redundant demands on the Avatar's time was volcanos. Surely there was some kind of middle ground to be found there.
Kise stifled a yawn. He was still sore from the match last night, even more sore than he had been after the elimination matches. Their opponents had been terrifying, advancing with such violence that they'd managed to give Kagamichi his first dunking in the whole season- only to be answered by Kagamichi's own violence, snarling back from the dismal first round with awakening fury and ruthless attacks. Kagamichi was just like his brother in that regard, though Kise knew Kagamichi would not appreciate the comparison.
Kagamichi and Aominechi were still sleeping off last night- or at least they had been when Kise left, called by an urgent messenger to attend the United Republic Council in session. Kise grumbled internally. The trouble with being the Avatar was that you knew exactly what you had done in a past life to deserve this- the same thing you'd done in all the previous ones: save the world.
On the far end of the bench Aida Kagetora sprawled in his chair, scruffy as always. Kise tried to smile at him- as Riko-san's father, surely he'd be a bit more welcoming- but Kise's hopes were dashed by Kagetora's cold stare. The Council's non-bending representative had always been friendly before, but now even more than Nakatani and Araki- definitely not morning people, either of them- his disapproval radiated from the bench.
Takeuchi cleared his throat. "Kise," he said. "We understand you participated in a pro-bending match last night?"
Oh, man. "Yes," said Kise, after a short internal debate about ratting out Kagamichi that began and ended with 'can't, he makes me nice food and never tries to kill me in my sleep'. "We won! My team's called the Lion-Dogs." He smiled winningly.
"We are aware," said Nakatani. He waved a newspaper at Kise. Kise caught only glimpses of the headline, AVATAR and PRO-BE- and LION and WIN.
Oh, man.
"Avatar.. Korra... did it too?" he offered, weakly. "There's precedent."
Takeuchi, expressively, put his hand over his eyes. Kise could tell the elder was going to be very relieved when he could turn the job over to Kasamatsu. As soon as he possibly could.
"Really," said Representative Araki. She kept forgetting to drink her tea, and intermittent puffs of steam rose from it as she reheated it each time.
"It's not-" said Harasawa, tugging on his bangs, his metal bracelet coiling and uncoiling on his arm, "wrong. But it does feel inadvisable. The Conference is in a week, and the delegates are already arriving. We understand the finals are running concurrently with the business of the Conference-"
Kagetora tched. "Listen, prettyboy," he said, leaning over the table. "Pro-bending is a bad business. Half the teams get fielded by gangs and the other half beggar themselves trying to stay in fighting shape as bruisers. We certainly can't stop you from doing whatever you want to do," he said, a little sourly, matching glares with Araki, "And I get you'll want to keep your promises to your teammates, but you gotta think about what it looks like you're condoning as the Avatar."
It was on the tip of Kise's tongue to ask what his daughter was condoning as owner and operator of the biggest local pro-bending league in Republic City, but several internal filters honed over millennia hurriedly cut in and assured him he didn't want to get between the Aidas and anything. Instead, Kise straightened up and put on his best don't-bother-me face, somewhere between Aominechi's example and Akashichi's. "I won't let it interfere with my attendance at the conference," Kise said, as if reciting a lesson he'd learned by rote. "And we're not engaging in anything with gangs. We're just trying for the championship, that's all. I wanted to keep my involvement low-key, but obviously that is no longer an option."
"Obviously," said Nakatani heavily, "that is clearly the case."
Kise shrugged, expressively. "We can't quit now," he said. In someone less exalted it would have been a whine. "We're just having fun." Clerks were beginning to pour into the main room, laden with the business of the day. The Council was starting early, nowadays, as well as ending late. "Are we done here?"
"No," said Araki, impartially eyeing the other representatives, the Avatar, and the busy clerks with an expression that suggested she could think of a great many uses for her hot tea. "We also wanted to inform you that Commander Akashi has called for a closed session and requested your presence. We received the message last night and made arrangements to inform all the relevant parties."
"Then we decided you might as well make the trip," said Kagetora. "It's later in the afternoon, when the Victory docks. Apparently it can't wait."
"Hah," said Kise. "That's early." The flagship of the second division hadn't been supposed to get in until next week.
"As stated," said Nakatani, "it cannot wait."
.0.
Aomine woke to an empty attic and a note on the table reminding him that pro-bending and training did not pay anyone's bills. He rolled his eyes as he read it: he had a job tonight, as Kagami damn well knew, and they had cash, he had cash, lots of it. The job wouldn't even be until the sun went down. Some events were going down, events important enough that even the roaring mechanism of the Republic City pro-bending league ground to a halt as the Victory and her convoy docked and thousands of Fleet soldiers flooded the city, coinciding with the retinues of diplomats of a hundred cities, and with them came out in force the peddlers and entrepreneurs of Republic City, discovering in their heart of naked hearts a sudden burning need to recreate and taste the dishes their long-ago grandmothers made in the lands from which they came, to rediscover the ancient art of bone-carving, to sing nomadic songs and dance like hot coals were beneath their feet. Nakatani had been the one to point out to Riko, acerbically, that further incitement to celebrate and make merry would probably result in a riot. Instead at the end of the week there would be the semi-finals, and then the week after that the finals, ready to be broadcast all over the city to some hundred thousand listening ears, ready to make the champions the toast of Republic City and all the world.
("Giving them time to form into factions," said Nakatani gloomily, "so that instead of a riot we have a nice well-defined small war.")
The Monsoons were awash with jobs (Ryou said) this time of year, and Aomine was living large off work that was practically nothing, a few hours of guard work and the really quite astonishing number of people who owed Mako money, who carefully avoided any mention of what had happened to Narook's and pressed little gifts on Aomine Daiki, the talented new pro-bender, the Red Monsoon's new star. Kazu had taken him behind the wheel of a car for the first time in his life two days ago, and Aomine thought he'd maybe hold out for a black one with red accents, something cool. Tetsu and Satsuki could help him pick, or maybe he'd surprise them with it.
Alone in the attic, Aomine quickly gave up on the idea of cooking lunch for himself and walked over to the restaurant where Ryou part-timed for steady cash because Ryou'd always give Aomine extra, and give it to him free into the bargain, if Aomine just wheedled a little in the right way. The streets were unusually full of people, and the great plaza in front of the Central City Station was choked with stalls setting up for what had been, in the old days, the Fire Days Festival, but now, long after the Hundred Years War, was mostly an excuse to party and let off steam. Here and there Aomine saw bright red uniforms, set up to patrol the streets; people kept going up to them trying to find out when the rest of the Fleet would get in, when the Victory would dock, if it was really true that Commander Akashi had- Aomine stopped listening and moved on.
Satsuki was planning for them to go out on the second night, and maybe the third as well, if they liked it, but she had to work tonight and wouldn't be free. It did look to be shaping up awesome: Aomine even saw a poster which advertised an open-air performance of The Boy In The Iceberg. He spotted the place Ryou worked at- a little dive called Gaku, set back from the main road. There was a guy setting up the frame of a stall outside it, ready to be dragged over the door and used to sell food straight from the kitchen during the festival. He glared at Aomine under his bleached hair, bending metal rods between his bare hands. "Keep moving," he growled at Aomine, when the waterbender stopped for a closer look.
Aomine ignored this and went in, walking past the mostly empty tables. Ryou was in the kitchen, frowning with concentration as he carefully arranged little carrot flowers on a plate.
"Lunch," said Aomine, poking his nose over Ryou's shoulder. He stole a couple of perfect little five-petaled flowers and crunched them up.
Ryou twitched all over. "A-Aomine-san!" he said, reproachfully, but immediately got on to plating something for Aomine, pouring curry over rice. Aomine ate it leaning against the kitchen table, wandering the stoves and picking out stuff he thought looked good while Ryou sighed and fretted.
"You in tonight?" said Aomine, mouth full.
Ryou shushed him so violently Aomine thought he was going to pop a vein. "I can't," he whispered. "I have to work here tonight- you know, it's the busiest night of the festival, I can't be out and- Aomine-san, please don't talk about the other job here, it's not the right place for- it's just not the place!"
"What are we, stinkweed?" said Aomine.
Ryou gulped. "It's just that-" he said. "The station isn't Red Monsoon territory, Aomine-san." He fidgeted. "If you talk about that kind of stuff here-"
Aomine burped. "Thanks, Ryou," he said, getting up, and slapping the other waterbender on the back. Ryou wheezed, all the breath driven out of his body, and waved Aomine out, just grateful that Aomine-san wasn't talking anymore about the other thing Ryou did for money.
The tough guy was still out there, and when Aomine paused to look up and down the street he squared up to Aomine and said, abruptly, "You the idiot who trashed Narook's?"
Aomine shrugged. "Maybe," he said, straightening to his full height, which brought them eye-to-eye. "What's it to you?"
I'll tell you this for free, since Sakurai's not a bad kid," said the guy. "It's not healthy to be in the Red Monsoons. If Sakurai had any damn sense he'd get out too, before you guys ran into something you really couldn't handle."
Aomine beat down his irritation. He couldn't start a fight on a crowded street, and he couldn't risk being taken in for Narook's, either, and Ryou had come up behind them, except that Ryou wouldn't be any help either, not if he wanted to keep his job.
"Wakamatsu-san!" said Ryou. "Aomine-san is- please don't fight here!"
Aomine rolled his eyes and began to walk off. If he hurried he could get in another nap before he had to turn up at the gym.
"I said I'm talking to you," snarled Wakamatsu, grabbing for Aomine's collar and stomping the ground in one smooth movement, scare tactics, throwing Aomine off balance as the earth cracked beneath his feet.
Now, Aomine was pissed off. He pulled water from the restaurant and shot it straight at Wakamatsu's stomach, knocking him back and away from Aomine, and followed that with a hit to his chest, slamming the earthbender up against the wall of the restaurant. Wakamatsu gasped as his back hit, trying to summon up another attack.
Ryou was on Aomine in an instant, pulling on his arm, draining away the water, and hissing at him to go, go now, and Aomine, looking around at the shocked faces of bystanders, got going before things got messy.
Behind him, he heard the metal frame of the shop's stall clang noisily as it dropped to the ground.
.0.
Takao sat in the uncomfortable wooden pews in the council room and tried very hard to stay awake. Because he was with Shin-chan, he'd been let in rather than having to stand outside with the squads who had been detailed to accompany the Commander and his retinue, but now Takao wasn't sure he wouldn't rather be out there sweltering in full dress uniform, instead of listening to old people drone on and on about supply chains. There'd been something interesting about pirates off the arctic circle about an hour back, and Takao had sat up to listen when they mentioned his old ship, but that had the only items on the agenda remotely worth listening to, and now it was back to the bureaucratic nonsense. Even the actual council members looked on the verge of nodding off. The Avatar, sitting on the other side of Shin-chan, had given up entirely and was now snoring gently on Midorima's shoulder. Midorima was sitting bolt upright and kept his eyes fixed on Commander Akashi, but his grip on his hand-carved walrus-frog-tooth pencil-holder was slack and he'd stopped pinching Kise to keep him awake twenty minutes ago. Takao figured they taught the attentive face to diplomats' children from birth.
"And that concludes my report," said Commander Akashi. He hadn't even been using index cards. The man truly was inhuman.
Nakatani was the first to stir. "Thank you for that, Commander," he said. Swiftly he kicked Aida Kagetora's chair, who woke with an expression that suggested he'd bitten down on his tongue.
"Yes," said Araki. "There are several matters we will need to discuss, on which your input will be welcomed, but obviously that will come later, during the conference."
Akashi bowed slightly. His gaze turned to the dignitaries who had attended his report. He did not appear to see Kise drooling on Midorima's shoulder, but Kise shuddered all over and jerked awake, elbowing Midorima as he sat up.
Kagetora got up, shaking off sleep. "Everyone, everyone," he called, "In honour of Commander Akashi's return and your attendance at our humble conference, as well as to mark the first night of the Fire Days Festival, I am holding a small gathering at my house tonight, which I hope you will all be able to attend." He winked at the audience. "Open bar, everyone!" A pleased murmur ran through the crowd.
Takao had heard about Aida Kagetora's 'small gatherings'. While the little people of Republic City thronged the city streets, the elite would eat, drink and be merry on the palatial Aida estate, mingling shipping magnates with diplomats of every stripe, Earth Kingdom plutocrats with Fire Nation nobility. And now Takao had an invite. Shin-chan's luck must have been carrying over.
As the meeting broke up and Kise started enthusiastically telling Midorima about his pro-bending team, Akashi beelined for their group, majestically ignoring all the people clamouring for his attention and cutting into their conversation.
Kise managed to stutter out their team's name before he was steamrollered with Commander Akashi's total lack of interest in things he considered inconsequential. Takao actually was following the Lion-Dogs; he had tickets for the next match and planned to cheer for the Avatar's team. He was working on getting Shin-chan to come, if only because once the seventeen-year-old got the stick up his ass dug in permanently, it was never going to come out again.
"You're going to the event tonight at Councilman Aida's estate?" Akashi said.
"Well, said Kise. "Well, we're kind of busy right now and you know what it's like in Republic City this time of year, I mean the traffic and the-"
"You are going to the party at Aida-san's estate," said Akashi.
"Oh," said Kise. "I guess I am."
.0.
Riko... mingled. When she'd been a child, these gatherings had been intensely boring to her; as an adult, she watched the flow of influence and power and was still intensely bored. The Avatar was standing attentively next to the Air Nomad representative, and next to him stood- Riko couldn't remember his name, but she knew that he was the guy whom they were expecting to take over as representative, so that Takeuchi could return to just being elder of Air Temple Island. He wasn't going to have much luck if he couldn't look people in the eye or stop stammering, as he had with her.
Riko looked for her father. He was deep in conversation with the Water Tribe representative, occasionally slapping Nakatani on the back, which the man endured with stoicism. He had arrived with a frankly strange young man carrying a Blue Spirit mask, but it seemed that that boy had escaped her father and his anecdotes, and was now deep in conversation with the Commander of the United Republic Fleet. Riko fleetingly wished she had someone to talk to, then considered that her two best choices would have been Hyuuga or Kiyoshi- not a date, and quickly reconsidered. You'd think that a party with supposed royalty in attendance would have been more interesting. Riko wished she was out instead, maybe at the festival. From the windows of the estate she could see the glow emanating from the city centre.
Imayoshi wandered up to her and then, seeing her expression, changed course and wandered off. Good. Riko wasn't in any mood to deal with him and his intimidation, though she wasn't surprised he'd gotten invited. Rats like him managed to smarm into everything.
Riko emerged from a conversation about the upcoming Future Industries electric car and noticed the young man coming up beside her. He must have shaken the Northern Tribe Waterbender.
"Commander Akashi," she said. They'd been introduced before, on Riko's trips to the Fire Nation, but still she felt uncomfortable around Akashi even though they were the same age. He nodded his head to her with exactly the right degree of polite recognition. Commander Akashi would never neglect to greet the daughter of his host. He looked good in his Fleet dress uniform, everything fastened up just right even in the heat of the mansion's foyer. It was just like him to wear it, too, and because of that, every single subordinate at the party was also sweltering, but no soldier dared to be less formally dressed than their commander.
"Aida-san," he said. "It's been a while."
"It has," she said, and they exchanged pleasantries. "Is the second fleet back in for long?"
Akashi's expression changed infinitesimally. "I've left my subordinates in place while I'm back on personal business," he said, and Riko followed the flick of his eyes to Avatar Kise talking animatedly to a guy with classic Fire Nation colouring and whose entire demeanor screamed nobility. Even the creme of Republic City society could not match the breeding in the set of his shoulders. With them was a very tall young man who was not wearing shoes. His clothes, however, were just as expensive and fine as his companion's, the very height of fashion. Riko had just told her tailor that her measurements hadn't changed and not to stifle her with ruffles. Kise, in somewhat less expensive clothes, twinkled at her over their shoulders. Commander Akashi had been the Avatar's firebending master, Riko remembered. There had been jokes about how it was 'traditional' and 'may spirits have mercy on the Avatar's soul'. She wondered what he thought of his protege becoming a pro-bender.
"Fire Nation business?" she said.
"Regrettably," he said. Riko sighed internally. That was Commander Akashi all over- nothing got in the way of his job, not even visitors from the royal court of his home country. "I understand the Avatar has taken an interest in your pro-bending venture?" he added.
Riko eyed him over her glass while she took a fortifying sip. Someone who didn't automatically assume her father was running the pro-bending league? And the question had the ring of interest, not the coolly polite tone he'd adopted all night, or whenever he had to see her. "Yes," she said. "His team is really doing quite well. The championships are coming up and they're quite the favourites."
The something in his face intensified. Distaste? "It seems very frivolous," he said, "for the Avatar to engage in such matters. I cannot understand what his teammates must be thinking."
Well, that answered that question. Frivolous, just like her father. They couldn't all become Fleet Commanders at eighteen, but the chief owner and organiser of Republic City's biggest pro-bending league prudently kept that thought to herself. "I suppose they're thinking they'd like to win," she offered.
"They must be," said Akashi, with the same faint air of offended cat. He extended his gloved hand to her. "Can I get you another drink, Aida-san?"
"Thank you," said Riko, accepting the out with relief. "But no, I've had enough."
There was a sudden stir as from the open doors, an officer pressed through the crowd, heading for Imayoshi. It was Momoi Satsuki. Riko liked the younger girl, sort of, but she didn't know what to think about her and her motley crew, didn't like to think about the trouble they could bring to her arena.
"Captain Imayoshi," panted Momoi. "There's- I mean, there is a matter that requires your urgent attention."
All at once, Imayoshi seemed to lose his perennial air of smarm, striding quickly towards her. Like that, he almost did seem like a stalwart servant of the law. "Thank you, Officer Momoi," he said, and bowed to the room at large. "Please excuse the interruption, ladies and gentlemen. Your tax dollars are always at work."
A polite titter washed through the crowd as they turned back to their socialising, but Riko was standing close enough to hear Momoi say to Imayoshi, "Sir- it's the Red Monsoons," and ice swept up her spine.
.0.
He felt only instinctive, automatic revulsion. The breath caught in Aomine's lungs, forced there by the rush of blood, the rush of power. He stared horrified at what was happening in front of him, the guards on the warehouse hanging in the air like limp dolls, trying futilely to struggle against Mako's hold.
But everything was all too clear in the light of the full moon. Mako's hands moved, and the guard screamed as his arm began, ever so slowly, to twist itself out of its socket. Mako was bending the blood in the guard's body, and blood-bending was a capital crime.
"Get moving," Mako ordered. "I want this place cleared out in three minutes. Any longer, and I might as well start killing."