Chapter IV – The cut

As the daylight was growing dim, Katara finally got out of her room. She was meant to go prepare dinner—she feared, if she was late coming to the kitchen, that Gran-Gran would do everything on her own. She claimed she could handle everything and sometimes would pull Katara out of the way from cooking dinner and even cleaning and sewing pants. Whatever she said, however, she would turn eighty-two that year, and Katara felt the need to help her as much as she could; in the last few years she'd been gradually taking over the house. But still, it was well known that the old woman was stubborn.

On her way to the kitchen, Katara walked down the dark corridor and almost didn't notice when she paced by a slightly open door. A dim glow crept through the opening and made the only source of light in the corridor. She stopped by, and brought her eyes to the thin crack of the door.

That was her father's war relics room. It had been closed for so many years she had forgotten about its existence. Her father stood in the middle, in front of his blue armor—his beautiful Water Tribe armor, with fur and leather belts and the symbol of the moon painted on the chest—and his hand held something in a steely grip. The silvery blade shined by the firelight as he moved swiftly around the room, fending the air with clean, precise strokes, so nimbly he seemed to flow like water. He got faster and felt even more powerful time after time.

Then she saw him abruptly freeze where he stood, the club dropping from his hand; he fell on his knees. Katara felt wrenched, watching her father hang his head. In that moment, she saw a shadow of the man she used to see every day. Looking so frail, and vulnerable, he was hardly recognisable. That fall, for sure, injured him more deeply than any fire or blade could have done. Katara read on his face that he was aware of everything, as seeing himself from a distance while he was on his knees, hardly breathing from the pain, unable to stand up; and that he was ashamed of that.

She silently gasped as she fought the compelling urge to burst in and rush to his side, to help him up again. But she knew that, now, her presence would hurt him harder. She turned on her heel, reluctantly, and walked away, her face twisted in mixed emotions.

She was a few steps farther when she bumped into her brother, for the second time that day.

"Sokka" she murmured, surprised. For some reason, she was nervous.

He gently moved her out of his way. He was looking straight ahead, and through the darkness, Katara could see an unprecedented turmoil spreading across his features. He said nothing, he just walked past her; she saw him disappear behind the door she had just left behind.

"Sokka." She heard her father's still weary voice resound through the corridor. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you."

Katara's feet were moving before she could realize. She pressed her ear to the door, holding her breath.

"There's no talking, Sokka. You heard what I said. I'm not changing my mind."

"This is not about you, Dad" Sokka said harshly. Katara had never heard him talk like that to anyone, let alone their father. "How can you not understand? You think going over there alone and maybe get-" he hesitated, "get yourself... badly hurt will do any good to our family?"

"You know why I'm doing this", Hakoda said coldly. "I need to go serve my people one last time as I have always done. What you don't understand is you might never-"

"Why do you all keep saying this?" The frustration in Sokka's outburst didn't hide a certain tremor in his voice. "Why do you want to keep me out of this? I'm a grown man, and I was born a warrior. I am seventeen. I can fight! I am fast, I am have good resistance, and-and I can always figure a way out one way or another! I can make it! Why can't you just believe in me?"

Katara heard her Dad sigh, and when he spoke, his tone had softened. "Sokka, listen to me." Another sigh. "Remember when you were six, back in the South Pole, and you wanted to come fight with me? You said the same words you're saying now."

"I wanted to help. I wanted to... prove that I was a man. That I was like you."

"Do you remember what I told you back then?"

Pause. "You said... being a man is being where you're needed the most." Sokka's tone had gotten lower now.

"Yes. And that's what I want you to do now. You must stay here. To protect your sister, once again. Like you always have."

"I know", Sokka said firmly, after a moment's hesitation. "Protecting our family is all I want to do. But—that's why I want you to listen to me. This time it's different. You know I'm ready to take it now. I just want you to trust me."He paused again—Katara was expecting her father to say something, but he didn't. "You have to believe me when I say, never have I known where I was needed the most, as I do now. I cannot stop you, even if I want to; I understand that you need to go, even though it's crazy. But I know I'm not letting you go on your own. My place is fighting beside you, until I can bring you back home safe. For Katara. And Gran-Gran. And even for..."

He didn't finish his phrase. After a few moments of silence, Katara heard her father snort resignedly. A bitter laugh. "I guess I wouldn't stop you if I tried, would I?"

"You can bet on it" Sokka said, with the same smile imprinted in his voice.

"Fine." Hakoda paused, and made a few steps. "I want you to have this one. You will make a better use of it than I would."

His club, Katara thought.

"You mean we will. We'll do this together."

"I'm so proud of you, Sokka."

Katara almost choked when she heard the way those words were spoken. What she had just heard just slipped out of her understanding. How foolish and empty their common sense of honor sounded to her, neither of them willing to stop the other, both purposely heading to the same fate. Maybe, deep inside, she knew they both had their reason she couldn't possibly object; but that didn't mean she would justify them.

Either one of them or both, any solution seemed to lead to the same place.

You might lose them both, a voice echoed in her mind.

Her head was reeling, as refusing to understand, as she walked alone in the darkness, staring blankly ahead.

You will lose them both.

Dinner time was everyone's favourite time in the house. Sea prunes and roasted arctic hen would usually come with cheerful chatter and good spirits, and with the comforting crackling of the fire it truly felt like home.

But that was not the day.

In fact, the dining room was unusually silent that night. Something in the air seemed to crack, like lightning was about to strike in the middle of the table one moment or another. Everyone would stare at their dishes reluctantly, barely picking food with their chopsticks, and Katara could hardly recall a single time when Sokka was lacking appetite. The only audible sounds were the rare, distant thunders rumbling from outside and Gran-Gran's lazy chewing—and suddenly Katara was feeling sickened by it.

She tried to catch her brother's gaze, but he looked down as their eyes met. As for her father—he'd been focused on solely eating his food and not making a sound since they sat at the table.

Lastly, she looked at Gran-Gran, and she found two sad, deep grey eyes glancing back at her for a second, before they turned away.

Katara slammed her cup onto the table abruptly, and the tea almost spilled out. Such a piercing, sudden sound seemed so out of place, almost surreal, resonating in the dense air between them. "You shouldn't have to go!" she shouted.

"Katara" her Gran-Gran reprimended.

"Katara, sit back down-"

"There's plenty of men, ready to fight for this nation, for all four nations! Why can't you understand? How can you do this to us?"

"Katara." This time Hakoda was speaking, and it went unheard.

"And Sokka, too—you would accept to put his life in danger along with yours instead of keeping him from going? He's so young, he's never fought before, and he's not even a bender!"

Sokka got up, his face livid. "This is unfair!"

"Katara," Hakoda said, his voice surprisingly calm "one day you will understand..."

"I don't care! I refuse to understand! This is not right and you know it!" Katara was shouting as she was out of control. Something was flooding her entire body, something she couldn't shake away now. "How—How can you leave us again to fight wars you cannot win? After what happened to mom?" She hesitated, and she looked him dead in the eye. "If you had been with us that day, maybe she would still be here!"

"Enough, Katara!" Sokka yelled.

The words had poured out of her mouth before she could realize what they meant. Suddenly her knees were weak and she felt the urge to sit back down.

"Your mother died protecting the ones she loved." Hakoda's severe figure was now towering over, a terrible, fiery light in his eyes. "She knew exactly what her place was. Just like I know mine. It's time for you to learn what is yours!"

It felt like the ground was crumbling under her feet; for a moment she literally saw her face pale through the reflection on Hakoda's widened eyes. His own features were flooded with pain as soon as he finished speaking. By the time he looked up again, Katara was gone.

She could barely feel the sting of the rain on her skin and clothes, after all that time sitting still under the storm. It had started right when she had burst outside, seeking for clean air, and she hadn't bothered finding a shelter. Wasn't water her element, after all? Instead, she had chosen to sit right in the middle of the garden, crawled into a recess of some wooden totem her Gran-Gran insisted to keep.

At some point, in the vague wandering of her thoughts, she recalled her fine dress, the same she'd been wearing since that morning to meet the matchmaker, the cloth all soaked and the silk stained by the mud. Suddenly that feverish morning seemed so distant.

You will lose them both, the voice reminded her quietly once more.

And there's nothing you can do about it.

She circled her own body with her arms, feeling the cold penetrate her skin for the first time that night.

Sunrise is here soon. There's no time. You can't stop them.

She thought of how easily things could change right after one struggled to get them right again. She recalled the days when the war was coming to an end. She recalled how her father didn't want to return to the Water Tribe. They had settled in the Earth Kingdom, and he told them the weather was nicer there, that business was doing well; but Katara knew none of those were the real reasons. She knew the Poles—even on the other side of the world—brought too many memories back. Good and bad. And, knowingly or not, he just wanted to leave them behind.

Part of her knew being a soldier was her father's true calling. That a honorable death in the ranks of this United Army, the result of a peace he had struggled to contribute to, would have been the best way for him to die. But she couldn't take it. How could he be so selfish and proud? How could he accept Sokka to join him to the war?

She had run out thinking she was hurt by what Hakoda said, but now she realized her own words had wounded her more than her father's. She had thought, once they were spoken, that pouring them out would at least make it better, at some point. But she was wrong. No words could explain how horrible those things sounded as they echoed in her mind, and how hardly she could believe that was her speaking.

Yet, a part of her still wouldn't take them back.

Was she really blaming her father for her mother's death? Was she still unconsciously mad at him? Were her feelings towards him affected by that?

Or was she just blaming the war, and how it had marked their fates permanently?

Katara usually insisted thinking her Dad was tired of the fighting, and seeing death spread everywhere and encircle him like a wildfire. And that maybe was true. But there was his nature—he was bound to protect. Like anyone was told since a young age in the Southern Water Tribe—protect and cherish the ones you love. Men, women, old ones and children, all in a different way, that would be one destiny for everyone.

Maybe it was just her own selfishness, after all. Maybe he and Sokka were right. Maybe she should just accept to stay in her place.

Her eyes widended at the thought that she might be wrong for trying to stop them. That coming back to war was a way for her Dad to make it up to his wife. To erase his guilt and die, maybe, but at peace. Knowing this time he wouldn't be too late.

Would this work, though? Losing people for their courage and selflessness was something she just wouldn't take anymore.

"Katara."

Despite herself, she raised her head. Sokka was standing by the open window.

She said nothing.

"What are you doing?" His words came out in a sort of tired, bitter way.

"I just want to be left alone." She felt sorry immediately after, for the coldness in her tone.

"I see. Well—I just wanted to let you know—we're leaving early in the morning." The tremor in his voice didn't pass unnoticed.

She forced her lips to twitch in a half smile. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yeah. I guess. I'm... ready for bed."

A brief silence followed, as they both stared at the raindrops falling on the ground. "I'll bring him home, Katara" he said suddenly, in a grave, determined tone. "I'll bring both of us home. I promise. I can do this."

"I know."

"Well," he said quietly, after another brief pause, "I need to go now. Are you-are you planning to get in anytime soon? You're going to catch a cold."

"I'm not cold", she smiled as to prove it.

"Sure. Well..." he rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. Katara had hardly ever seen her brother so unsure. "I just wanted to say... take care, okay?"

Katara had to keep smiling, faintly as she did. "I will."

The window closed shut over Sokka's last smile, and silence swallowed her once again. The light in his room had gone off; Gran-Gran's window had been dark for a while. The only source of light left came from her father's chamber. Through the courtains, she glimpsed his silhouette stand against the candlelight. He had unrolled a scroll—his conscription notice, she guessed.

Then, he put it down next to his bed. He sat down, and she saw him bury his face in his hands. He stayed like that for some time, and Katara could swear she saw his large, sturdy shoulders shake once or twice.

She shut her eyes, determined not to see any of that anymore, until she felt the darkness fall more intense around her, telling her he had turned the lights off as well.

The time is over, the voice said. Before daylight, they will be gone.

The time to do something.

So often, as a child, she had wondered why war happened. It was just a stupid concept to her childish logic. At the time, she thought that once she grew up, she would do something about it and change things, because she just couldn't figure out why people kept destroying things if that would make everyone suffer sooner or later.

Now, she knew the point in destruction, and war, and loss, and death, was the same one—they couldn't be stopped. There was nothing one could do but to feel helpless.

She was not fast enough to find help. She could not save her mother.

And just like that, now, she could do nothing but sit there in the rain, and watch them leave.

Her hand flew to the necklace. Your mother died protecting the ones she loved, her father's voice resonated in her head. She knew what her place was...

"… I know mine too", she muttered under her breath.

She had a blurry vision of the last time she had seen her. Just let her go, she said. She had smiled at her. I'll handle this. Never again would Katara see again a human being with such a strong, powerful, faithful courage, a bold smile hiding fear under an unbreakable facade. Katara had trusted her, no matter how scared she was.

Kya, her mother, had never held a weapon. She wasn't a bender either. She had always been the perfect daughter, wife, and mother. Every single time someone would compare her to her mother, she used to feel a light sting inside. Most of all, because she knew she could never even get close to that ideal, no matter how hard she tried; and this Katara had experienced painfully.

But now she saw. Her Mom was never a warrior, but she did fight. She gave her life for her children and died looking her murderer in the eye. She was the bravest person Katara had ever known—and now she realized that even though she was no match for such courage, she could do something similar.

She held the necklace in her fingers and lifted her face, rain streaming down her cheeks. The sting wasn't bothering her anymore. She saw the pieces come together and her doubts vanished.

She could do something.

Her soaked gown was heavy, and it was hard to move fast and not wake her father as he slept. The comforting sounds of thunder and heavy rain helped her as she reached out for the scroll that was resting beside her father. Katara looked at him, an undefinable emotion in her chest. There was no time to write.

She almost reached for the pendant on her neck, but her hand stopped halfway to it. So she just pulled one of her coral pins from her head—her wet hair fell over her face down her shoulders— and placed it gently on the night table, hoping that would be enough to replace any words unsaid. She only looked back once.

She flew downstairs to Hakoda's war room, holding the sleek blade of the club—she had stolen it from Sokka's room and had quickly disappeared, allowing herself just a glance at her brother sleeping. Now she sat before the empty fireplace, her fingers clenched around the handle. Just one cut, Katara, she said to herslef. Straight and neat.

She took a deep breath and her hand moved before hearing any reasons.

She let the blade slide and thick brown curls fell floating to the ground. It was too late to go back. Now her hair reached barely a shoulder lenght. Those long strands of hair, cascading to the bottom of her back since she could remember, were now lying on the pavement. Another goodbye, this time to herself.

She took a deep breath and, eyes still closed, gathered the hair from her forehead back into a wolftail behind the top of her head.

At this point, the armor was waiting, staring down at her from the closet, and Katara stared back with undefined uneasiness.

When she was done, she avoided looking at her own reflection, fearing she wouldn't recognize it. She just tightened every belt and string she could and held her breath, looking straight ahead.

It was time. She rushed to the stables as fast as she could, hushed her father's ostrich-horse, and led it out into the courtyard. Rain hadn't stopped for the whole night, and it fell over her as she stepped out of the wall. Katara allowed herself to look back, and fought the pain in her troath.

She couldn't think twice.

She closed her eyes, jumped on the back of the horse and spurred harder than she wanted to, to disappear in the night in a silver cloud of raindrops.

"Katara!"

Gran-Gran sat up out of breath, eyes wild. She almost fell over from her bed.

"Katara is gone."

She appeared in Sokka's room looking like a ghost, and the boy froze at the sight of her shocked features lit by the lightning, at the sound of her words.

They all searched everywhere around the house, calling her name. Hakoda was the first to burst the front door open, only to fall on his knees under the pouring rain. The coral pin flew out of his fingers.

Sokka rushed to his side. "Dad" he whispered numbly. "I've looked everywhere. She's gone." He sounded like he didn't believe that.

Hakoda kept his head down, and Sokka heard him sob. "She took everything away."

Sokka stared at the courtyard gate. "She can't have gone too far. We can still catch up."

"How are you going to reach her, Sokka?" Hakoda replied, in a monotone voice. "We have no horse. The stall is empty."

Sokka blinked. "We need to stop her," he replied firmly. "We need to do something."

"It will be too late," was the only response.

Sokka got on his feet as though he didn't hear that and started walking resolutely toward the entrance. "I'll go look for her. She might be killed."

A thunder resonated above them. "If you reveal her," Hakoda said suddenly from behind him, "she will be."

Sokka didn't answer this time, but he didn't move either.

Under the shelter of the front porch, another tiny voice whispered, drown out by the pouring rain.

"Keep being strong, my little waterbender." Gran-Gran, however, had no doubts about it.

A/N: So, I'm almost two weeks late. Ugh. I'm sorry about this. fanfiction. net has been off for nearly a week, and then there was this chapter, that was a beast to finish, as I had to partially rewrite the first draft; and I'm still not entirely sure it's just like I wanted. Nevertheless, it's my favourite so far. You might have noticed this was mostly a introspective chapter; I've worked a lot to make it as fluid as I could, so I hope these "meditative" parts are still enjoyable. This is a delicate part where Katara is coming to some important realizations, not only about what she can do—or wants to do, but also about herself; and I valued it was most important to display her inner turmoil, and the steps that gradually lead her to the decision to leave. As I said, this was extremely difficult to achieve. Also so much angst and drama are not easy to handle. But I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did in writing it :)

Also, if you're interested in my art for this fic you can check my tumblr in the next few days. I'm going to post some piece for Chapter 3! See you guys soon (maybe in one or two weeks).

p.s.: Oh, one more thing! As I've said, I'm not a native English speaker. While I was working on this chapter specifically, I had a lot of trouble with finding the correct tense in some phrases. It's one of those things about English I don't entirely understand yet, so I'm sorry if you cringe seeing my mistakes—but please let me know so I can correct anything wrong (and maybe finally learn how to properly use past perfect tense, ugh).