A/N: Apologies to the horrible quality of chapter eight. I know it's an abomination; I wrote the darn thing. I'll be uploading a spruced up version in the near future.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender or Legend of Korra.
Chapter Nine: The Champion's Daughter Part 1
Despite what many people thought, Bolin was not an idiot. A little too optimistic, naïve, goofy and forgiving, he still was not stupid. As far as he was concerned, there was a fine line between foolish optimism and just plain foolish. There were times, however, when he wished he were stupid just to make things simpler.
For instance, the fact that Bolin wasn't an idiot hadn't made is any easier growing up with his older brother. Mako was always very caring and looked out for Bolin even after their younger siblings arrived on the scene but Bolin couldn't say without a certain amount of guilt that he had done the same for Mako.
One thing Bolin always felt sorry about what the fact that he hadn't done more to help his brother when he was being bullied by the village kids. Of course, Bolin had tried a few times. He had picked fights, exchanged curse words not meant for their mothers' ears, and bloodied a few noses but it was all to no avail. In fact, even before Bolin came home one day with a broken arm (no one believed his lie that he had tripped), Mako had made it clear that he didn't want Bolin to stick up for him. It was never a matter of personal pride (although Mako had plenty of that) so much as Mako's dislike of fights in general, especially when it meant his little brother got beaten up at his expense.
So Bolin stopped and not for the reasons he assuaged himself with. Bolin, who loved his family, had nonetheless grown tired of taking punches for a brother who never raised his voice, threw a punch or acted normal. Bolin, who reassured himself in later years that it had been Mako's decision and not his, had grown sick of all the times he had to explain to his friends what his older brother wasn't. Mako liked to read by himself instead of playing kickball but that didn't make him a sociopath; Mako actually enjoyed studying for hours on end but that didn't make him a nerd; Mako was the only kid Firebender in the village but that didn't make him a freak. Bolin was done with it all; Mako could stand up for himself if he chose to and that was that.
Barely two weeks later, Mako did choose to stick up for someone. That someone, though Bolin pretended not to know, was their father. As the only full-fledged Firebender in the entire village, their father was a bit of a celebrity. But the Toh Sa Village was a very old albeit a very small town. Whatever had happened in the end, many of the elderly villagers still believed the Fire Nation to be beneath the lowest form of scum to muck up the earth they stood on. Most unfortunately, several of the village children, most of them friends of Bolin, had grown up in families harboring hatred for the Fire Nation and Firebenders in general. One day, when Bolin had been out grocery shopping with their mother, Mako punched a boy for calling him and his father "Fire Nation scum" and, as Bolin later learned, "genocidal maniacs". The term "genocidal" was unknown to Bolin at the time but it left a sick feeling in the back of his mouth one night when he overheard his parents whispering about it in the kitchen.
"Is that what these people think? That you and our Mako are- are- are murderers?"
"Sweetheart, calm down. They're just kids."
"Kids? It's not just them, dear, it's their families and – who knows? – their neighbors! Our neighbors!"
Time swept this 'incident' under the blissful doormat of the past. In time, the village boys moved out or ran away. Mako and Bolin stayed to see their father leave. Bolin never mentioned it, but on the morning their father left, he saw something he doubted his own mother witnessed. Without realizing, Bolin looked into Mako's tearless eyes, the same shade of molten gold as their departing father's, and saw his older brother's heart break. It was then that Bolin wished more than ever that he was an idiot because he could foresee Mako in the future, crumbling away bit by bit, a boulder turning to dusty sand. Pieces of Mako would wash away on an invisible tide, no longer held together by the one person who both related and cared for him.
Perhaps this – the guilt brought on by years of turning a blind eye to Mako's pain – was the reason Bolin decided to practically bulldoze a path to the circus, bang on the door of someone he barely knew, and accost her while half-accusing, half-raving half-formed thoughts in a half-contained fit of rage. But to his credit, this strategy yielded better results than he could have hoped for. Instead of denying anything, Iriah confessed to everything without effort. She also told him everything; every last detail.
Republic City was built roughly 65 years ago. It was the first ever community to be built with the combined help of all four Nations after the Hundred Year War and thus was much celebrated. First-time visitors were always in awe of the 90-meter statue of Aang, rumored to have been carved by the legendary Blind Bandit herself. The Republic City bridge, a masterpiece of architecture itself, connected the nearest Earth Kingdom mainland and invited all visitors from across the globe. It was a melting pot of cultures, a thick brew of diverse peoples, and of course the birthplace of the enormously popular Pro Bending Games.
Iriah was born and raised within the city. Her parents, a Firebender father and non-bender mother, had moved to the city as newlyweds and were, like many of their neighbors, excited to begin their new life as a family in the glorious city of harmony.
Bolin watched from a few paces back as Iriah walked over to her dresser and opened every single drawer, one after another. Packed into every single drawer was not a single stitch of clothing but stack upon stack of bound newspaper clippings, tattered books, scraps of paper filled with handwriting, and photographs. Iriah pulled a couple of stacks of this and that from each drawer before kicking them shut, her arms piled high with paper. After she dumped her things on her bed, she started untying the twine on the stacks of newspaper and sifting through the pages.
"What is all that?" Bolin couldn't help asking as the entire bed was systematically covered with various articles and pictures. The nearest one to him was actually framed and, though the glass was quite musty, he could make out the photo to be a family portrait of three. Sandwiched between two people who appeared to be her parents was a much younger Iriah, her eyes glinting even in the colorless photo. She was grinning toothily at the camera.
Bolin picked it up without thinking. The man on Iriah's right seemed familiar although he didn't look like anyone Bolin had come across near home. In the picture, Iriah's father was just as lean and dark-haired as his daughter. With his clean-shaven face and neat clothes, Iriah's father seemed handsome standing next to his daughter with his pretty wife. He was a little stooped in the picture in order to fit within the frame but it was evident that he was a very tall man. His physique was that of a fit person, perhaps a bit muscular underneath his coat, but otherwise a healthy father, a paternal arm wrapped around Iriah.
"Who is this man?" Bolin asked, looking up to find that Iriah was thumbing through a thick wad of photos.
Iriah barely glanced at it before answering, "He was my father. You might have seen him before. He used to be rather well-known pro bending champion."
At Iriah's words, a switch clicked in Bolin's memory and he cried out in surprise, "You're father is the Firebender of the champion team Crash?"
The first letter their father had ever sent from Republic City had contained a carefully folded poster of Team Clash, the then reigning champs of pro bending. Bolin recalled how their father had described it to be "by far the most popular form of entertainment in the city".
Satisfied with her neatly arranged photos, Iriah cleared the rest of the materials onto the floor. Turning back to Bolin who was standing, photo clutched in one hand and both eyes staring at it in awe, she smiled ruefully before answering, "First of all, it's Team Clash. Second, he was my father. Was."
Bolin looked up, startled. "Whoa, really? I mean, I'm sorry and everything but I guess that explains a lot."
"Explains what?"
"Well," Bolin waved around the cramped caravan car before replying, "you ran off to be a magician because your awesomely cool Dad disowned you, right?"
This was one of those instances where, in hindsight, Bolin thought he might have been a little too hasty when claiming to be "not stupid". Iriah's composure broke as her face flushed with anger and incredulity at Bolin's absolute demonstration of "not stupid" gone terribly wrong.
"My father, awesomely cool though he was, did not disown me. He was murdered!" Iriah snarled, steam coiling from her nostrils as her eyes pierced him with a look that spoke mountains of potential violence and torture.
Blushing in embarrassment, Bolin recalled – far too late – what Iriah had said earlier about both their father's being killed by the same culprit. He had been too dazed just by the part about his own father's supposed death.
"Sorry! I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to –"
"Oh, shut up," Iriah snapped irritably, raking a hand through her short black hair. She picked several articles from the layer of paper covering her bed and waved it at him. "Here, read it," she instructed him.
Bolin hastily took the proffered newspaper clippings and started scanning it as fast as he could. It was a rather short piece despite the fact that it was about a chilling murder smack-dab in the middle of Republic City. The article, dating back a little over a year ago, recounted the story of man found stabbed to death on the streets in the early hours of the morning by a passing drunk. Hastily squashed in the very last line of the article was the murdered man's first name but, as though the writer had been writing in a drunken stupor of his own, left out all mention of his being a famous pro bender.
"Read the next one," Iriah prompted when Bolin looked up in horror.
The second, third and fourth articles were all about riots occurring on the city streets. In chronological order the articles went from "Protestors' Cry for Equality" to "Violent Rioters Subdued by Police". As the last article was dated two months ago, Bolin assumed that the protests hadn't ceased.
"I don't understand…" Bolin said as he scanned each article. "What do all these protests have anything to do with your dad's murder?"
Iriah stood up, her eye full of fire. Bolin had once seen this look before but couldn't recall whether it was his father's or Mako's. Perhaps it was both.
As for Iriah, her height overshadowing Bolin, the answer to his question was concise yet forceful.
"Everything," she said simply.
One Year Ago
The stadium was enormous. Seats ran a wide oval around the entire place. In the middle was a raised ring where the teams would compete for the championship title, suspended above a pool of water. Once a bender was thrown into the chilly pool, they were out of the match, leaving the other team members to fight on.
Nearly every single seat was packed and exciting chatter surrounded her as Iriah sat, a bag of caramel-coated fire flakes in one hand, a Water Tribe slushie in the other. The seat on her left which was usually occupied by her mother was empty. Despite her mother's enthusiasm for a good pro-bending match, she always found an excuse to be absent when her husband was competing. "What kind of wife encourages her husband to beat the daylights out of a complete stranger?" she once asked.
"LADIES and GENTLEMEEEEN!" the announcer roared. The crowd cheered; Iriah nearly upended her snowcone as she attempted to clap with no hands. "Tonight is our champion match for the title. Please welcome the challenger: TEAM CANNONITE!"
A mixture of ecstatic screaming and booing ensued as three uniformed pro benders entered the arena in the spotlight, waving and pumping fists at their adoring fans. Iriah would have loved to join in on the cheering and booing but her mouth was full of spicy fire flakes and she started to tear up.
"And, tonight's defending champions, give it up for TEAM CLASH!"
As the spotlight trained on three figures, Iriah cheered with the rest, spilling fire flakes everywhere in her enthusiasm as her father, flanked by his teammates, entered the arena, waving up at the stands. Even though she was practically an adult now, Iriah couldn't but act like a hyperactive child high on cactus juice during times like these. She could see her father, a head taller than everyone else and beaming up at her as though he was magnetically attracted to his daughter, a mere speck in a the sea of hyperventilating spectators.
"Each team shall now assume their starting positions… and, when the bell rings, we shall begin!"
There was a tangible tension between the two teams as each pro bender took their place in the arena, two sets of team uniforms, two sets of colored belts marking the bender's respective element, and six pairs of eyes, determined to win the champion title.
Everything seemed to stop, the air became frozen, people held their breaths with their eyes glued to the arena when-
"GOOOOO!" the announcer screamed, the bell clanging in unison.
The match had begun.
A/N: This is going to be a two-part chapter so I'll be uploading the second part later on. Thanks for reading!