Envy was familiar to Asami. Ever since grade school, she dealt with people trying to get close to her for her father's money, for status, or later, when she blossomed into a beautiful, young lady, her looks. And she learned how to handle people who approached her with the intent of taking advantage of those things.
She did not, however, anticipate her fellow classmates at Republic City's finest all girls academy to be envious of something she had no real grasp of: her soul mate. More than once, she caught her classmates staring at her with bitter or longing looks when she gasped as the muscles of her arm spasmed, or when she clutched her rib as if she had a stitch in her side.
They were envious of her connection to her soul mate, no matter how many times Asami assured them it wasn't as great as they all thought it to be. For a while, many of her peers drifted away from her. The Sato family name did little to win any of the girls over when she was labeled the weird girl who sometimes, without a word, left in the middle of class to go to the nurse's office, cradling a part of her body. It wasn't until Asami openly joked about her reactions—"He must've fallen down a flight of stairs!"—that girls began to approach her again.
That was also how she accidentally invented the "Who's my soul mate?" game, and everyone was eager to play. Speculating was the fun part. On sunny days, Asami and a group of girls would sprawl out in the courtyard during lunch or after classes ended, trading descriptions of what their true loves must be like. Asami giggled as she and her acquaintances swooned, hands clasped, eyes heavily lidded, as they threw around romance-novel-worthy phrases like, "rippling abs," or, "luscious, mahogany locks."
Once the group had exhausted their ideas of princes or lords or even plucky but gorgeous street orphans coming into their lives and sweeping them off their feet, they would all turn to Asami, and dream about who she was meant to be with. Because Asami Sato's future husband was going to be important, that much was sure. He would have to be at her side when she took over her father's company, in addition to the burdens he already faced in whatever his dangerous life entailed.
Everyone knew how often Asami felt her soul mate's pain, so her classmates always suggested ridiculous reasons why. Today's lunch hour discussions were no different. "Maybe he's a fighter who doesn't believe in soul mates, so he throws himself into brawls with reckless abandon. He takes the pain, relishes it, because at least he can feel that over the empty nothingness in his heart. Then, one day he'll meet you and fall head over heels and never know another day of pain again," one girl suggested as she wove flowers into Asami's long, black hair.
Asami laughed and flicked away a flower that landed in her lap. "I think you've been reading too many of your mother's books, Joo Dee."
"What do you think he's like, then?" asked another girl, name forgotten, stretched out on the grass beside Asami's crossed legs.
Asami didn't really care for playing the soul mate game, but the girls in her class hung on every word she spoke about her hypothetical other half, and it was the easiest way to make friends in this school, aside from schmoozing other business heirs, so she often spun ridiculous tales as well.
"I like to think he's someone who sticks up for others, the underdogs, because he's an underdog. So he gets in a lot of fights, which is why I feel so much so often. But the pain never lasts long, so he must be a water bender versed in the healing arts."
"I bet he heals cute, injured animals like baby turtle-ducks," the girl in the grass sighed.
Asami giggled. "Yes, and he's probably really strong by now. Muscled and scarred from all that fighting." Okay, so maybe she did enjoy fantasizing a little bit.
"Asami, you're so lucky you feel your soul mate so often. I bet you're gonna meet him really soon and you'll be in love for the rest of your lives," Joo Dee said.
"Yeah, I haven't felt a single thing from my soul mate. He's probably some scaredy cat-deer." Asami reminded herself to learn the girl in the grass's name later.
"It's not as fun as you guys think." She brushed her forearm, which still stung a bit from earlier, almost like her soul mate was suffering a burn. "Sometimes it really hurts. And it can be distracting. Try focusing on an exam when it feels like someone slapped your face or punched you in the stomach."
"But you're so smart anyways," Joo Dee assured Asami.
It was easier to look bashful and shrug rather than argue modesty. It was no secret she was at the top of her class, but there was no point in lording it over everyone, not when she knew what she would do with her life after school.
"So what does your father think about your soul mate?" Zoned out as she was, Asami didn't hear who asked the question.
She bit her lip. While she could talk easily of the subject here, back home in the mansion was another story. Hiroshi Sato had, on more than one occasion, threatened to punish the person responsible for making his daughter wince and ache, whenever they showed up in Asami's life. "He hopes I don't meet my match until I'm forty." This earned her a chorus of laughter.
What she never told these girls, who were generally kind but dreadfully airy at times, was that she hoped, above all else, that her soul mate was thoughtful and would look out for her, not as a protector but as an equal; she wanted to be with someone who would have her back, but still be their own person. She'd seen enough of her father's yes men to know that's not what she wanted. Whenever she verged into serious qualities, though, her classmates lost interest, so she kept these particular desires to herself.
The school bell rang. Lunch hour was over, and the two girls who'd joined her today groaned as they all got up to return to their classroom. "How are we supposed to care about figures and business models when there's handsome men waiting for all of us out there somewhere?" Joo Dee asked, throwing her hands into the sky.
Before she could retort about the importance of their upcoming lectures, Asami felt the stinging in her arm fade. She smiled a little, brushing at her own soft skin. "You're healing. Good."
"Hmm? Didn't catch that, Sato." The other girl spun to look at her.
"Nothing." She bit back her smile, and tried to push aside the image of strong, rough hands wielding a glowing globule of healing water over her own body.
"Really sorry about this," Korra murmured as she ran a bubble of water across the angry patch of skin on her left forearm. "But I'm mastering fire bending right now and burns are kind of unavoidable."
"Avatar Korra, who are you talking to?" her firebender sparring partner asked as he walked over to her.
"Er, no one! Just thinking out loud." She blushed and looked to the ground.
The older man laughed, taking off his sparring helmet before plopping down on the bench beside her. "Sure." He glanced at her arm. "Sorry about that, by the way."
Korra shrugged. "I lost focus. But next time, I'm gonna wipe the floor with you." She smiled and elbowed him in the ribs a little harder than necessary.
The man laughed. "We'll see about that. You're really getting the hang of this, though. I'd say that in a couple weeks, your firebending master will say you're ready to face a couple of us head on." His face smoothed out. "So, were you really, thinking out loud, or…?"
Developing a kind of friendship with her instructors and sparring partners was unavoidable for Korra; she liked to talk about inconsequential things and joke around because everything else in her life was strictly organized. Learn the histories of the past avatars. Master waterbending. Try to find her spiritual connection to the Avatar spirit. Master earthbending. Meditate. Absorb peace tactics. Absorb war tactics. Now, she was in the middle of mastering firebending.
Talking of bending techniques and some of her favorite historical moments she pulled from her studies—in particular Kyoshi's fierce brand of justice was one of Korra's favorite topics—was fun, too. But once Korra was tested on her skills and knowledge, those tenuous relationships she'd built disappeared. Her teachers would be sent away, their jobs done, and she'd never hear from them again. So Korra never talked about anything very personal, knowing that one day her conversation partner would leave.
The man sighed and leaned forward, like he was about to get up and depart. "You don't have to tell me. Just asking."
Korra sighed. Sharing something, even something this silly, could be refreshing, right? And it wasn't like she was telling him her deepest, darkest secret. "It's nothing, really. Sometimes when I get water whipped, take an earth pillar in the chest, or get burned, I feel like I have to apologize to my soul mate." She cringed as the words spilled from her lips; they felt too personal now, out in the open air.
The bench shook as the man laughed beside her and Korra almost sent a fist of flames at him for being mocked, but he waved off whatever look she gave him. "I'm laughing at the idea, not you, Avatar Korra. My wife used to say that people who are destined to be with firebenders are in for a world of pain, because we get burned easily if we lack restraint or control, give in to anger or passion too easily. She also said my job as a punching bag makes her the unluckiest half in the whole soul mate department. But she's wrong; being the Avatar's soul mate, I imagine, is far more painful."
Though his tone was playful, Korra frowned. Not many people subjected themselves to rigorous exercise and relentless sparring on a daily basis, at least not to the degree of the Avatar-In-Training regimen concocted by the White Lotus. She'd felt very little from her soul mate over the years (a sharp pain here, a twinge there) so it hardly seemed fair to subject her other half to constant blows and burns. And this was only training. Who knew what she would face once she became a fully realized Avatar and took on the inevitable threats that came to throw the world out of balance?
"My soul mate is probably going to hate me by the time I meet them." Korra bent the water she'd long since forgotten back into its flask, then groaned into her hands.
A hand squeezed her shoulder. She peered through her fingers, into the amber eyes of the man beside her. "You're the Avatar. I'm sure he will understand."
"Or she," Korra muttered. "I guess you're right. I didn't choose to be the Avatar anymore than he or she chose to be my soul mate."
"Looks like your arm's better. Up for another round?" He stood up and offered a hand up.
Korra grinned and jumped up, ignoring his hand. "You're going to regret that offer. I'm definitely going to wreck you this time around."