The Legacy of the Headband Chapter 20: Blooms Amidst the Blows
"We raised you better than this!"
"What have we always told you about respecting the authority of your teachers and not letting rogue elements distract you from your studies?"
"Did you even consider what effect this kind of black mark could have on your admission chances at top military academies in a few years?"
Xinlang shrank into his seat as his parents continued to berate him for attending the forbidden dance party the night before. He refused to look them in the eyes, desperately hoping that they would just get to the punishment already so that the matter could be resolved without them asking too many questions. He sent of prayer of thanks to Agni that his parents only thought he had attended the event as a spectator. If they knew he had actually played the scandalous music responsible for the entire affair… if they found out about the Flameos… he didn't know what he would do. As such, he decided that simply nodding and passively accepting his fate was far safer than defending himself. As it was, there was no way of denying his involvement entirely. The entire town was in a fever pitch, and things were quickly spiraling out of control.
On a normal day, Xinlang would have been sitting in his mid-morning engineering class at the moment, learning about different types of metals and their practical applications or calculating the precise amount of force in kilograms per cubic meter and angles needed to accurately launch a flaming projectile from a standard issue trebuchet mounted on an empire class Fire Nation battleship towards a target 300 meters away moving in the opposite direction at approximately 26 knots per hour. But with Kuzon and Hide's girlfriend on the run, the Headmaster had decided to close school for the day and had released a legion of messenger hawks to inform every single middle school parent in town that his/her child had been personally involved in last night's depravity now known to the entire community thanks to some journalist who'd gotten wind of the story and whipped up an article for the morning dailies in the wee hours of the night.
It was obvious that the school had no idea exactly who was involved, aside from the principal players, and so they had decided to blame everyone rather than let an attendee walk unscathed. Besides Hide who had obviously not been a part of it because he'd snitched on them, there must have been other kids who had been sick, or busy, or had simply not heard about the party. Xinlang felt a stab of guilt that some of his perfectly innocent classmates might be receiving a similar lecture from their parents right now for something that he'd been a part of. Yet there was nothing he could do about that. All he could hope was that whatever punishment his parents concocted wasn't too horrible.
His father finally stopped barraging him with questions and breathed a heavy sigh. "Perhaps some of this our fault. We have been far too lenient in indulging your uncanny enthusiasm for music when you should be more focused on pursuits that will actually prove valuable to your future career. Don't think I haven't heard you playing in your room one too many times after you think we are asleep. I will write to Mr. Shou and ask him to keep your Sunghi horn locked in his office. From now on, you will only play during your required music classes and only what Mr. Shou tells you to. I think your grades are sufficient enough that you can forgo your afterschool tutoring for now. Instead, you will be enrolled in in the Spark Corps. A few years of solid disciplined work and no academy will even notice this unfortunate blemish on your record."
Xinlang sputtered incoherently. No! They couldn't take his Sunghi horn away from him. Music, the Flameos… it was the only thing that made him happy. He couldn't even sleep at night without cradling his horn against his chest. And even worse… the Spark Corps? The Spark Corps was a brutally combative training regime for ambitious, athletic young firebenders who had high ambitions for a career in the military. Sparkers trained five days a week after classes, in sun, wind, and rain. Only students aged 14 or older were eligible to participate. And, Xinlang realized with horror, he was turning fourteen in just five days. Which meant that he had no way to weasel his way out of it. Feeling dizzy as his dreams of future happiness slipped away, Xinlang saw red.
"No, Dad. I don't want to join the Spark Corps! And I won't give up my Sunghi horn. I don't… I don't want to be a soldier. I want to be a musician!"
Smack! Xinlang staggered on the floor as tears sprung to his eyes, unable to believe that his father had just struck him across the face. His mother's lips were turned down and quivering, and his father's whole head was flushed red with rage.
"You ungrateful little cretin! We have given you every opportunity you could possibly want and yet you see fit to throw it all away? No son of mine is going to make a living as some queer little brass blower. As long as you're under our roof, you will lead a respectable life and that means you will follow in my footsteps and learn to fight for your nation like a real man!"
His father lunged for the Sunghi horn lying in Xinlang's lap. Panicking, Xinlang threw his hands out of in front of him and unexpectedly sent a blast of fire directly towards his father's face. Completely caught off guard, his father fell to the ground, howling in pain.
"Xinlang!"
His mother's cry fell on deaf ears. Horrified and flooded with adrenalin-fueled fight or flight instincts, Xinlang chose the latter in an instant. Hefting his Sunghi horn over his shoulder, he ran blindly from the room and out the front door, down the street, not stopping until he reached the forest clearing where he had spent so many afternoons playing in secret. Luckily, he lived on the outskirts of town, and thus didn't run into any guards or other onlookers in his haste to get away.
Sinking the ground and gasping for breath, Xinlang finally allowed himself to burst into fierce sobs. What had he just done? Not only had he stood up to his father after years of fear, but he had attacked him and possibly burned his face! He couldn't… he couldn't go home. He was alone, and he had nothing but his beloved instrument. Desperately, he adjusted the position of the mouthpiece and began to play, hoping that the familiar rhythm would calm him enough to allow him to form some sort of plan.
The notes that passed his throat and fingers were slow, mellow, and haunting. Closing his eyes, Xinlang lost himself in the melody until a snapping twig branch pricked at his ears, conditioned in their alertness. Leaping to his feet and whirling around, Xinlang prepared to run, fearing the worst. But neither his father nor a school guard emerged from the trees. It was Qingzuo.
"Xinlang! I heard someone playing a few meters back and knew it was you. Spirits, you don't look so good. What happened to you?"
Xinlang slumped to the ground again. His voice cracked and came out all choked. "It was my dad. He… tried to take me Sunghi horn away. And then I… oh Agni, I did something really bad. Like… really bad. I can't… I can't go home. Not today. Not ever."
Embarrassed to feel tears pricking at his eyes again, Xinlang turned away and wiped his cheeks furiously. Then, suddenly, impossibly, Qingzuo was sitting right next to him, and his arms were coming around him in a tight hug. Xinlang was so shocked that he nearly fell over onto his side. This was the second time Qingzuo had hugged him in just two days, and for that matter, it was the second time ever. Unused to physical affection, but craving it with a ferocity that stunned him, Xinlang leaned into the embrace and buried his face into Qingzuo's collar, breathing in the slightly smoky smell of his uniform and some other pleasant scent that he couldn't identify.
"Shh… hey, listen to me. It's going to be okay, alright? My own dad just paddled me hard, but I know he'll be over it in a few days. That's just how parents are, you know? Whatever you did, they'll forgive you and move on."
Xinlang sighed against Qingzuo's chest. His heart was thumping very loudly in his ears. "You don't know my dad. I always knew that he wanted me to join the military, but I didn't realize how determined he was to make it happen. He's making me sign up for the Spark Corps."
Qingzuo gasped and pulled back to look Xinlang in the eyes. Xinlang found himself immediately missing the close contact. "The Spark Corps? That crazy fighting club that Hide's always bragging about? But doesn't that meet every day after school?"
Xinlang nodded miserably. "Yeah, and he wants to get Mr. Shou to lock up my Sunghi horn. So, I'll never be able to play with you guys again. When he told me, I just… lost control. I burned him, Qingzuo. It was terrible! I don't want to hurt anybody, not even him! That's why I ran. And that's why I can't go home. He'll kill me. He really will. And I'm scared of what I might do if he tries."
Qingzuo just shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe it. You attacked your own father? Do you have any idea how messed up that is?"
Xinlang flinched, hurt. "Are you really taking his side? He struck me first and tried to take away the only thing in the world that makes me happy- playing music with you! Even if I could, I don't want to go back. Don't you get it? I couldn't let him take this away from me. I couldn't let him take you away from me."
Both boys were breathing hard in the exertion of their argument and the roiling emotions in the air. Qingzuo just stared at him, unblinking, for what felt like an eternity. And then suddenly, his hands were reaching out to grab Xinlang's shoulders and his lips were crashing against Xinlang's and Xinlang was kissing him back, astonished and overwhelmed and relieved because finally, finally, all of the years of confused thoughts and stolen glances and embarrassing dreams made sense and all he wanted to do was bask in the warm tingles spreading all over his body. But all too quickly, it was over and Qingzuo was wrenching himself backwards, scooting away as though he had been burned. Instinctively, Xinlang reached out to him, wanting nothing more than to forget everything that was going on and just kiss the friend he had adored for months, but Qingzuo hurriedly got to his feet and began to back away jerkily, his eyes full of fear.
"Qingzuo…"
Qingzuo shook his head fervently and held out his hand. "This… this never happened, okay? I'm not… I'm not a hotman. And neither are you, of course. It's all that weird stuff Kuzon said yesterday that got into our heads. That's all. I… I gotta go. My parents are probably wondering where I am. Listen, some of the kids are meeting at the cave tonight after sundown. Until then, you should probably stay out of sight. It won't look good for any of us to be seen with a fatherburner."
With that, Qingzuo immediately turned around and fled the clearing, leaving Xinlang sitting in the middle with nothing but his Sunghi horn and speechless heartbreak for company.
By early afternoon, most of the middle school students had received some sort of punishment from their parents. Some, like Qingzuo, had been given an old fashioned beating. Others, like Urdu, had been committed to a tedious month of gardening chores. But Senyo's punishment was perhaps the strangest of all. Quite simply, it wasn't a punishment.
As soon as she had gotten home, her mother had dragged her into the dank stables behind the house where they raised chickens and pigs. Baffled and apprehensive, Senyo had gone along with it, bracing herself for whatever her mother had to dish out. Her parents had never beaten her before, and Senyo really hoped that this wouldn't be the first time. But when her mother turned to face her, it was not a fist but a hug that awaited her.
"I'm so proud of you."
"What?" Senyo's eyes blew wide in her mother's arms. Her mother was proud that she had attended a forbidden party and lied about it? That made no sense.
Her mother drew back and looked her right in the eyes, a soft smile emerging on her face. "Listen to me, Senyo. I want you to know that I am proud that you learned how to dance last night. Dancing is a sacred Fire Nation tradition. It's unfortunate that you were discovered, but it thrills me that what you're learning at school hasn't destroyed your desire to resist. And how wonderful that the young man who hosted this gathering was able to escape. His parents must have made him a Flower. Granted, you're all far too young for any of this, but under the circumstances, I think it's time. I'm sorry that your father and I have been dishonest with you, but we couldn't risk you exposing us before you were old enough to understand. I hope you'll forgive us someday for being so strict with you."
Head spinning, Senyo searched her mother's face for some kind of explanation of this incredibly odd conversation. "Mom? What in Agni's name are you talking about?"
Reaching into her inner robes, her mother retrieved something and pressed it into Senyo's hand, closing her fingers around it. "Senyo Hua, it is time that you learned a family secret that has been carefully guarded for over one hundred years." Senyo carefully unfurled her fingers and stared at the object in her hand.
It was a White Lotus pai sho tile.