Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.
Pairing(s): Tahno/Korra, Mako/Korra, one-sided Bolin/Korra
Genre: Romance/Friendship/Drama
Word Count: 11,175
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: The life and love of running, autumn, and high school cross-country. — Tahno/Korra, Mako/Korra. AU.
Author's Notes: 3/27/13. Sorry for the delay! This is a hugely important chapter and I've been working on it for a while. Please know that this story will end with 5.0... and please review! :)
Musical Inspiration: Anything that will get you PUMPED. (For example, I listened to an obscene amount of "Thunderstruck" by AC/DC.) And then I topped it all off with "Titanium," the Madilyn Bailey Cover, even though that will always forever be my favorite Lin Bei Fong song.
4.0
Well. Mako was right.
She did wake up feeling like a completely different person.
Although sleep was a loose term, Korra drifted awake sometime right before her alarm was set to go off. It wasn't until the snooze button had been hit twice, however, that Korra finally managed to get herself out of bed.
"Take the apple for now," Tenzin told her at the breakfast table, once she'd found her way downstairs. He added more peanut butter to his toast. "You can eat the bar once it gets closer to race time, but you shouldn't have much in your stomach once it starts... at least, if you want it to stay there."
The car ride to the school was quiet, mostly because it was just the two of them. Pema and the kids were following at a less ungodly hour, but that didn't mean that the dark, early morning was without their support; a small handmade card rested in Korra's lap: signed, hearted, and with the words 'Do your best!' scribbled in blue crayon. There was even a small stick figure of Korra racing across the finish line, a gold medal already hanging around her neck, and despite everything, Korra was finally feeling like it could happen. She glanced down one more time at the triumphant smile on the drawing's oblong face, and smirked.
Anything could happen.
To: T (D:)
Please don't delete this without reading it first. Tahno, I'm so sorry. I was in the middle of writing you an apology when I accidentally fell asleep, and I didn't get your text until it was too late. I am SO sorry. Look, I know you're probably wondering what the hell is going on, but you've got your race to focus on too, so I promise that I'll explain everything after you win today. If you still want me to, that is.
Sent: Saturday, Oct 19 6:48am
To: T (D:)
And just in case you wait until after the race to read these, well... I'm still hoping there's a chance that you're not too busy to keep your offer for tonight.
Sent: Saturday, Oct 19 6:49am
Korra flopped onto the bus seat with a sigh, hoping that she'd done the right thing. She hadn't agonized much over what to say—it'd all just come out in a rush, like her fingers had known exactly what she'd needed to say the most—but instead what she did agonize over was whether or not her little attempts at damage control might potentially make things worse. She certainly didn't want him to think that she was just acting on a guilty conscience. (She wasn't. Was she?) But if she didn't text him at all, then he might think that she really was still angry with him, or that she was avoiding him, which could be just as harmful and—really, it was awfully presumptuous of her to think that he might be thinking about any of this at all, especially today of all days, but—whatever. She couldn't think about this anymore. There was too much thinking. And she had her own race to focus on, too.
Which I'm gonna frickin' dominate, she stared out into the dark parking lot, watching as the dawn began to break. Just you wait.
A weight dropped onto the space at her side, breaking Korra's gaze from the hold of the brightening sky. She expected Bolin out of habit and Mako out of hope, but found Asami instead. Her surprise must have been obvious.
"Mako told me," Asami whispered.
Blind panic seized her, rocketing a million and one excuses and pleading apologies to the forefront of Korra's hay-wiring mind, but it was unnecessary. "I'm sorry, Korra," she quietly apologized, effectively shutting down all mental operations just a foot to her right. "I wouldn't have teased you so much about getting asked to the dance if I'd known about Bolin."
But that left her with hardly any relief.
Inside the bus was quiet; the air around Korra was literally buzzing with nervous energy, subdued and heavy. There were many music players and twice as many earbuds, and the most conversation she could hope for was a careful whisper. Many of her teammates' eyes were closed, but she knew better than to wonder if they were sleeping. The quiet could not be mistaken for calm.
The trees flashed by as the bus rolled down the highway, sweeping through a thick blanket of fog. Korra let her head rest against the window and mindlessly watched her breath condense along the glass. Occasionally, her mind slipped to the whereabouts of Mako and Bolin, who were apparently sitting together a few seats back. She had no idea what kind of things they'd talked about—or hadn't talked about—since she last saw Mako the night before, but she tried not to let it worry her too much.
It was only a matter of a few miles, yet the distance was irrelevant; in some ways the trip seemed to take forever and in others—in strange, impossible ways—Korra felt like it was ending too quickly, as if she could stay on this bus for hours, feeding off of the intensity of her teammates, absorbing the quiet energy that undulated between the seats. She could feel herself growing more awake, more alert, and it didn't have anything to do with the rising sun. This wouldn't be her first race, but it would be the first to count.
"This is it," came Asami's whisper from the side. Korra straightened, looking out the windows on every side of her, but her captain only laughed. "No, listen. You can hear it."
She wasn't exaggerating.
Although Korra was no expert on what a typical high-school cross-country meet was like, she could tell the differences immediately.
As soon as she stepped off the bus—duffel bag in tow, cheerful captain in tandem—Korra found herself in the wide expanse of a huge, busy parking lot, in which buses and cars of all shapes and sizes were filing in. Teams surrounded them on all sides, shuffling in packs of various colors and fabrics, chattering excitedly and heading off in the same direction. For a moment, Korra tried to take it all in, feeling the subtle pounding in her chest of the distant bass, not even noticing when Bolin and Mako passed them by and followed the rest of their team towards the fields beyond the wire fence; she was too busy reading the giant banner hung across the welcoming arch, for which someone was still stringing up the last of the balloons—black and gray, Korra remembered with a frown. Or is it silver?
"I know," Asami sighed with a grudging smile, breaking Korra from her reverie. "It's rather impressive, isn't it? Unfortunately."
"Is this our biggest race?"
"Nope," Asami smirked, noting Korra's awe. "But it's certainly one of the most important. Come on."
Beyond the parking lot was an entire world of bright, living green. White tents and tables welcomed them: the registration booths first, followed by a clearing with a stage and, of course, the speakers blasting the music that she'd felt all the way from the bus. Korra snuck a glance behind, only to find even more buses lining the parking lot, with even more student athletes trickling in. Everywhere she looked, there were huge arrows and signs detailing the locations of restrooms, a map with directions to the nearby lodge—owned by the local golf course, an official sponsor of the White Falls Wolverines—not to mention the snack stands and trainer tents, all enveloped by the far-off reaches of the surrounding forest. Korra's gaze roved the crowds, but too many senses were being assaulted all at once. Uniforms of all different colors, hoodies and tracksuits, and sneakers, everywhere. They passed another stage, this time with a podium for the awards ceremony, a number of computers and screens where the results would eventually be posted, and a giant, blank digital clock in black metal suspended over the stage.
"What's that for?"
"What? That?" Asami scoffed. "Just more proof of White Falls pretentiousness. That timer matches the one by the finish line, no doubt. But I bet that one's only a display... the one on the course actually has sensors to recognize the chip in your bib to record your exact time."
"Chip?" Korra repeated. "As in, like... a microchip? But that's... That's so—"
"Fancy? Yeah, tell me about it. The way they run things here, you'd think they were trying to host a road race, rather than a simple school meet."
Farther along the path, they came across a large pavilion, painted muddy brown and full of people. There was another stage inside—much, much smaller—that was playing music too, albeit not nearly as loudly. Korra still didn't know any of the songs' names, but the thumping bass and the steady drums were igniting all of the energy that she'd felt on the bus. Many of the people inside were wearing matching t-shirts—White Falls Wolverines 79th Annual Cross-Country Invitational—and the word 'VOLUNTEER' across the back in bold, capital letters. They were arranging boxes and coolers, setting up cash boxes and laying out t-shirts over picnic tables, animatedly talking over the loud music to one another as Korra watched on.
"Are all these people students?" Korra asked Asami, still eyeing everything in sight. Beyond the large pavilion were many, many more, though these were all much smaller in size. Extra picnic tables lined almost every green patch of grass available.
"Some of them might be, but there's plenty of family members too, I'm sure. And their sponsors and whatnot."
Korra watched in awe. "This is crazy." Are all the big meets going to be like this?
"I know," Asami laughed. "The Wolverines have a reputation of putting out... As much as we love to hate them—and hate them, we do—coming here is a treat in some ways."
"How much farther do we have to go? This place is ginormous."
"Not much farther. Our usual spot is right up ahead."
'Right up ahead' meant what was literally the pavilion farthest away from the actual proceedings themselves, nestled right into the edge of the massive pines. Korra wondered how much of that was strategic—it's certainly less likely for us to get in a giant brawl fight if we're as far away from one another as humanly possible—and decided that she wouldn't blame the event coordinators even if it were. The fact that they had a designated space at all was already mind-boggling; they normally just threw their bags in a heap on the ground. They shared a pavilion with the Bau Ling Wasps, but most of them seemed pretty amiable, and a few of them even exchanged handshakes with the other Foxes. As Korra was settling down onto a bench of one of the picnic tables in the corner, she noticed that a camera crew was making its rounds.
"Hey, Asami?"
"Hmm?" she asked, sipping on her water.
"Do the Fire Foxes have this many supporters at our meets?"
An indignant gleam entered her eye. "We wouldn't if it weren't for the rivalry; most of our school is too preoccupied with football and homecoming."
Korra winced, but tried not to show it. "Our football team... is it good?"
Asami considered this. "It's not bad," she said. Korra's frown deepened. "Hey, don't worry about it. It's not like—"
"Gather round, folks," Tenzin's deep voice resonated throughout the pavilion. The other team had gone off somewhere, left to do who knew what, but the Fire Foxes still huddled close, forming a half-circle around their coach. Korra hung in the back, standing behind the mostly seated crowd, and Asami stuck with her. She'd gotten so caught up in the morning's events that she'd completely forgotten to maintain her guard, and thus almost blew her calm when Mako took his place on Asami's other side. Their eyes met briefly, just barely even for a second, but Korra didn't dare linger any longer, and quickly faced forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Bolin had joined Mako at the end of the line, but it's not like she even knew if they were supposed to be on speaking terms or not, and Tenzin was already speaking, and—well.
Tenzin stood tall before them, hands crossed regally behind his back and a fierce light in his eyes, and that's when Korra knew.
This was it.
He looked at each of them, briefly, intently, sizing them up with quiet assessment, eyes hard and proud. It reminded Korra of the way he used to look at her when she was a little girl, when she came up for summer visits and she climbed trees for him and somersaulted off of swing sets; like he knew she was crazy... but that he'd never expect anything less.
In a weird sense of awareness, Korra could suddenly feel the ground beneath her feet. It was vibrating below her, thrumming with the music and the many footsteps pounding into the soil all around her. She was grounded. Solid. Something had happened on that bus, when she'd stepped off of it and planted her feet onto the pavement—something was happening now. This wasn't just about a bunch of student athletes at a high school meet; she was eight-year-old Korra, launching herself off of a nine foot-high oak branch; she was fourteen-year-old Korra, trained tracker and experienced wildlife explorer, standing at the peak of a towering ice cap; she was ageless, endless, a warrior to span the times; she was the very earth itself, the spirit incarnate of all those who had come before her, protector, warrior, heroine; she was seventeen-year-old cross-country runner Korra, and today, someone was going to eat her dirt.
Tenzin's eyes locked onto hers.
"We're here," he announced, the bold twinkle in his eyes growing stronger. Korra could feel the energy shift around them, and her teammates burst into spontaneous applause, whooping and shouting out their battle cries, to which Tenzin merely smirked and raised a placating hand. "Well, good morning," he replied, voice grave, eyes teasing. "I suppose this is a good sign, but I'll begin with this word of caution: a winner expects to win, but an honorable winner does so with silence and humility. After all," he pauses, eyes crinkling. "The Fox rarely spoils his own trick." Another few stray whoops called out, but Tenzin let it slide, earning himself a rare chuckle. Korra couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him in such good spirits. Well, hot damn, Korra mused with a private smile. It's like somebody's gone out and bought him a brand new yoga mat.
The laughter died down, and the seriousness dialed up. Tenzin's eyes grew fierce, his expression severe, and his smile expectant.
"If you're not prepared mentally," he warned them. "Then the race is already over."
The pep talk was over, but the team was still shifting and moving about as Tenzin called out his last-minute pointers. Korra curiously watched on as her teammates pulled out all sorts of contraptions—foam rollers and magic sticks and other strange-looking things that were supposed to help their muscles, or something—and suddenly, she was surrounded by a veritable whirlwind of bodies engaging in all sorts of stretching maneuvers.
"I know you!" Tenzin called out to the general mass, an accusing finger pointed to the team as a whole, and Korra had no idea what he was going to say, but half the people to her left were already cringing with guilt. "I know you, and I know that after that incline, you're going to want to fly down that hill—don't. It's not worth the potential for injury. Work the downhill to your advantage so you can recover, and take up your speed on the flat ground."
"Just how big is this hill?" Korra whispered, retying her laces.
Asami glanced up from her hamstring stretch, offering a wicked smile. "Why, Korra!" she whispered back. "I'd almost forgotten that this is your first time with Double D." Korra glowered; Asami merely laughed. "Trust me. It's steep. But you can handle it, I know you can."
"And don't forget your spikes!" Tenzin called out again. "It's best to put them in now, so you won't forget them come race time. The ground is still frozen in some parts, and muddy in others, so it's best not to take any chances."
Korra glanced down at the small, plastic organizer box still tucked in her bag, totally at a loss. She'd once joked that Tenzin only kept these boxes around to store his pills; he hadn't been too fond of that one, and she'd been more than a little surprised to find it full of tiny pieces of pointy metal. "Hey," she nudged Asami. "Sorry, but would you mind...?"
"First time using the spikes? Do you need to borrow any?"
"What? No, no, I've worn them once before, but—actually—I don't know anything about them, because the person who got me my shoes, well—here, this is what I've got."
"Whoah!" Asami quietly exclaimed, taking the small plastic box in her hands. Inside the opaque container were many small dividers, each organizing different sized bits of metal. "You have a really nice set, Korra. Whoever got these for you knew what they were doing."
"Ha, ha... yeah," Korra laughed nervously, forcing herself not to look up at Tenzin... and failing. She glanced up and saw that he'd caught what they'd said; he was as terrible at hiding his smirk as she was in believing that it was even possible. She made a quick face and turned back to Asami, cursing his unusually good mood. "Thanks."
Asami was still admiring her spikes. "Yikes, look at the millimeters on these suckers," she held up a particularly long one and smiled deviously. "Here, take these. You won't really need the longer ones."
Asami screwed the first one in for Korra, showing her the differences between utilizing all of the holes and only a few; based on her shoes and Asami's suggestions, Korra ended up screwing in all five of hers on each foot.
"We won't need them for a little while yet, though, so just wear your regular sneakers for now," Asami explained. "Since so many schools are coming from far away, this meet starts a little bit later than the others. Our race won't start until ten, and the boys' won't start until eleven."
She glanced at her cell phone. "But it's just before nine. What are we supposed to do until then?" Korra asked.
"Well, the early arrival is mainly a way for the coaches to get together and network, or to sign up for workshops and conventions and stuff. Plus, it gives a nice cushion for any traffic issues for the far-away schools. We can go to the merchandise tents and buy some t-shirts, but Fire Fox kids don't really ever wear White Falls gear... and believe me, they get plenty of donations without any help from us. I guess maybe they'd hope that we would just entertain ourselves with warming up or something."
"Isn't the whole point to rest beforehand?"
"In this weather, we gotta stay warm," she winked. "C'mon, let's run."
Asami reached down to offer Korra a hand, which she gratefully accepted. The rest of the girls were gearing up too, and it occurred to her that Asami was keeping awfully close today.
"I'm okay," Korra said suddenly. She'd meant to tell Asami that she didn't need to feel sorry for her, or maybe that she hadn't meant to make Asami think that she needed somebody to watch over her because of whatever happened with Bolin, but the words came out easily, like she'd meant them. I do mean them.
Asami merely smiled. Warmly.
"I know."
Before they went out to explore on their jog, Asami briefly took another girl aside to chat about something or other; she was still terrible with names, but Korra knew her as one of the other strong varsity runners who had originally evoked jealousy from her. While they spoke, Korra fiddled with the phone in her pocket, telling herself that it was no use hoping for it to vibrate. Today would be one of the last mornings she should expect a message from him.
Korra watched on as the girl smiled wide and Asami gave her a thumbs up. Next thing she knew, this young girl called out to the ladies of the team, telling them to group up.
"What just happened?" Korra asked curiously. "Isn't that your job?"
Asami smiled. "I'm training the new candidates for captain," she explained, easily falling back in line with Korra at the end of the trail. "Since I won't be running cross-country next year."
Korra blinked. "What?"
"I've always been more of a track kind of girl," Asami shrugged, unfazed. "I can hurdle like nobody's business. I was into volleyball for a little while and decided to give cross-country a try since I was so into indoor track, but... I'm thinking of looking into field hockey for my senior year." Korra digested this.
"You can do that?"
Asami merely winked. "You should see me play lacrosse in the spring; it's a different set of rules, but I'll still get to carry a big stick."
When Asami tilted her head and ran, Korra followed and, in spite of everything, she laughed.
There were so many teams. Asami and Korra were bringing up the rear, and as their pack passed through the throngs of people, Asami carefully pointed out and explained the different areas.
"You see that team over there? That's the Capital City Wildcats," Asami explained in a subdued voice, feet softly padding along the hard ground. "That's where we'll be next week. Their meets are always pretty chill, and their team is really solid. A lot of our team really likes going there because it's so much more relaxed and smaller than the ones like these."
"I kind of like this," Korra smirked, eyeing the hoards of people. "I could get used to feeling like I can crush so many people standing in my way all at once."
Asami laughed. "I feel like someone should just give you a pair of boxing gloves and throw you in a cage."
The boxing reference niggled at the back of Korra's mind, but some other distant thought caught her attention first. "You know what though? That school sounds really familiar, like I've heard it before."
"Well, I did mention it yesterday on the drive home, when you asked about inter-school relationships."
"No," Korra shook her head, eyes narrowing. "It's not that... It's like... It's like I heard about them even before I came here. But that doesn't make sense."
Asami looked at her. "Could you have?"
Korra gave up, shrugging. "Where would I have heard about them from? I don't know, probably just something that Tenzin was droning on about when I wasn't listening."
"Korra!" Asami giggled. "That is no way to show respect for your coach!"
Korra tripped over a pebble in her path. "Ha, ha... yeah."
Unluckily for her, a few team members from the Wildcats noticed. She glared while they sniggered. Fine. Underestimate me, why don't you?
The crease between Korra's brow smoothed, and her smiled slipped back into place. After all... a fox never spoiled her trick.
It was only about twenty minutes in before Korra realized she couldn't deny it anymore.
She was looking for him.
"Remember your cross-country mantra?" Asami asked, as they rounded a bend. After going through a number of in-depth explanations for most of the teams present—the Northside school, unfortunately, had yet to arrive—Asami had taken it upon herself to fill Korra's head with helpful reminders for the race.
"Which one?" Korra puffed out her cheeks. "I swear, people could write a book on running mindsets and strategies."
"Oh, they have," Asami informed her cheerily. "A few of them are actually pretty good. If you ever want to borrow any—"
That's when they saw them.
"Ah," Asami's voice dropped low, as they kept pace with the rest of the team. The shoulders of the girls up front had all inevitably stiffened. "Looks like we've entered Wolverine territory, at last."
Korra looked up, but tried to shield her gaze from being too obvious. The first thing she saw were the black and silver uniforms, the matching windbreaker pants and jackets with freshly embroidered names customized over biceps, chests, and backs.
"Must be nice to be able to buy new ones every year," a girl ahead of Korra commented bitterly. "Instead of having to cycle and reuse uniforms like us."
Korra tried to stamp the voice out of her head, letting her eyes rove over the huddles of teammates as casually as possible. Naturally, their pavilion was the largest, and much of it was decorated with their home colors. Many of the the teammates were up and about, talking in hushed voices and sending occasional sidelong glances towards them, but some were also doing a variety of warm-up stretches, both active and stationary.
"Damn," Asami said in a soft voice to Korra, keeping her eyes mostly forward. "Would you look at that? Not a single one of them is smiling. And look, over there… It's a few of Tahno's fan girls, come to cheer him on."
Korra's stomach wobbled, but at least this time she made sure to keep her pace. Asami was right though; she recognized the dynamic duo in street clothes immediately.
"They're looking this way," Korra whispered back. "Are they… glaring at us?"
Asami smirked. "Looks like they're glaring at you. Haven't done anything recently to piss them off, have you?"
Korra remembered her vision of their dreaded Homecoming from the night before and how she'd felt. Vindictive. Jealous. Bitter. "I may or may not have had a run-in with Tahno at the first meet," Korra divulged, staring the girls back down with a stink-eye. "They probably haven't been too keen on me since."
Asami's smirk widened. "Guess not. Looks like no one messes with Tahno and comes out of it without a few enemies," she laughed.
Korra licked her lips, privately enjoying the girls' embittered glares perhaps a bit too much; she had to though, because if she didn't, if she let herself think for just one second too long where else she could imagine those girls— "It probably didn't help that I snuck in an insult or two about his hair, either."
"Korra, you didn't," Asami laughed under her breath. "Forget the fan girls—no one insults Tahno's hair and comes out alive. You're lucky he didn't take you out himself!"
For a moment, Korra's brain fumbled with Asami's choice of words—my night is not yet spoken for—but even after she got things mostly sorted out, the most she could manage was a short, stiff, "Er—right."
"Ah," Asami breathed. "Speaking of: wherever the fan girls are, the Wolverine King can't be too far away. Look. There he is."
Korra's whole chest expanded with the force of her inhale, leaving her dizzy; it took another breath before her cowardly eyes finally followed orders and glanced up.
She almost wished she hadn't.
Although Asami was apparently right about the fan girl-proximity rule, he was still a little ways away, situated on the other side of some picnic benches underneath their pavilion; far enough away that she couldn't read the silver embroidery on his jacket, but close enough that she could see the serious tilt to his brow, could easily see the cold focus in his determined gaze. He was on the ground, sitting tall and staring straight ahead while a man in similar colors—his coach—stood over him. The man was speaking to him very quietly, with hushed tones and serious expressions while Tahno stretched, one leg extended and the other bent, with one heel brought close to his hips. His expression was so carefully blank, so coldly carved that she had no way of knowing if Tahno was even listening.
He didn't look up at them as they passed.
"I told ya," Asami whispered, as their team seemingly released a collective breath. "Nothing shakes that guy's focus."
Korra nodded absently. She couldn't respond.
"So," her—ex?—captain started anew. "That mantra. The single most important pacing guide that you'll take with you into any endurance race?" Korra blinked a few times, finally registering that Asami had spoken. Asami nodded patiently, then prompted: "Hey. Earth to Korra. Remember? The runners from the other teams? Use 'em…?"
She allowed herself one fruitless glance back, but her shoulder sagged as she ran, just a little. He still hadn't seen.
Korra swallowed.
"Then lose 'em," she whispered.
"This is it, ladies," Asami's voice rang out at the head of the pack, back in her usual place as the leader of the female running warriors. "Trade your shoes for flats and spikes. Playtime's over."
Korra didn't have a chance to even see the Amon Prep team until she was in the adjacent box at the starting line, but by then she was too amped to notice much of anything but the heart beating in her chest, and the sweat beading down her spine.
Asami was fierce; it was half the reason why Korra was feeling like she was already on fire, like they could take down these teams together, like they were unstoppable. She knew that there were people crowded not too far behind her, pressing in against the plastic tape and flags dangling in the autumn wind, screaming and shouting their support as the runners prepared their final warm-ups. She would know Meelo's ferocious call to arms anywhere.
All she could see before her was a long expanse of open field, mostly green with dying patches of dried brown, and at the end was a narrow footpath under a natural arch of pine tree branches. The path led to the trail that would take her all throughout the forest, winding along the property's edge by the neighboring golf course, back through the woods around the lake, up the dreaded Double D and down the long, smooth slope that would eventually carry her to the final stretch—just another half mile of long, flat dirt and stone under the shade of trees, and then finally, where the woods ended, Korra would only have just four hundred yards until the finish line, and then...
Then she would be free.
Korra ran in place, pumping blood and warmth into her legs. The loss of her extra layers was impossible to ignore, even with the additional protection of her leggings, underarmour, and fleece headband. But the chill kept her awake, kept her alive; there was something in the pit of Korra's gut like she had never felt before, not even in the deepest corners of the world. She was a live wire, an open nerve, and now, in this moment, she could run a marathon or climb a mountain or kill. She was focused. She had all of this energy and power bottled up inside her and the tension and the frustration and finally, undeniably, Korra felt good. Strong. Fast. She was tensed and ready, coiled like a spring, and today, she was going to dominate.
Before she knew it, she was off.
She felt the gunshot fire into the air, even if she couldn't hear it; where she should have heard the roaring thunder of a hundred of footsteps pounding into earth, Korra only heard the profound silence of an empty, open field as it grew smaller and smaller, closer and closer. (It was calling her.) Elbows dug into her ribs, knocking bones together with grunts and panting breaths as the runners struggled to keep pace and maintain their line; for a few moments, they were all in tandem, pushing forward like a solid wall hurtling toward the forest, and then the clearing tapered down to a mere dirt path. Suddenly, it was chaos, contained—lined and arranged by order as the runners quickly formed ranks that were ever-shifting, always changing. Korra nearly lost Asami during the first struggle to insert herself into the mess, but a quick burst of speed saved their partnership at the very last second. They couldn't waste breath on encouraging one another with words, but Korra could tell that Asami was proud of her, and that gave Korra all the will she needed to keep pace. She felt invincible.
Careful, her mind warned. Korra could already tell that some were running too fast, exhausting themselves beyond repair, and she was wary of those who were letting themselves drift behind too easily; they would be back, and if she wasn't cautious, they would gladly overtake her.
Korra scoffed, letting out a feral smirk.
They can try.
And deeper into the forest, they went.
"Do it," Asami's gritty voice rasped out. Her captain kept shooting demanding glances her way, but Korra couldn't bring herself to tear her eyes away from the path. Small groups of twos and threes shadowed them from behind the shrubbery they'd just passed, but in the stillness of the woods, they were mostly alone. "Don't hold it—in. You'll feel—better—afterwards."
A sharp shake from Korra's head, her neck stiff with determination. Her stomach was rebelling against her, and acid was welling up into her throat, but she forcefully swallowed it back down. It was better than blood, anyway.
"Almost—done," Asami urged her. "Stay—with me through—Double D—at least. We'll go down—together."
Korra breathed in and out—in, then out, in, then—oh god, she thought, as her stomach rolled. The roof of the trees had ended, and she'd shot straight out into a small clearing, which seemed to end as soon as it started. At first Korra's mind couldn't register the new line of trees immediately blocking her path, until she realized that the trail took a sharp turn and—oh, no way. No way. She kept running—because she had to—but the sight before her... Oh god.
"Ah—sami—"
"Do it, Korra," she hissed, and Korra had the distinct impression that she was no longer referring to the pool of stomach acid threatening to rise. For a split second, her mind was blank—quit, quit now—but with a soft grunt, Korra shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and swung her arms more purposefully, pumping her body forward; that first drive of her knee onto the hill was one of the hardest steps Korra had ever taken... at least, until she took her second. Or her third. Or the eleventh. But still, Korra listened, and Korra ran.
Because the only way to go was up.
She'd made it maybe fifteen steps out of the chute before she was tackled.
"Oh my—god!"
She was going to throw up. She was going to just keel over and vomit, just like she'd always feared, but someone was holding her up, with tight arms wound around her torso, so maybe not? Oh!—oh, just kidding, maybe yes. I'm going to throw up. Like... Right now. Just like—ugh, just like the girl behind me, oh god—or better yet, I'm just gonna drop, maybe collapse onto the hard, solid ground and just explode, or melt, or—
"You did it!" came a muffled cheer.
Asami pulled her face out of the crook of Korra's sweaty shoulder to watch her response, but she merely blinked. "I did?" Korra replied uncertainly, as a wave of vertigo rushed through her. Did she still have feet? Where were they? What are feet?
"Yes!" Asami exclaimed, her face beet-red with exhaustion and ecstasy. Korra could practically smell the endorphins flying off of her. In a really strange way, it was calming. "You did! You tore that hill apart!"
"Really? Because I'm pretty sure it was the other way around."
Asami squeezed Korra with all of her might, locking her in a side hug that she was too tired to fight anyway—and whatever, it wasn't a big deal if she actually sort of liked it, right?—and let out all of her excess energy in a very joyous squeal; trapped inside Asami's embrace as she was, Korra got the full brunt of it. She didn't mind.
"Congratulations, lady," she announced proudly, slipping away and standing tall in the breakthrough sunlight. "You just ate that hill for breakfast."
"Oh, god," Korra groaned. She doubled over dramatically and thrust one hand out towards Asami for support. "Please don't mention breakfast."
Asami laughed like crazy, which made Korra feel crazy, but also really, really happy. Genuinely so. Surprisingly so. As the rest of the world began to make itself known to Korra again, she realized just how... awesome she felt.
"You look like someone who's still drugged up on a running high," Asami quipped knowingly.
"Oh, trust me. Everything frickin' hurts, but... yeah. I feel good. I feel..."
"Alive?"
"Yeah," Korra repeated with a smile. "Alive. In pain, but definitely alive."
"You want to check out the results tent?"
Korra paused her light stretching, freezing her extended arms in place above her head, and blinked. "Results?"
"Yeah, you know—your placement and everything."
"Oh."
She'd forgotten.
"Whoah, I'll take that as a yes, then? Your smile just got like, freakishly wide and—"
"No," Korra replied with a smirk. "That's okay, I'll... I can wait."
Asami wasn't kidding about the runner's high; she felt incredible. After the character-breaking, soul-chewing experience that was Double D, she'd finally gotten her second wind at the very top of the hill. She drove up that climb, literally pushed herself to the limit to reach the summit, and when she finally arrived there—in a world of crisp, gorgeous autumn, where not all the trees had yet lost their leaves—she felt the way she sometimes did when she was in the park, when she was with—when she was with Tahno—like she was flying.
She wished he could have seen her.
Korra deepened the stretch, taking an even firmer hold on the soles of her regular sneakers as she laid her chest over her thigh. The stiff grass tickled her skin, even through the fabric. With a sigh, she rested her forehead against her knee, and hid her frown.
She wasn't even really sure what it was that she wanted him to know; it'd been obvious for some time that she'd been stronger over the last few weeks, and where the improvement was coming from really was anybody's guess... It was probably a result of a lot of things.
But she had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with her eating plan, and more to do with her motivation.
She'd told Mako the night before that maybe her brain just hadn't switched over yet... Well. It's definitely switching all over the place now. That flight down the hill had been exhilarating, but it was also terrifying; Korra could understand all too easily the temptation that Tenzin had warned them about. All it would have taken was a tiny burst of extra speed and she really would have been flying. It helped to have Asami there to guide her, but it took all of her will power not to let herself lose control. And that's when she'd felt it—the switch. The pain turned into awareness and the restraint—the control—turned into freedom and she got it Or, at least... she was finally starting to get it.
She'd lasted just until the bottom of the hill, and then Asami took off like a bullet. Korra had watched her back disappear behind a curve of trees in awe, too impressed by her stamina to feel very jealous, and tried to keep pace with as many of the other teams until she was certain that she'd recovered enough to kick things up a notch. She could hear the crowd through the last fringes of the forest, feeling their cheers reverberate through the spaces between the trees; the ground was flat and covered in mulch, a narrow, winding trail that wove around a little ways away from the perimeter of the lake, with steep banks leading down to a lower trail closer to the water's edge—but that wasn't enough to stop Korra from tearing through the ranks. She plowed toward that finish line, and when she came bursting out of the woods and into the open air of the final stretch, she nearly faltered—so disoriented by the light and the hordes of people—but she kept running, even when she thought she was going to fall, to collapse, to cry, to simply break, because there were too many people behind her, gaining on her, and she would rather break into a thousand pieces than let them take what belonged to her.
And then everything had happened all at once.
One second she was racing toward the finish line—a long, wide, seemingly innocuous line on the ground, if not for the giant timer hanging over it, and the throngs of people screaming from behind their metal barriers—and the next she was over it. Done.
Done.
She'd been moving so fast, but the chute was starting to clog with so many people, and she had to keep moving, she couldn't stop because everything inside her was still rattling around—her legs were throbbing, fingers twitching, heart pumping, stomach churning—like her body still expected her to run farther—forever—but the people were everywhere and there was nowhere to go. Korra desperately ran in place, trying to slow her heart rate while she waited for the back-up to clear away, when she felt the first bouts of nausea truly begin to emerge. The sweat was cooling on her skin, and everyone in uniform around her looked miserable, and she asked herself again—Why?
And then that whole exchange with Asami, her captain—her friend?—and later with Aunt Pema and Jinora and Ikki and Meelo and Uncle Tenzin... They all looked so proud of her as she slowly made her way over to them, and her heart swelled with gratitude as they jogged to meet her halfway and encased her in a group hug that warmed every inch of her. Nobody even complained about how much she smelled. (Meelo didn't count.) She'd almost forgotten that they'd been waiting for her at the end of the race, and seeing their proud and cheery faces soothed Korra's aching muscles in ways that foam rollers and magic sticks never would. Okay, that's probably a lie, she admitted to herself, as she'd waved them goodbye and made her way back towards the others. It was the thought that counted.
Mako and Bolin were out on their warm-up, but the whole boys' team gave a truly rousing cheer as they passed by their sweaty, happy female counterparts, who were taking a brief moment of respite by lounging in the grass. She gave them all a victorious thumbs-up and whooped, long and loud. Her feelings must have been clear as day, because Mako was practically beaming... and Korra's smile was nothing less than genuine as she and Bolin locked eyes. He even managed a quirky double finger-gun, which only made her smile even harder. It was as if things were almost back to normal.
Maybe even better?
But here she was, back in the pavilion with the rest of her teammates, laced up in her regular, muddy running shoes, and thinking about the one face she hadn't seen since crossing over the finish line.
Korra took a deep breath and rose up, releasing the stretch to simply sit and take a moment to not think too much about anything. This was ridiculous. Of course he hadn't messaged her back; he had a race to win, and the last thing he needed pestering him was some half-sensical half-apology for some pseudo-issue that didn't even make much sense anyway in the first place. And she did well today. For the first time, Korra was finally feeling like not only could she survive a race, but that she could keep up, too... and to be honest, since the whole disorienting, confusing—terrifying—displacement of her move, she was finally starting to feel like she could keep up in other ways, too. She'd screwed up last night, but she'd screwed up plenty of times, and things always worked out in the end, right? Korra couldn't worry about it now; what she should be focusing on was how wonderful her body felt, and how free her mind could feel, and just what she was capable of because, truly, Korra hadn't known.
This was her best race.
No matter what the records showed.
"Aren't we going to do our cool-down run?"
"We gotta see the boys off first," Asami nodded, face flushed. "We'll do our easy jog around all of the spectator points so we can watch what little of the race we can."
Korra's heart skipped. "We'll actually be able to see them on the course?"
"At parts. I know it's kind of hard to remember because you were so in the zone, but a bunch of people had formed little crowds during our race, too."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but like I said: when you're in a race, everything else is just irrelevant."
Korra frowned.
"Right."
Korra awkwardly waited at the fringes, trying to ignore the niggling itch of guilt and shame; Asami's conversation with Mako appeared to be over, and she was awarding him with a good luck kiss. Bolin seemed equally interested in looking elsewhere, and when their gazes accidentally met, it was with all the awkwardness Korra had really hoped would die. The awful feeling didn't disappear when Asami returned, but it was a far better alternative to having her standing so close to Mako. Everything about the whole exchanged seemed stiff and unnatural, which was so unlike everything that Korra had come to know.
"Bad news," Asami said in a quiet voice when she'd slipped back into the large group of cheering Fox girls. Korra's eyes narrowed with concern.
"What is it?"
"Nothing all that surprising, but it's still not a good start," Asami whispered with a huff, eyeing the boys' teams beyond the tape. The Fire Foxes were one of the first teams to arrive, and the boxes were filling up quickly. "The Northside Brothers are here."
Korra waited. "So?"
"It seems that the captain has an even greater penchant for trash-talking than our dearly beloved Wolverine King," she hissed, while Korra's stomach somersaulted. "Apparently, he's far less combative than any of the other jerks we've encountered, but... I don't know, Korra," she admitted worriedly. "This guy must have a way with words or something, because this is looking bad. Mako couldn't tell me everything, but I know him; he's riled up."
"But... but that's good, right?" Korra tried. "He can use all that energy to his advantage."
"Not if he loses that hot head of his," she grumbled, but there was real concern hidden beneath the annoyance, which made Korra hesitate. "And that's not the worst of it—the Fire Foxes weren't the only ones present for the whole macho throw down, either."
"You... you mean—"
"Yep," Asami sighed, and offered Korra a meaningful glance. The crowds were still cheering all around them, but Korra could only hear the beating of her heart, thumping loudly in her ears. "I don't know what was said... But I bet it wasn't pretty."
Korra continued to stare at the other girl long after she had turned toward the starting line and flipped the 'captain' switch back to on! The noise of the crowd came filtering back into Korra's brain and she blinked away the confusion, carefully turning her gaze back toward where Mako and Bolin were whispering intently. She tried watching their expressions to see if any more could be given away, but their faces were ironclad masks: stern, stoic, and focused. When she felt the skin of her neck prickle—the feeling of being watched, herself—Korra's head snapped to the side, quietly seeking out the pair of eyes that she hadn't even realized she'd been waiting for.
Eventually, amidst the busy mass of black and gray, she found them. They just weren't looking back.
C'mon, look at me, Korra silently begged. Please, look at me.
But of course he didn't. He was Tahno, Captain of the White Falls Wolverines, and he was going to win this race. He didn't have time to look back at a strange, little foreign girl he'd only met a few weeks ago, and a mediocre running partner who bothered him on the weekends. She didn't even respond to his texts properly.
Korra bit her lip hard, trying not to lose it at the worst possible moment in the worst possible place—especially not after all that she'd been able to handle that very morning. God. What had happened to all of that control that she'd been blathering on about just twenty minutes ago? But the truth was growing more and more impossible to ignore: she missed him.
She missed him so bad, even though he was right there, and she'd never felt the distance more strongly than she did now. Anger and embarrassment and shame and a million other emotions too confusing to name washed through her, but it was too much to think about all at once—and she was not going to start falling apart as soon as she was finally starting to pick herself up—so she squashed it all down, brutally, forcefully, until everything was back in place. Including her tears.
She swallowed, and when she looked up—Mako's eyes were staring right into hers, tight with confusion and concern. Her breath hitched in her throat—did he see... how much did he...?—as a fleeting moment of panic swept through her, but then she forced herself to relax—control. It didn't take long for her to find the Amon captain: a tall, broad-shouldered guy who exuded leadership, and who she might have admitted to being reasonably attractive, if she didn't know him to be such a danger. Her gaze pointedly flickered between the two of them, and when it finally rested on Mako, she gave him a savage smirk; he seemed perplexed, but willing to play along. Warmth flooded Korra's belly, and the smirk became a smile. Later, she would regret it, but in the moment, it felt right; it was simply an impulse.
"Go for it," she mouthed.
The words left a bitter taste in her mouth as soon as she said them, and her smile turned forced, but Mako didn't notice; he was already turning back around, his smile set firmly in place. A sinking feeling swirled in Korra's gut, so strongly that the nausea came back in full-force, but—control—she held it together. She could do this. She could stand there and watch Mako take off and not think about all the things that were wrong with this picture and—who was missing from it—or what else she'd screwed up lately, and instead focus on the important things, like—
Like how Tahno was looking at her.
The realization of this fact was enough to yank the world right out from underneath her, but she was still inexplicably upright, staring back. She blinked, still processing the strain in his jaw and the coolness in his eyes, and by the time it really hit her, he was already staring straight ahead, eyes blank, and she felt the gunshot all the way to her core.
"C'mon, ladies," Asami soflty sighed beside her. "Let's make this a cheering cool-down run, shall we? If we jog to the spectators' points, we just might be able to catch them throughout the whole thing!"
Her hand shot out, clasping around Asami's wrist. The other girls rushed on ahead of them, chatting excitedly with the massive migration of the crowd.
"Asami," Korra whispered carefully. Control. "Are they... are they gonna be all right?"
It wasn't what Korra wanted to hear.
"I don't know," Asami wavered. "Maybe I'm worrying too much... I just hope they can keep it together. Korra, are you okay?"
Korra swallowed bile. "What do you mean?"
Asami paused, licking her lips thoughtfully. She tried to return her gaze, but her eyes just couldn't seem to stay level. "Never mind," she whispered, giving Korra's hand a gentle squeeze. "Now, come on. We've got a race to watch."
They missed the first two spectator points due to the crowds, but the top candidate for the following year's captain position knew a shortcut to the third—brownie points, Asami had laughed—and soon they were huddled together around the wooden gate that divided the race course from the many hiking trails woven into the forest. Her fingernails dug into the bark as she waited, but everyone else was far too excited themselves to notice Korra's crippling anxiety.
Asami kept glancing at her occasionally, but she couldn't look back. Not yet. Not until she was sure.
"Here they come," Asami whispered.
Korra's fingers clenched onto the fence with all her might, and the people behind her—her teammates, their sponsors, supporters—inched closer to be the first to see, but it was no use; Korra was right at the gate, lodged in the tight space between Asami and another Fox, crumpled against the wooden poles. She could hear the footsteps pounding into the ground from around the bend, and her breathing—everything—simply stopped.
The wind was biting, but Korra barely felt it at all.
The older Northside brother—Noatok, she'd learned—was who she saw first, which sent her insides sprawling into a chaos worse than she'd ever known, but a quick second passed and Tahno—Tahno!—appeared from around the bend, neck-and-neck with his competitor. They were fierce and fearsome and all the layers of focused she's always heard them to be; this wasn't supposed to be something new to Korra, but this—this—was a version of him she had never seen—you haven't seen him on the course—and she couldn't say that she knew exactly how to feel.
Mako and Tarrlok were close behind—and it was then that she heard just how loud the screaming had escalated—but none of them saw her, none of them had the time to spare a single look, not now.
And just as quickly as they'd come, they were gone, followed by packs of colors and fabrics and so, so many athletes, and still, she couldn't see any of them. She could only see Tahno's face, intent and clear and determined. Was he even the same person? Did the universe really expect her to believe that he was supposed to be the same guy who shared his Spaghetti-Os with her two nights before? He was so fast. He looked so... focused.
Like nothing in the world could stop him.
And she hated herself for it, but deep, deep down—in that stupid, stupid selfish part of her that Korra knew was there and hated—Korra wondered just how much she could really hope for in a guy who could so easily separate his feelings, especially when hers were nothing but a clouded, chaotic mess. Korra wondered just how much of the previous night's insecurities were actually unjustified; she wondered just how much he really thought of her.
Korra swallowed back her tears, again. No, she scolded. Not yet.
"Go," she urged him, in a quiet whisper only she could hear. "C'mon, pretty boy."
And then the crowd was moving on, already ready for more, but Korra couldn't release her fingers from the bark.
"Korra?" Asami called.
"You... go on ahead," she nodded unsteadily, feeling sick. "I think I'm going to head back to the main camp instead."
"Are you... are you feeling all right?"
A lie was already on the tip of her tongue, but for reasons she was too tired to comprehend, she withheld it. "No," she answered hesitantly. "Not really."
Asami nodded. "Do you need someone to go with you?"
"No... No, I'll be okay enough on my own. I just need to... I'll meet you back at the main camp."
And then Asami left and Korra ran, and she didn't stop running until she was all the way back at the finish line. She'd meant to keep going—forever—but then she caught sight of the giant clock hanging over the familiar line of innocuous victory, and she couldn't bear to stray away. A self-depreciative smile crossed her lips and, with an ironic huff, Korra resigned herself to her post: an empty, insignificant spot among the many others lining the final stretch, somewhere between the trees and the end.
Korra waited among the quickly-growing crowd, watching the timer tick away. She couldn't help it; she thought, What was Tahno's personal record again? Her brows furrowed together, and she peered closer into the line of the trees, looking for any sign of movement. Weird, Korra thought.
She wondered if—somehow—the timer might have been off.
That's when she should have realized that something wasn't quite right.
When she first saw the medical team, her first thought was —Tahno.
But the body was all wrong and the uniform shouldn't have been those colors and that wasn't Tahno on the stretcher—
—it was Mako.
"Wha—what?" Korra whispered brokenly, while her once-captain rushed beside her. She immediately clutched onto her wrist for support. "What happened?"
"Oh god," Asami hissed, sliding her palm, tense and open and stiff, against her temple. "Oh, god."
"Asami—what—?"
"Quick, we gotta get over there before too many people crowd around and we can't get in!"
"What is going—?"
It wasn't until they got closer that Asami saw; Korra couldn't tell if her sigh was from relief—or fear.
"He got spiked," she quietly hissed.
"What—what does that mean?"
Asami's eyes were drawn tight with worry, but neither girl could move any farther. They were still clinging onto one another's wrists, trying to weave their way through the onlookers, and Asami was getting impatient; Korra held tight with all her strength as Asami shoved through crowd. "Goddammit—let us through! Come on, people! Ugh."
"Asami—"
"It's one of the dirtiest tricks a cross-country runner can try," she spat, her other fist clenching at her side. "Save for flat-out pushing them over a cliff."
Korra didn't need any further clarification.
They kept pushing and pulling, nearing the medical trainer's tent with each shove growing rougher than the last, and as they got closer they could see a new crowd forming—race officials and coaches and medical personnel and—
Oh, no.
Panic seeped into Asami's voice. "Oh, shit," she hissed as they almost reached the tent. "If it was too close to his heel—no, no, it can't have been. It had to have been just the calf muscle. If it's just the calf, then—"
"It's all right, girls," came a deep voice from the side, effectively stopping them in their tracks.
"Tenzin," Korra breathed. Her exhale lifted an impossible weight from her body, but she was still wound tight enough to snap in half at the slightest prod.
"It's a shallow wound... as far as these things go," he replied tiredly, already so very different from the lively, youthful uncle she'd had that morning. "It'll take a day or two, but he'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" Asami whispered. Korra could feel her trembling. She couldn't tell if it was from concern... or rage. Tenzin's look was understanding.
"Yes."
And it occurred to Korra, then—where is Tahno?
"So everything is going to be okay?" Korra asked, needing her uncle's reassurance. Asami stood silently beside her, stiff as a board.
"Not... just yet," Tenzin cautioned. "There is the potential matter of pressing charges."
Korra's brain went blank, and Asami beat her to it.
"Pressing charges?" she balked. "Against whom?"
Korra's mind reeled. Who the hell would...? One of the notorious Northside Brothers? She didn't know about the younger one, but the older one certainly seemed capable of something like—
Tenzin looked up, in the direction of another group of people on the opposite end of the camp, huddling around another tent. On the far side of the field was Tahno... surrounded by administrators and a very angry, red-faced, shouting coach.
"What?" Korra hissed, as fire balled itself into her chest. "No way."
Asami looked at Korra in surprise. Tenzin looked at Korra very seriously. He was about to say something, when all of a sudden a commotion from the trainer's tent rose up, and gap in the crowd appeared, revealing that Mako was trying to stand.
"Mako!" Asami cried out, and their team suddenly converged on him, while Asami tried to call for space. He looked beyond furious. Korra longed to run to him, to make sure he was okay, but Asami already had her arms around him.
Korra forced herself to turn away. "What happened, Tenzin?" she demanded.
"Korra," he began, cautiously, like he saw a caged and wounded animal, coiled and prepared to strike—to lash out. "Until the board can complete their investigation, their athletic standings have been suspended."
Her head gave a brutal, frustrated shake. "What does that mean?"
"Korra," he repeated, more softly. "It means that they've been disqualified."
Something seized Korra's wind tunnel, clamping it shut. What?
"What?"
"Both Mako and Tahno have been disqualified from the race—" Disqualified. "—but from the looks of things, Tahno may very well be prohibited from completing the season."
Disqualified.
"Unfortunately, that's the price of cheating," Tenzin said, in his old, tired voice. "With that kind of foul play, he'll be lucky if they even consider allowing him to return for either of the track seasons."
Disqualified.
Something yanked on her gut, and pulled.
"But—but what about—they can't just—"
Seeing her distress, he placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "Korra," he tried to soothe. "Everything is just speculation until they complete the investigation."
She didn't want to hear about an investigation. She wanted to tear shit apart. She wanted blood. Korra turned her accusing eyes on her guardian, a few choice words carved into her tongue—
But his look was understanding, and she was no more; she was five-year-old Korra, tucked beneath the covers while her uncle assured her that the storm would pass, and told her stories of the wind; she was small and fearless and fragile, and he was the only one who knew how to put the bandages on properly; she was twelve-year-old Korra, bored and restless, and he was patient and kind and more like Grandpa Aang than he would probably ever know; she was seventeen-year-old Korra, lost and angry and confused, exiled from her own life, and unable to think of anything else; he was the one who gave her a home and a family... just for the meantime.
Korra's lip trembled, and her shoulders sagged under the weight of the world.
"How did this happen?" she whispered. To him?
"Korra... I know he's a friend of yours, but I need you to trust me on this. Until the board examines the evidence and makes a final decision, there's nothing we can do."
But... she looked up at him, hoping for guidance. What's he supposed to do?
There was nothing more to say, and even though she appreciated his presence, he had many responsibilities calling after him—most of them, literally. "Excuse me, Korra," he apologized. "We'll discuss this more in-depth soon, all right?" Korra merely nodded.
It was only after Tenzin had jogged his way to the medical tent that she saw who'd been standing not far behind.
"Bolin," she breathed.
She could tell that things were moving all around them—visitors trying to get a closer look at the spectacle, other athletes cooling down after a race that nobody won, people shifting and milling about—but they just stood there, silently, not quite able to look each other in the eye. Korra's mouth ran dry and a voice filled her whole head, ringing in her ears. It was Mako's.
He knows.
Korra licked her lips, but to no avail. "Bolin," she began, but had nothing to say.
"Well... I can't say I'm surprised this time," he said, voice surprisingly soft. The sound of it raised goosebumps along Korra's arms.
"Bolin—"
"Don't worry," he offered up a sad, self-depreciative smile. "Your secrets are safe with me."
"But that's not what—Bolin, I..."
"I get it," he shrugged, face turning grim. He was already walking away. "But hey... At least, this way you won't have to worry about dating a teammate, right?"
It wasn't until he was completely gone that she realized she was crying.
He'll do whatever it takes.
I usually get what I want.
Now don't mess with this guy, he's a nasty dude.
A bona fide manslut.
"God," Korra whispered, to no one. "I am so... so stupid."
"Korra?" came a feminine voice from behind her. Hastily, Korra wiped the stray tears away. "There you are! Oh... Korra, are you okay?"
She sniffed, trying to surreptitiously pretend like she hadn't just started crying for no good reason in the middle of a high school cross-country meet. "Yeah. Yeah, no, I'm totally fine. Is..." God, not now! "Is Mako okay?"
"Forget Mako for a minute," Asami quietly exclaimed, taking hold of the girl's shoulders. Crap. No, stop, no, no, no. "What happened to you? Korra... what's wrong?"
"I don't... I don't even..."
She hadn't cried since the night her parents had announced that they were shipping her away.
Korra knew it was a terrible idea, but she couldn't help it; as Asami took her by the hand and gently guided her away—away from the mess, the shouting, the endless crowds of people—Korra looked up to where she knew Tahno should have been.
Except... he was already gone.
End Note: (This chapter took so long to write, oh my god. :P )
Please, please, please review! :)