Grant Me Not Greed but Sustenance
1.
How hard the mighty do fall.
Nearly all the Triad members wanted by Amon have been methodically collected, and none managed to escape the Equalists' surprise attacks – or their prison.
Mako is proud of his brothers and sisters. The police, he ponders as he enters the roadhouse's makeshift jail, leading today's last prisoner inside, could never have restrained twenty firebenders. Only chi-blockers could manage something of this scale.
The cellar is full of captive Triad benders, most of them out cold. Koyuki re-blocked their main meridians just twenty minutes ago; the metal chains, courtesy of Future Industries, could hold even a metal bender. One or two powerless glares bore into Mako's back. The broad-shouldered man he is pushing along is Saburō no Ryū, from the Agni Kais- an old blister from Mako's smoky, mobster-infested past.
His Equalist mask stands like a wall between Mako's anonymity and Saburō's knowledge of his complicity. His prisoner shuffles forward and sways when Mako halts him. Saburō's useless hands are twitching against the metal clamps where they rest in the small of his back.
Amon questioned the firebender benignly enough, but when he refused to answer, the Lieutenant clouted him on the back of his head. Interrogation completed.
Mako presses on his shoulders to make him sit. The mobster seems not to register any of it, so Mako jostles his tied hands and pulls down until Saburō staggers to his knees. As the man settles back at last, Mako leans in to gag him – but the gag is on fire. Suddenly hot shocks of flame engulf him on both sides like a nightmare and he feels his mask and goggles start to burn. Tearing them off his head, Mako pitches away from the dragon's breath, nose full of the stench of burnt cloth and hair. Saburō grins, panting, ready for another roar. Beside him another captive becomes hysterical -that greasy fool Shady Shin's sleeve has caught fire. All the mobsters in the cellar are suddenly alert.
Saburō could have the whole roadhouse burning in minutes. Everyone in the room knows it.
Damned ash maker, Mako thinks. Evade. Distract. Impair.
He runs right at Saburō, who is taken by surprise and starts spitting fire again. When Mako slaps his face down hard the firebender begins to burn his own lap, and cuts off with a pained cry. Mako grabs the man's hair, holding his head to an angle. Strikes consecutively: the kisha points at the base of his throat, suitotsu in the centre of the larynx, and dta-dta! with more force than strictly necessary, the kankotsu point in the hollows behind his jaw. Saburō gags for a moment but can still breathe. Mako pats out the fire on Shin's sleeve in a hurry, and re-blocks his fire meridians too while he's at it.
Saburō is reeling and regaining breath, fire doused for now. But his yellow-as-crow's-feet eyes have zeroed in on Mako's exposed face. Mako stares back, careful not to show fear.
"Well, boy... how many years has it been? You grown up pretty, Makoto. Thought you woulda been reigned into bein' Bei Fong's bull by now, but I guess you dodged that bullet, huh."
Mako smiles politely.
Saburō's teeth bare. "Does li'l pro-bending Bo know you're Amon's hood? He must be real proud. Having an anti-bender brother must really help him sleep at n-"
Before Mako can punch the mobster's lights out, the firebender has been dealt a hefty blow, snapping his head to the right and leaving him gasping in pain. From the shadows materializes Amon. He turns his chalk-and-lacquer face to Mako, who realizes he has sunk into a low defensive crouch, and straightens. He can't help but swallow as he meets the dark hollows of Amon's gaze. But nothing happens. After a mute moment –the darkness rings like a prayer bowl with the benders' fear of the masked man– Amon departs the prison, soundless as an apparition.
Slowly Mako straightens and meets the eyes of all the captives in the room. Nearly all avert their gaze, and the ones who keep staring? Well, they've just issued an invitation to be chi-blocked left, right and center.
2.
As soon as Mako steps into the empty hall of the Arena later that day, he feels the press upon his shoulders. Fraud – loser – traitor – outsider! Same old song, sung with new verve today. The dark water of the moat sloshes, many feet below, and he remembers the fear of drowning.
"Hey, Mako!"
Shrinking, he fights the urge to run, stiffens, and at last forces back his shoulders. The girl approaching him just reaches his chin. The fourfold bender, all wiry power and cocky grins.
She doesn't know what I am. She would hate me if she did.
"Bolin here?"
"Naw, he's out but he should be back soon. Anything important?"
He shakes his head, ready to turn and flee. She is trying to meet his eyes. When that fails she grabs his hand. The bag rustles. He freezes.
"Do I smell pork dumplings...?" Her voice is hopeful. "You know, it's only greens and tofu on the island.. Tenzin says eating meat will disrupt the compassion of my soul and the afterlife of my ancestors and all that jazz... but honestly, I can smell them, right through the bag, they smell amazing–"
Mako realizes he is eyeing her. The Avatar is talking about food to him. What if one of the brothers or sisters sees me talking to the Avatar, as if we are of the same world? What is my excuse? But she is joking as if they are of the same world, as if this were always so. He might be staring slack-jawed, and grits his teeth in case.
She reads him and lets go. "Sorry! I didn't mean to sound like I was trying to steal your food."
"You were trying to steal it. It's for Bolin though. Not for you."
She grins at him. "Aww come on! How about I pick us up some ramyun next door in exchange for some of those dumplings? I'll get enough for Bolin too."
Of course she can afford the ramyun shop in the most expensive neighborhood of the city, he thinks, suppressing venom. Of course she can. "You're rich," he offers, not a question.
She smiles at him. "Now people know my face, I barely have to carry money. Lots of people want to take care of the Avatar and her friends. It's a sweet deal."
He stares at her. "It isa sweet deal. Have you ever even worked a day in your life?"
"What?" She draws back. "I'm the Avatar."
"So you deserve to be treated like there are diamonds dripping from your fingers?"
"I– everything is my responsibility. Everything that happens between people and, and nature, and the spirit world, is – I'm supposed to save the world when it needs saving."
"And how are you managing so far?"
She draws in on herself a little, her face a reflection of shock and hurt. He suddenly sees her friendship with Bolin, the warmth they must share. She opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it again. "I'm only seventeen, I only just got here..."
A friend of my brother. He will not risk the few hours a week of his brother's affection over antagonizing this overprivileged bender, and there is no point making her suspicious over his principles. Imagine risking the Revelation because he wants to gall the Avatar into reconsidering her reason for being.
"Avatar, forgive me." He sighs.
"Of course. I understand. It's fine! You're right! That's the shitty thing, huh?" She is backing away. "I'm going to do some more uh, training."
He grabs her forearm. It's warm, and thinner by far than his own arms. But the tendon in her wrist cords as she makes a fist. "Let go," she says gently, blue eyes skimming his face. She is confident she can defend herself. She is being gentle for his sake.
He swallows. "I was taking out my frustrations on you. It was unkind of me." He lets go of her arm in a calm motion.
Her eyes brighten just a tiny bit and she looks up at him for a moment longer. "You know, Bolin is a lot nicer than you are."
"I know," Mako agrees. He tacitly offers up the bag of potstickers, feeling like a big brother.
"...come on," she says, and leads him over to the good seats.
3.
Traitor, the Arena whispers.
I stand by the choice I made, he tells it.
4.
Korra likes to think everything in the world will be under her control at some point in time. One of the White Lotuses warned her that the berserker princess Azula of the Fire Nation had said basically the same thing, right before she banished the entire royal court for treason and then tried to murder her own brother the crown prince. Korra had joked in response that as long as there remained good food, no one ever need be killed or banished from her kingdom.
But the control, it's not really there. She knows if the world was a ballroom full of dancers, she would in fact be a pup, hiding in a shoe. Peering out, watching feet whirl on the floor, in and out of sight and just countless; she might grow up to be the Polar bear dog that could herd them like sheep seals – or she might get trampled, when they realize this shoe isn't on a foot that is dancing to the music.
5.
She has left Bolin's big brother in the Arena, on a wooden bench halfway into the seats, with the instructions, "Wait here while I get noodles." She wonders if he'll be there when she gets back. How can he be so still and so restless at the same time? She doesn't understand him. And how can he be so cold, and yet make me feel so sympathetic?
On the surface, her course of action is simple. Disgruntled folks deserve to be treated respectfully by their Avatar. What's the point of having the power to achieve harmony if you don't listen to the complaints? So she will buy him noodles and talk to him about why he doesn't like the Avatar and what she can do to change that. And she is gonna smile for all she is worth at Mako.
Beneath the surface is something simpler than her Avatar policies. She doesn't have to look too close to know. Her ramyun motives are about as pure and holy as the pork dumplings which will hopefully be awaiting her return.
The burnished metal cans of noodle soup are scalding hot and the trip back seems twice as long for it. "Come on, come on, how many more stairs–?" she jabbers, pretending it's firebending training as she rushes up the hall steps with the heat of the metal tiffin tins searing into her hands. She bursts into the Arena at last and for a moment the heat is too much, because he's gone, he didn't wait – until his long figure straightens from behind a row of seats, and he was lying down on the bench and now he's watching her with narrowed eyes as he munches on a dumpling, and she must just look a mess –
Calm down. I'm the girl bringing him salty seaweed ramyun with a side of dragon claws. I'd sure as hell fall in love with me.
She deposits the sealed tins and bamboo-leaf of dragon claws onto the bench between them, and waterbends the spilled moisture away so they can sit without soupy surprises. She catches him staying warily back from the soup as it flies away into the Arena's moat. He reaches for the soup tin nearest but grimaces when his fingers close on the lid. "This is– how did you carry these without the handle? They're burning hot!"
She was planning on being jolly about it, but his yellow eyes aren't impressed, they're exasperated. She feels her smile turn sheepish. "The shop was crazy busy and they had to get the handles from the back, and I didn't want to wait any longer, so."
"Couldn't you have iced the metal or something?"
"I'm a healer, I'll fix them later," she shrugs, hiding a wince as she prizes the lid off her ramyun and wedges open the bamboo wrap of dragon claws. Tenzin's bald skull would turn glossy red at the guilty pleasures she is indulging herself in.
Guilty of meat-eating, guilty of distraction by young men... she looks up and realises how close together they are seated.
Her own skin looks very dark beside his paleness, her palms narrow beside his long square hands. All people are almost exactly the same, be they Water tribe or Fire nation, their blood the exact same color under their different skins. But he is fundamentally different from her, every splinter of his being sung by a different spirit; his color, his culture – and it is unfair that she craves him while he is so dourly unimpressed by her. If she want to be treated as if she's nothing special she can go back to Air Temple Island, Korra reminds herself. Why am I punishing myself by pretending I have a chance with this unrewarding–
The tin lid lifts out of her hands and Mako puts it down on the bench, and takes her hands in his own. Her heart thuds like it might be romantic, but he is doing it with the pragmatic no-nonsense look of a healer... no, a big brother. He rotates her wrists, pressing his fingers on her sore skin. Her fingers do hurt now, when there's no food to distract her. You are not my big brother, she thinks, making a half-hearted move to pull her hands away. But all of a sudden her fingers feel cool, and she straightens her back in surprise. "What just happened?"
"Where?" He looks into the empty Arena as if maybe a Wolfbat played dirty again just now.
"I–" the pain is still there, but throbbing softly now that the burns are cooled.
"Heal it now while the blisters haven't formed yet," he is frowning at the leaky lid of his ramyun, "the soup is still too hot to touch, anyway."
He opens the bag of dumplings and helps himself to dragon claws as she bends a puddle of water all the way up out of the moat and into ten glowing piddles around her fingertips, with a splash on each palm. He has his eyes fixed on the food for the duration of it, dripping and glowing and sloshing, and she wishes he would let her show off.
He doesn't like bending, an insecurity murmurs. Just like an Equalist.
Ha! she thinks. An Equalist and the Avatar, sharing dumplings. An unlikely tale if ever there was one. Next thing you know we'll be building a labyrinth of tunnels, kissing in the dark, dying in a dramatic scene and having a city named after us– The thought is so unexpectedly sad she takes pause.
Mako is courting the fiery wrath of the noodles. His face relaxes as he eats, but when he catches her staring at him, all he says is "not bad," and takes another careful, slurping bite.
"You've been hungry before," she says without thinking.
"Many people in Republic City have been hungry," he responds without inflection.
"How can we fix that?" She asks him. "How can we improve the living conditions in the city?"
"Uh, 'we'?" says Mako.
She hardens. "Yeah, 'we'! If the world was for the Avatar to wreck and fix alone, why would there be any other people?!"
"'Cause you'd get lonely if you didn't have anyone to show off for."
"Mako, tell me straight out what you think." Her fingers are still sensitive as they try to break the unseparated chopsticks. The skin on her finger tips feels a little raw, like she's done too much firebending.
He swipes the sticks out of her hands and deftly snaps them apart. "Why do you think you're the only one trying to improve things in Republic City?"
She accepts the sticks from him and pops a chicken claw in her mouth so she doesn't have to reply yet, and then starts to reply anyway. "You mean–"
"Please don't talk with your mouth full," he interrupts her.
She ignores him. "You mean the Equalists?"
He stills. "Is that what you think I meant?"
She shrugs and looks into her noodles. "But they're too hateful." The broth's surface is dotted with glimmering globes of grease. The soup has separated into semi-transparent layers of color and texture. She swirls it and watches the liquid grow opaque again.
"How do I bring people together when they hate each other so much?"
"Take away what separates them."
"Is that it?" This guy is breaking my heart, she thinks. "You're telling the Avatar to take away bending from the world?" She laughs unhappily. "Then what, you want me to crawl up a mountain and die?"
The lid clangs back on his ramyun as he sighs at her in exasperation. "Avatar Korra– even you have to admit that bending has created a great in–" he blinks, "– a rift, dividing people into strong and weak. It is always the non-benders that pay the price. It is always the benders that abuse the difference."
She listens, trying not to think that he said her name for the very first time in their month-long acquaintance. His intelligent eyes are on her, his chopsticks forgotten. For a moment she wishes everything were different.
"I'm not here to give non-benders a hard time," she says at last. "The power I have is to help people. All people."
"Do you feel like you really can?"
She looks up at him, remembering his harsh jibe from earlier. But now his face is simply curious. As his mouth opens to speak, a door creaks on the opposite side of the Arena, and Mako jerks up at the sound. She knows just like that their moment of confidence has ended. She twists around to see, just as Bolin calls her name into the empty hall. He is followed by a second figure.
"Aw, Bolin, not another fangirl," Mako says, his personality already withdrawing.
She snorts at him, relieved to change the subject. "That's what you thought when you first met me too, huh?"
Instead of replying he slurps up a mouth-full of noodles, and glares at his approaching brother.
6.
(In that unguarded moment, he almost said inequality. What questions might she have asked at such phrasing?)
Korra is smirking at him as he sourly chews his noodles. When he first met her all he saw was the question of her physical existence in the world. How could the universe produce such a division between privilege and suffering? He should hate her, like any good Equalist, for being the frontispiece of bending, born into the cradle of privilege. He should hate her more than any other bender.
But something about her disarms him, and... he can't finish the thought, and goes back to eyeballing Bo.
"Yeah, yeah, you're just a jealous big brother." Korra laughs at him, and maybe she's right on that count.
7.
As Bolin and his friend draw near, the Avatar jumps up, "Hey, Asami!" and hugs the girl with Bolin.
"Aw man, you guys didn't invite me?!" Bolin eyes the food -only half-finished, in fact- and the Avatar offers him the third tin of noodle soup with a radiant smile. "We had a ramyun party without you, guy! But I got you the one with piri-piri and garlic, here."
"Ooh!" Bolin dives right in, making delighted slurping noises. The girl with Bolin has wavy black hair and clear, glamorous features. Her driving leathers look expensive. She smiles at Mako and greets him with a light bow. "You must be Bolin's brother. I'm Asami Satō."
The blessing that is warm food in his belly turns into a swallowed stone. He knows that name. Get out now, chime all his instincts. He stands up, careful not to upset the basket of dumplings, and bows back. "Mako. It's a pleasure." But he can't get his face to smile at all, even a little. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Bo, there are still some potstickers left."
Avoiding the Avatar's blue eyes and his brother's belated "Bro, wait!" he escapes, heart hammering. Once outside the Arena he sticks to the shadowed alleyways.
He is a fool for thinking he could visit Bolin so soon after the Lieutenant warned him. Asami Satō, none less than the daughter of Hiroshi Satō, who is head of Future Industries... and great ally of the Equalists. If his daughter is engaged in the Movement, it means Amon has begun to act. Not only is it a mere matter of time before Satō's girl reports back that Mako was sharing a meal with the Avatar; not only is she a threat to Mako's reputation, but she has made friends with Bolin. Sure as the rainy season, when the first blows fall between the benders and the Equalists, Bo will be stumbling directly into the line of fire.
Going through his options, Mako climbs the sandstone stairs and boards the steam engine at the nearest station. No. He can bring this around to his advantage. Amon will have to believe Mako when he says his time spent with the Avatar was to search for flaws, feel for advantages... his nostrils flare. Winning her trust will pay off in the end.
If Satō's daughter is an Equalist, it means Amon is closing in on the Avatar from several directions. I just need to get Bolin out of the City, somewhere safe. That's all.
8.
The locomotive bears him through Republic City, sunlight flitting in through the high windows in a yellow staccato. Inside the car the shadows are dusky.
The other passengers never look at him, the gangly boy in poor man's clothes. That's fine. This moment of looking out at high stone buildings with azure-tiled roofs and colorful, painted adverts clinging to their sides, it's part of a transient world. The real world will manifest tomorrow, when a Revelation will be made. The first public event and a real blow to the Triads. And he plays a part in it all. He tries to repeat these good things to himself, but anxiety flares again.
I don't realistically have the money to get Bolin out. How will I convince him to leave Satō's girl and his arena, let alone get him out of the city – away from the Avatar and the city's benders?
As he remembers the Lieutenant's weighty voice suggesting Mako might be a traitor, the train swoops into a tunnel heading towards the outskirts. A few of the passengers exclaim when the swaying electrical lamps flicker. He closes his eyes, against both the light and the dark.
Chapter notes:
気舎 - kisha is the set of points at two fingers' distance from the centre of the clavicle. Blocks throat meridians.
水突 - suitotsu is the set of points that are directly beneath a man's adam's apple on both left and right sides. Blocks fire meridians.
完骨 - kankotsu is the set of points located on both sides of the skull, at a finger's separation beneath the bone protrusion one can feel behind the ear. Discombobulates and blocks chi moving to and from the brain.
vegetarianism - in many Buddhist teachings, eating meat will lead to a loss of compassion for the world. Buddhists should avoid killing living things at all costs. Of course there are many, many places where people are Buddhists and also eat meat; note there is always a difference between the dimensions of culture, and religion. Depending on the region, vegetarianism might be enforced, left to the individual, or altogether ignored.
tiffin - metal, two or three-tiered lunch box used in India. Forgive me, reader: I fear the inclusion of the tiffin lunch tins may have felt contrived, perhaps, to suit the plot – but I so greatly appreciate tiffin lunch culture that I wanted them to be a part of the story. They actually have removable handles so you never have to burn yourself carrying them...
ramyun - the Korean word for ramen; the ubiquitous noodles-and-soup that have won hearts and filled bellies the world over. Particularly popular in its instant form.
Potsticker - 餃子 jiaozi (Ch) or gyouza (Jp); a vegetable or meat-filled dumpling. Often served with ramen in Japan.
Dragon claws - at my local yamcha watering hole, dragon claws are the most excellent chicken feet. Not to be confused with chicken drumsticks.
I propose a toast to you, the excellent folks who left your kind opinions for me. Thank you very, very much! If not for you I would not be so very excited to share my blithering on the internet. In case anyone wants to just leave me kudos rather than write anything, this is all being cross-posted to AO3, nudge nudge, ;) ;)