Mako did not believe them at first. When they told him that Sy was responsible for the attacks on his brother and his sister-in-law, he shrugged it off as nothing more than an outlandish theory. He knew his girlfriend better than anyone, he told them. But when Korra and Asami began to explain to him their reasoning, and the mountain of evidence to support it, his confidence began to wane until it dissipated completely into doubt and confusion. He could not comprehend it. He had given her his bed, his friendship and his affection. How could she, the girl who radiated happiness, be such a heartless creature?

"We don't know," Asami said, discouraged. Mako strained in his hospital bed. His arms were suspended in the air above his chest, immobile in his casts. "But Sy isn't like most other people. There's no telling what could be going through her head."

"That doesn't make any sense," Mako groaned, acting out one final plea. "Why would Sy leave me unharmed when she had so many chances to kill me?"

"She was using you for information," Asami explained. "She was using all of us. Everything she did was for her own personal gain. You never mattered to her."

"I can't believe that," Mako said, weak but defiant. "I just… I can't believe it was her."

"None of us thought it would be," Korra interrupted. "I know it's hard for you to understand. You think you know a person, only for them to turn around and stab you in the back. But the evidence doesn't lie. She's the Hanzi Killer."

"Well, what if—"

"No!" Korra snapped, silencing the detective. "No 'what if's. No second guesses. She matches the case perfectly, and the suspect list has run dry. It's her. We know it's her. The only thing we can do is bury it and try to move forward."

Asami shifted nervously in her chair. She wasn't wavering on her deduction, but Korra's outburst rattled her. She knew the Avatar was tired and fed-up. Whether that excused her behavior was another conversation entirely. Luckily, it was a conversation they were able to avoid, as Lin sullenly walked into the room, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Well," she sighed, "the girl is out cold."

"Is she okay?" Mako asked, concerned.

"In short: no. Sy underwent ten hours of surgery to repair the damage to her face. I asked the doctor, and she said that Sy would probably require a couple more over the next few months if she wanted to completely reverse the damage. In the meantime, they gave her something to knock her out and numb the pain. Seeing as how I can't exactly question her when she's unconscious, we'll have to put the case on hold for now, though based on what you've told me, the odds aren't really in her favor."

"We can't just wait around for her to wake up," Korra protested. "There are still people missing. Most of them are kids. There has to be something we can do."

"I'm not a miracle worker," stated Lin. "Unless you're 'spirit trace' nonsense wants to kick back in, we're out of luck. That being said, I do have some good news. Jackdaw is being sent to a maximum security prison inland, where he'll be kept in solitary confinement. The rest of his gang will be spread out to smaller institutions across the continent. Whatever kind of rebellion he was stirring up has died down. Also, Asami, we've charged Shang with grand theft, aggravated assault, and kidnapping. I pulled some strings and managed to push up his trial to next month. He won't be bothering you anymore."

"Thank goodness," Asami smiled. "That's one less headache to worry about."

"As for you, buddy," Lin added, turning to Mako, "I'm giving you six months to rest up, and then I expect you back on the force, good as new. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Mako nodded in approval.

"Good. I'm getting really sick of this hospital."

Korra abruptly stood up and, saying nothing, walked out of the room. The officers' eyes went to Asami, and with a disheartened sigh, the engineer followed her girlfriend out the door and into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, worriedly. Korra refused to meet her gaze.

"I don't… feel right," said Korra.

"You haven't gotten any sleep in two days. Even you need to rest once in a while."

"It's not that." She struggled to put her feelings into words. "Asami, am I… am I a bad person?"

Asami was taken aback. "What? That's ridiculous. Of course, you're not a bad person."

"How do you know? I've always told myself that I use these gifts to help people, but look at what I've done. I tortured a man on the street. I gave Shang a concussion. I kicked Jackdaw's teeth out. Those aren't things that a good person does."

"First off, those guys probably deserved it," Asami reasoned. "And second of all: they were trying to hurt you. You were just defending yourself."

"Except I wasn't" Korra said thoroughly disgusted with herself. "They were beaten. The fight was over, and I hurt them anyway. I attacked them when they were powerless to defend themselves. And worse, I think I actually wanted to hurt them. I wanted to see them suffer for what they did. It's like everything that I've ever learned, about compassion and responsibility, it's like it didn't even matter. All that mattered was how much pain I could cause them. I'm supposed to be better than that. I'm supposed to be more. But I wasn't."

Korra brushed something out of her eye. It was one of the few times Asami ever saw her cry. "What if that's really who I am. What if I'm just a monster who tricked herself into thinking she was something else?"

Instinctively, Asami pulled Korra into a hug, which the Avatar lacked the strength to return. "You're not a monster," she said, comfortingly. "That wasn't the real you. The Korra I know is the compassionate person I've ever met. She would never think those things were true, not even for a moment. You got carried away trying to protect the people you love. That's it. Everything is going to be okay."

Korra did not say a single word. Instead, she forced something into Asami's hand, and backed out of the hug. When Asami gazed down, she was stunned to see a hexagonal ring, carved with the ocean and stars and adorned with a dark blue gemstone.

"Why are you giving me this?" she asked, confused.

Korra spoke softly, her voice broken. Even though she knew the importance of her words, she could not find the ability to make eye contact.

"I… I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Do what?" Asami asked, feeling her heart begin to crack. "The wedding? Or us?"

Korra shrugged. "I don't know. But between everything that happened, and all of the problems everyone is dealing with now, I can't do it. Not a marriage or a relationship. I'm just so tired."

"So… you're dumping me?" Asami said, shocked that the words were leaving her mouth.

"No, no," Korra backtracked. "It's not like that. I don't want this to be the end of anything. I don't love you any less, either. It's that this case has taken a lot out of me. I just think I have to be alone for a little while. I need to find myself so that when you need me, I can fully commit the way I'm supposed to. Like a wife should."

Asami closed the ring in her fist. She held it preciously for a few seconds, then swallowed her pride and shoved the ring into her pocket.

"Find yourself fast," she choked out.

Korra nodded. She flashed a small smile, not one of joy, but of understanding. She gave Asami another tight hug, and pecked her on the cheek before walking down the hall, back to her home. Asami let her gaze linger even after the Avatar turned the corner and disappeared from view. She respected Korra's wishes, even if she did not like them. She decided not to think of it as an end, but the start of something better. Something fresh. Something honest. Something pure. She guessed that was all she could really ask for. She popped back into the room to say goodbye to Mako and Lin, and then headed down her own path towards home. She missed her soft bed. She missed her friends at the mansion. As she hopped in her Satomobile and traveled home under the dark sky and gentle glow of the spirit portal, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. Nostalgia for a time when there wasn't a care in the world, when it was only two young women, hand-in-hand, living their lives together. But it was best not to think of that. Next time, things would be better.

Next time.

Mako didn't get any sleep. The pain prevented him from getting too comfortable, and even so, his mind raced so much that it was impossible for him to relax. Sy was several rooms over; Bolin and Opal were several rooms after that. He had plenty of company, and yet felt utterly alone. The next few months would be like that. As much as he hated to admit it, the Hanzi Killer case gave him more bonus checks than he knew what to do with. The only problem was that there was no one to share it with.

That was, until the woman angrily and unexpectedly burst into his room. Though her dress was fashionable and sleek for the cold winter months ahead, there were only two things that Mako focused on: her skin that was pale as moonlight, and her seething fury.

"You son of a bitch," Serena growled. "You're responsible for this, aren't you?"

Mako babbled in surprise. "Mrs. Kyoriku! Wh-what are you doing here? Visiting hours are—"

"You know damn well what I'm doing here!" she screeched. "They think my daughter is a serial killer. She's trying to recover from a serious assault, and all you people are doing is trying to set her up for a crime she didn't commit."

"Ma'am, you need to calm down," said Mako, struggling to regain his authority. "This has nothing to do with you."

"It has nothing to do with me? I'm her mother! I am not letting my family name be slandered by a bunch of idiotic cops and a load of flimsy, circumstantial evidence."

"Sy's fate isn't up to us," Mako stated. "The law dictates that we let the evidence decide."

"Well, I dictate that you need to do some more research." Serena reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out a long sheet of paper. She held it in front of his face, and forced him to read. In the bright hospital light, he clearly saw a long list of filled-in spaces and scribbly handwriting.

Monty's Shoe and Shirt Parlor Application Form (w/ Interview)

Applicant Name: Hikaru Kyoriku

Age: 19

Prior Occupational Experience: None

Three Words to Describe You: Hardworking, Dedicated, Foot-lover

Mako continued to read, failing to understand the significance. "What is this?"

"Your evidence," Serena explained. She jammed the paper in-between the folds of his cast so that it stood upright on its own, before stomping out of the room. "My daughter isn't the Hanzi Killer, detective. For her sake, you better find out who is."

She slammed the door behind her. Mako went back to the application, reading it all the way through. Even when he finished, he did not get the significance of a random person's job application. But then, a sentence came to him. It was something that he had heard many days ago while he wasn't bothering to listen. He was so focused on his brother at the time that he never even noticed what Sy was saying. Yet, it came to him, blaring loudly in the back of his mind, clear as day.

"So… I applied for a job yesterday. I figure since I'm old enough, I might as well start working. It's a shoe store in the upper district."

Eyes widening with terror, Mako checked the date the application was filled out. In the upper right-hand corner of the page, scribbled in ink, was the barely legible date and time. The application was filled out on a Saturday, at around five thirty in the afternoon. Mako recognized the time. Only sixteen minutes later, his brother's apartment would be blown to smithereens on the opposite side of town. It didn't take long for Mako to piece the information together.

Sy had an alibi.

Asami pulled up to her mansion when the sky was black. Her first order of business was to get some sleep, something she desperately needed. Tomorrow, she would figure out what to do with the rest of her life while she waited for Korra to fix herself. She walked up to the large doors, and knocked twice, waiting patiently with her hands at her side. A minute passed. Then another. Asami knocked on the door again, except this time, the door creaked open, revealing darkness behind it.

Asami cautiously stepped inside. They weren't supposed to leave the door unlocked. "Guys, I'm home! Where is everybody?"

She took another step forward, then felt something splash beneath her feet. She quickly flicked on the lights, and when the grand hall became illuminated, she gaped at the sticky, red substance caught to the bottom of her shoe. It was thick and odorous, and Asami couldn't help but notice the trail of it leading up the stairs, smeared over the carpet and floor. Like a moth to a flame, she followed it, morbidly curious, ever muscle tense. She walked through the blood, leaving behind delicate footprints in the murky fluid, until she traced it to the master bedroom, the same bed in which she hoped to reside. Her hand trembled as she grabbed the doorknob, and pushed inwards.

She clasped her hand over her mouth in horror. Seventeen bloody corpses lied on her bed, thrown into an unorganized pile of decomposing flesh and left with limbs flailing out in every direction. Some had their throats slit in wide gashes; others were torn open in the midsection, letting their organs sip out and glide over the silk sheets of her bed. She could not tell where the body of one ended and another began. The smell of the dead clogged her nose, gagging her, pounding at her skull. Her eyes watered as she saw the faces of her servants, young and old, permanently affixed into screams, their haunting final moments etched forever in time. On the wall above her bed was a single word, painted with the shared blood of those she held dear.

Prideful

Her heart pounded in her ears. She couldn't think straight. She had to get out. She had to tell Korra, or Mako, or Lin, or someone, anyone who would listen. She needed to run, run as fast as possible. Asami was so caught up in the nightmare before her that she failed to notice the footsteps approaching from behind.

Asami turned to leave, and a knife plunged into her stomach. She felt no pain from the intrusion. Her system was too shocked to register anything else. But she was fully aware of the metal as it dug deep into her guts, cutting up her insides. The sharp blade rested several inches inside of her, before quickly pulling out and thrusting in again. The second time, Asami felt everything. The agony tore straight through her body, overtaking every other function, every other feeling. When the knife retracted, she fell to her knees, shaking violently. She felt something lodged in her throat, and when she coughed, blood spurt out of her mouth. She reached towards the attacker, swatting weakly at the air, before collapsing onto her side. She placed a hand onto her stomach, and felt the warm liquid wash over as it left her body. With the last of her strength, she gazed up at the one who brought so much misery into her life, only to find a face she didn't recognize:

A young boy, with dark, shaggy hair and a grey school uniform, brandishing the bloody weapon, as well as a very wide, very ominous smile.

He kneeled by her side, watching the life drain out of her with a sly grin, a grin which he had no control over. He lined up his boot with her temple, and hovered it just above her head.

"So, Asami," he said darkly, "I thought I told you not tell anybody."

Note: New chapters coming in October. Stay tuned.