Significant OCs:
Kiriko and Anisa - age 17
Raniq - age 20
Valen - age [almost] 19

"Kiriko! Mail!"

She wiped the sweat off her face—the autumn chill wasn't nearly enough to prevent it—and abandoned her backyard training session.

"Is it from Raniq?"

"Yep," Asami said as she handed over the letter.

"Sweet."

It was an eagerly awaited response to the letter she'd posted a few days ago, which had consisted of all the exciting developments of the last several weeks. While this wasn't as good as in-person visits, it was the next best thing while she was slammed with school, pro-bending, and now rehearsals.

I laughed so hard when I read your letter. Your sense of humor is ridiculous. And I hope that never changes.

Congrats on the 'growth spurt', hehe. I saw a picture of you and Anisa having a fun night out and didn't even recognize you for a quick second. I imagine you're having to beat the guys off with sticks, now. Like that Lotak guy you mentioned. Hopefully, he's learned his lesson and leaves you alone.

Speaking of guys…I have some exciting news. And please, hear me out before you judge me! I was commiserating with Valen over his recent break-up (I don't know if you'd heard about that, or cared) and, well…somehow we ended up kissing. It was very unexpected.

So, yeah. We're kind of dating now. I think.

Kiriko stopped reading. She was in her room by that point and just collapsed onto the bed. Her mind went completely blank for a few long seconds, but then the words began to burn behind her eyes and burrow deeper.

Valen and Kyori broke up.

Raniq is dating Valen.

Raniq is dating Valen.

It felt like nothing less than an ultimate betrayal, despite the fact that Raniq knew nothing about her feelings for Valen. Kiriko had missed her chance. The window of opportunity had barely cracked open before slamming shut again.

Only morbid curiosity gave her the will to finish reading.

I know you don't really like him that much and I'm sure Shein has nothing but bad things to say about him, but I swear, he's a actually great guy. So sweet and sincere. Nothing too… 'exciting' has happened yet, but you'll be the first to know when it does.

Good luck this weekend with your first match! I wish I could come, but I'm totally swamped right now. But I'll be there next weekend for sure!

It took three days for Kiriko to work herself up to writing and sending a response.

Congrats on the boyfriend thing. I'm happy for you. Don't gross me out too much with gossip after you guys do it.

I'm pretty swamped, too, so sorry this is short. See you next weekend.

For once, she was happy not to have enough time to visit Zaofu. The last thing she wanted to see was them being all coupley together. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to look Raniq in the eye and pretend like everything was okay.

That day arrived far too quickly. Her hands shook while she suited up, nervous about seeing them and anxious about the match. They'd won last weekend, but only because their opponents had been pathetic. Tonight was sure to be a much bigger challenge.

Finally, the knock she'd been dreading came. Raniq poked her head in and grinned. "Hey! Long time no see!"

Kiriko quickly put her helmet on, hoping it would hide her a little, and cringed when Valen appeared in the doorway with a friendly wave.

"Hey, how's it going?" he said to her as Raniq hurried over for a hug. Spirits, why did he have to be so good-looking and friendly and charming? It wasn't fair at all!

"...Good." She automatically hugged Raniq back but couldn't put much feeling into it.

Fortunately, Valen hung back rather than coming all the way into the room. It was because of Shein, she was sure. The tension rippling off of him was palpable. Never had Kiriko seen anyone ignore someone so defiantly. Niwen and Lotak were looking between them and whispering; clearly, they'd noticed, too.

"Are you excited for tonight?" Raniq asked.

"Yeah, sure. A little nervous." Her earlier suspicion proved correct: She couldn't even look at the person who had been her lifelong best friend. In a lower voice, she added. "We're not as good this year. Just can't seem to find that rhythm."

"It's early in the season. I'm sure you'll get there." She gave Kiriko another squeeze. "Well, I just wanted to say hi and wish you luck. We should go find our seats." In barely more than a whisper, she said, "And I have so much to tell you later. So much."

Her mischievous smile told Kiriko all she needed to know about the situation. A short, hollow laugh slipped out. "Congrats."

"Heh. Thanks. We'll talk later."

For the first time since her pro-bending debut, Kiriko lost a match. It was a narrow loss, mostly thanks to a penalty when Shein accidentally slipped over one of the zone lines, but a loss nonetheless.

She didn't even go back to the locker room to change. The thought of talking to the press or any of her friends and family was more than she could bear at the moment.

A back door of the arena, which opened out onto a narrow platform that faced west, was her current destination. From there, small dots of light on Air Temple Island were visible. It was a place of nature and therefore didn't sparkle like the city. Instead, the lights were soft and warm, putting her in mind of a cup of ginger tea and a roaring fireplace.

I wish I was a waterbender. Then I could escape to the island and hide from everyone.

Angry tears finally spilled from her eyes and she took off her helmet to brush them away. Everything was wrong. Her team was wrong. Raniq was wrong. Valen was wrong. The only bright spot in her life right now was dancing. After a brief awkward period of readjusting to a new center of balance, she'd found that her body moved like never before. Graceful and elegant.

Maybe I'll just quit everything else and dance instead. At least I can't lose at that.

But being a faceless nobody in a sea of dancers who all wore the same costume and makeup wasn't nearly enough for her. Being admired only for a colorful spectacle felt empty and hollow. Pro-bending had substance. It was who she was.

But she was no longer undefeated. She was…defeated.

It started raining as she stood there—just a light drizzle with thunder rumbling in the distance. Raindrops streamed from her hair, down her face, and mixed with the tears. It was oddly refreshing. Everything was washed away. Anger and shame and grief were replaced with…simply nothing.

A far-off flash lit up the western horizon for an instant, miles and miles away over the open ocean. Kiriko closed one eye and jabbed two fingers at it, arm outstretched. She thought maybe she finally understood.

Lightning didn't care about her passion. It didn't care if she won or lost, if she was happy or sad, if she lived or died. It simply was . It was a force of nature without judgment or bias.

The thunder reached her ears and rumbled through her bones. A chill swept across her exposed skin and, automatically, she reached for her chi to banish it. Heat rippled. Pulled. Pooled. Ripped like threadbare fabric. It was everywhere, it was nowhere. Her fingertips sizzled and sparked when the rain struck them.

Let go. Let go or you'll die.

The power was intoxicating. Pernicious and capricious—a deadly combo. It was alive but indifferent. Only with a supreme effort of will was Kiriko able to shoot her hand toward the deep gray sky and release what she held.

The deafening sound it made shocked her back to awareness and she stumbled backward against the wall, shaking. So cold. There was no shelter from the rain, which was quickly turning into stinging pellets of hail.

Fire breath was beyond her reach at the moment. She had nothing left in her. But she'd made lightning, after almost a year and a half of failures. All it had taken was for her to lose just about everything she cared about.

The thought, born from physical discomfort and fleeting despair, ricocheted through her mind until it hit a more rational voice that reproached her scornfully.

You have a big family that cares about you. You're healthy and strong. You have more than most. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and go home.

There was a note by Kiriko's door when she woke up the next morning. It was only a folded-up piece of paper with her name written on it, and appeared to have been slid under her door.

The night before, she'd made it home before anyone else and quickly showered before going straight to bed. Her pro-bending gear was left downstairs as a message: 'I'm here. Don't bother me.'

She picked up the letter with trepidation. Was everyone mad at her for disappearing? The handwriting on the outside looked like Raniq's.

I came here with your mom when we couldn't find you at the arena. I hope you're okay, and I understand why you wanted to be alone.

This probably doesn't mean much coming from someone like me who's never competed in anything, but try not to sweat it too much, okay? You're amazing at pro-bending and this doesn't make you any less amazing.

I have to tell you something that probably isn't the best news right now, but I figure it's better for you to find out sooner rather than later. Shein and Valen got into a fight after the match. Like, an actual fight. It was crazy. They're both okay, but Valen kind of got his butt kicked. Personally, I'm just glad he didn't completely lose his cool and lavabend.

Don't ask me who started it or why—I wasn't paying attention, and neither of them will talk about it—but I think it's been a long time coming. Maybe they'll both feel better now that they got it out of their system.

Shein wanted me to tell you that he feels awful about that penalty. He feels like the loss is his fault and he said he'll understand if you kick him off the team. I won't tell you what to do. Personally, I'm kinda pissed at him right now, but at the same time, it couldn't be more obvious that he's doing pro-bending to get his dad's approval, irrational as that may be. So…it's hard not to feel a little bad for him.

Anyway, I hope you're okay and that you'll come for a visit next time you have some free time. Which probably won't be until after New Year's. So I guess I'll just see you next time I'm able to make it to a match. But write me back, okay? You seemed a little off before the match and I'm worried about you. And I miss you!

Love, Raniq

It wasn't at all what Kiriko had been expecting. Valen and Shein got into a fight? What in the world? An image of Valen appeared in her mind, bloodied and bruised, and it made her heart ache. He didn't deserve that. It wasn't his fault that he was a lavabender and Shein wasn't. It wasn't his fault that his parents had moved to Zaofu so Bolin could train him. And it wasn't Bolin's fault, either. A lavabending kid had to be carefully trained so they didn't accidentally kill someone.

Shein was lucky that Valen had learned restraint.

She sat on her bed and chewed her lip. None of it made sense. What was Shein's problem? Just straight-up jealousy? Or was there more to it that she didn't know about?

Kicking him off the team was certainly something that needed to be considered, and not because he'd messed up at the match. His apparent emotional instability was a far bigger problem.

Kiriko let out a brash laugh when she became aware of the thought. Right, compared to me, the super emotionally stable person who had a meltdown last night because we lost and because the guy I like is dating my best friend instead of me.

She shook her head ruefully. Breaking up the team was pointless. It wouldn't improve their chances of winning. Shein just needed a good talking-to, to get his head on straight.

There was something else to consider, and it took several hours to confront it. She got dressed, went down to breakfast like nothing unusual had happened, and finished all her homework before finally allowing herself to think about it.

A choice needed to be made: a shot at the championship…or the Tura Tura? Last year, that choice had been easier because it was literally impossible to do both. Circumstances were different this year, and now she'd bit off more than she could chew. Abandoning the dance felt much worse than simply not auditioning. They would be disappointed in her.

But…freeing up some time would allow for more practicing. Would the others want to devote more days to it? Was winning really more important than everything else?

If I have more free time, I won't have an excuse to avoid Zaofu.

Anisa found her later that afternoon, meditating in the backyard. It was Kiriko's usual cooldown after a training session.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Kiriko cracked one eye open and frowned at being interrupted. "What?"

"That huge thunder crack at the arena last night. Was that you? Mom thinks it was you, but she doesn't want to ask in case it wasn't you and you get more upset."

"Can I have 'angsty Anisa' back? 'Bratty Anisa' is getting on my nerves." But she said it with a smirk to show that she was kidding.

Anisa just stuck her tongue out. "Well? Was it you or not?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Are you lying just to look cool?"

"No. It was really me. It was kind of scary, actually. I was…in a weird mood."

"I'm sure you were." She came closer and sat cross-legged in front of Kiriko. "I feel kinda bad for breaking up the team. I'm sorry you guys lost. It was…hard to watch."

Kiriko arched an eyebrow. "You weren't even there."

"I was at a sports bar. It was on the television."

"Oh."

They were both quiet for a minute.

"Congrats on the lightning thing," Anisa said finally.

"Thanks."

"You wanna go out tonight? I'm going to Club Tachi with Alia, Meng, and Nasuki."

"I dunno…" Kiriko muttered. It sounded like fun, but could she really justify it? "I have rehearsal tomorrow morning."

"So what? No one says you have to get drunk. And you can just stay for a couple hours and leave whenever you get tired."

How could she say no to such a reasonable suggestion? "Well… Alright. Why not?"

"Great! Be ready to go by nine. And wear something sexy, for once. Raid my closet if you need to. Actually, never mind. I'm just gonna pick something out and put it on your bed."

Kiriko sighed when she saw what Anisa wanted her to wear: thick leggings, a tight black mini-skirt, and an equally tight red blouse. But she put it all on and had to admit that it wasn't a bad look at all. Having just showered, she brushed her wet hair until it shone, then put it into its usual braid.

When Anisa appeared at her open door at eight-thirty, she tsk ed and shook her head. "No, no, no . Let your hair down." She vanished, only to reappear a few seconds later with a hair dryer, which she set on the vanity. "Take your shirt off."

"...Why? This is what you picked out."

Anisa was busy rifling through her underwear drawer. "The shirt's not the problem. Spirits, don't you have anything besides sports bras?"

"No."

"Ugh. Come with me."

"Okay…? Can I put my shirt ba–"

"No."

"You are so bossy." But she consented to follow her sister down the hall to their moms' bedroom.

"I'm trying to help you." Anisa went straight to the dresser and started digging through the top drawer. "Ooh, yeah! This one's perfect!" What she pulled out was lace-edged and crimson—the very definition of 'sexy bra'. "I'm pretty sure this will fit you. I know none of mine will. Here. Try it on."

Kiriko took it with a resigned sigh and stepped into the en suite bathroom for a bit of privacy. It did fit, but she felt so… "How am I supposed to dance in this thing? My boobs are gonna be bouncing around everywhere!"

"It's not like you have to dance the Tura Tura like that. A little jiggle never killed anyone."

Once the blouse was buttoned up, Kiriko looked in the mirror and sighed. The buttons strained across her chest, the fabric pulling apart enough to show what was underneath. "Your shirt doesn't fit me that well."

Anisa came in to have a look, then undid the top three buttons. "There! Perfect!"

"Great, now I look like a prostitute."

"No you don't," she said with a dramatic eye roll. "Who knows, maybe you'll actually pick someone up tonight. Wouldn't it be nice to find a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend. Whatever. No judgment."

There was something in her voice that made Kiriko narrow her eyes in suspicion. The remark had been too pointed. " Tui and La . Raniq told you, didn't she?"

"Told me what?" But the question was too innocent and Anisa was avoiding her eyes.

"Don't play with me," Kiriko growled.

"Alright, alright. Fine. But don't be mad at her. She had a tiny slip, just an off-hand comment, and then I kind of interrogated her. She didn't stand a chance."

The betrayal would've hurt more if the secret hadn't been a lie, to begin with. As it was, she felt like maybe they were even now. Or would be, if Raniq wasn't dating Valen. "It's not even true, you know. I don't like girls. I lied to her so she wouldn't be able to figure out who I–"

She clamped her mouth shut but it was too late. Anisa's eyebrows had climbed halfway to her hairline.

"Who you what? Who you like? You like someone? Someone that she knows?!"

"No!" Kiriko said, too loudly. "It was just someone at school and I didn't want her to say something and then have everyone start trying to guess. Anyway, it's old news. I've moved on. Got bigger things to worry about."

Fortunately, it seemed to be enough for Anisa to leave her alone. "Whatever. We're going to be late. I still need to do your hair and makeup."

"I feel so…exposed," Kiriko muttered as Anisa dragged her back to her bedroom.

"Good. You love to show off, don't you? Well, here's your chance. Let the ladies out to play. It's fun, I promise."

"Why are you like this?"

She got no answer. Instead, Anisa pushed her into the chair and started blowdrying her hair, using the brush to give the natural waves more volume. It cascaded around her shoulders, lustrous and thick.

Kiriko didn't usually like wearing it down. It just got everywhere. But she supposed a couple of hours would be alright. Or she could braid it if she got too annoyed.

For the makeup, Anisa dragged her to her own room. "Hm… You don't need much, I don't think. No need for a full face like when we go to fancy parties. You've been blessed with perfect skin, and I hate you for it," she said with a smirk. "Maybe just a little eyeliner so your eyes pop, and some lipstick to match the shirt."

"'Hooker Red'?" Kiriko asked sarcastically when she saw what Anisa had picked up.

"It's called 'Courtesan Crimson', thank you very much."

"Seriously?"

Anisa laughed—and not just a little chuckle, but a real laugh that lit up her eyes. It was nice to see that her happiness wasn't just an act.

"No. If it ever had a name, it got worn off a long time ago. I borrowed it from Mama. It's her favorite shade and looks great on her, so I know it'll look good on you."

When she was done, Kiriko regarded her reflection. She did look good. It was impossible to deny. More than that—she looked older. Much older than seventeen.

If only Valen could see me like this.

She couldn't stop the thought. So many others just like it had shot through her mind without her permission. No matter how many times she told herself that she didn't care, that she needed to forget about him, he would always come back. Smiling. Charming. He'd started growing a neat, trimmed beard, the last time she saw him. It looked good. Rugged. His jawline was perfect for it—

"Kiriko," Anisa said, snapping her fingers in front of Kiriko's face.

"Huh? What?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Umm…?"

"Ugh, forget it. Let's go. I think the cab is here."

As they walked down the stairs, it occurred to Kiriko that maybe Valen could see her like this. All she had to do was run into paparazzi, which wouldn't be hard. Avoiding them was far more difficult.

"We're going out," Anisa said to their moms, who were curled up on the couch watching some old mover. "We're going to Club Tachi with friends from school."

"Alright," Asami said absently. "Have fun. Be careful."

At the last second, Kiriko went back and leaned over the back of the couch. "Hey," she said with a grin. "I made lightning."

Korra smiled back, eyes full of pride. "I heard. Actually, I think everyone in the city heard."

"Heh…"

"I want to hear all about it later, but you go have fun right now." Her gaze dropped to Kiriko's shirt and she furrowed her brows. "Is that my bra?"

"Come on," Anisa complained, grabbing Kiriko's wrist to drag her toward the door. "Bye!"

On the walk between the cab and the club, which was only half a block, no less than three people cat-called them.

"I don't remember this happening before," Kiriko grumbled.

"That's because you usually dress like an old lady."

"I do not!"

"Heh. Okay, okay, fine," Anisa relented. "But you do wear looser stuff usually."

"I wear tight things when I work out or go to practice or rehearsals."

"And I'm sure if you walked down the street like that, you'd get plenty of attention."

That was the end of the conversation because they were at the door now and it was very loud. As she always did, Anisa sauntered right up to the front of the line, which was mostly guys, and flashed a smile. The bouncer glanced between them, nodded, and let them pass after a quick ID check.

They quickly found their friends, who looked like they'd already had a few drinks. And they eagerly went for more when Anisa headed toward the bar. There was a swarm of thirsty patrons there, all clamoring to communicate their drink orders. Kiriko just watched with amusement. What silly lives they had, to be so desperate to get drunk.

The thumping music seemed to lift her up. All the problems in her life felt so trivial and she just wanted to let them go. Her foot tapped to the thrum of the bass and she let her hips sway a little, but didn't throw fully throw herself into the fray until her friends reemerged with their drinks.

People stared at her. In the alternating smoky haze and bright flashes, she caught their glances—some full of lust, others dripping with envy. She didn't care. She wasn't there for anyone but herself. They could look all they wanted but wouldn't get the satisfaction of her attention.

Since that first night out, which had been fun despite the steep consequences, Kiriko had come to love this kind of dancing. It wasn't as cerebral as formal dances or as physically demanding as the Tura Tura. But she loved to move her body, and this required almost no thought. She could close her eyes, immerse herself fully in the music, and let it carry her away from her troubles.

The song changed to a slower one. Smooth and sensual. The lyrics themselves were lost in the crackle of speakers and the din of voices, but she could feel them inside her. They told her how to shift her feet, how to sway and turn—a mental map that her body followed.

"Oooh, Kiriko's doing the sexy dance!" one of her friends said loudly right next to her.

She just smirked but didn't stop. Her natural confidence blossomed and blocked out everything else. The atmosphere had her wrapped up so deliriously that it took her a second to figure out what was going on when a warm body appeared at her back. Initially, she thought it might be one of her friends joking around, but then large hands ran down her waist, hips, and thighs, moving with her. And there was a painfully obvious bulge pressing into her backside.

The shock and panic hit her then, and she slammed her elbow back without even thinking about it.

A barely audible, "Fucking bitch!" was immediately followed by the man reaching for her wrist and jerking her around to face him.

All the long hours of self-defense training kicked in, fueled by adrenaline and instinct. It was over in seconds, with Kiriko still standing, unhurt, while her assailant whimpered on the floor.

She realized then that the music had stopped and the lights were coming up. Everyone had frozen to watch the spectacle, though a few rushed in to help the guy who'd attacked her.

"You— Come with me!" a voice boomed in the quiet.

Kiriko looked up to see a burly security guard glaring at her. He wielded a nightstick threateningly and she swallowed hard. A sideways glance found Anisa, who was paler than she'd ever been. Their friends looked stricken.

Her steps felt so heavy as she followed the security guard to a back room and was pushed into a chair against one wall. He just stood there by the door, arms crossed, and watched her without a word.

What have I done… What have I done…? She could barely remember the fight, if it could even be called that. It was the first real one she'd ever been in. The first time she'd never held back. The first time fear had ever been a factor.

The room was too bright. A single bare lightbulb hummed. High-pitched. Annoying. A fly buzzed and ran into it several times. The minutes passed by with excruciating sluggishness and the only change was when sirens stopped somewhere outside; not long after, the music started up again.

Finally, the door opened. Two police officers walked in and one shot out his metal cable to bind her wrists together.

"Move along," the other said as he grabbed her upper arm to make her stand. "It'll be easier if you cooperate."

They were back among the dancers now and further conversation was impossible. Everyone they passed went still and stared unabashedly.

Where is Anisa?

The question was answered as soon as they made it outside.

"Kiriko!" She ran over and glared at the cops, who didn't pause their march toward their car. "What do you think you're doing?!" she said to them. "Don't you know who we are?!"

"Don't care. Now back up if you don't want to take a visit to Headquarters, too."

That was all Kiriko heard of the conversation because she was shoved into the back seat right before the door slammed shut. When the cops got in the car and started to drive off, she finally found her voice.

"Is this a joke? This has to be a joke… A prank."

"It's not. You're in a lot of trouble. You put that guy in the hospital. And not a scratch on you. I don't know what kind of drugs you're on, but I hope you have a good lawyer. Now I'd advise you to be quiet because anything you say can be used in the case against you. You'll be taken to Headquarters and processed there. You will be allowed one phone call."

The rest of what he said, which sounded like badly performed dialogue in a crime movie, was lost to her.

I'm going to be in so much trouble… I'll be grounded for the rest of my natural life. Can they do that? Even though I'm a legal adult? Will I have to move out to avoid being grounded forever? Will I have to quit pro-bending because I'm a criminal now?

That last thought finally made angry, scared tears leak from her eyes. But they were gone but the time the car stopped and she was pulled out. The imposing stone walls of the police Headquarters loomed over her in judgment. It made her think of something… Something important… But her mind was too chaotic right now. The thought wouldn't stick.

They took her through the lobby, down a hallway, and into a room that had three cells. She was put in the one on the end of the row—empty, but next to another that had three rough-looking men who watched with amused curiosity and leering smiles.

"Wait here for processing," one of the officers said.

As soon as the cell door clanged shut, Kiriko sat on the narrow bench and put her head in her hands. What am I gonna do…? What am I gonna do…?

"What're you in for?" one of the men asked. He and his cellmates laughed when she simply glared back at them.

"Dressed like that, I think we can all guess," another muttered to his companions.

Kiriko ignored them. A glance around the room showed her that the officers who had arrested her were gone, leaving behind another who looked like he hadn't seen any fieldwork in a few years. His uniform strained over a thick belly and had noticeable stains on the front. Clearly, he was in no hurry to get her processed.

Looking at him—watching him sit at a desk with his legs propped up and reading a newspaper—made Kiriko's wits finally catch up with her. The solution was so painfully obvious.

"Hey!" she called. "I want to talk to Captain Mako!"

He looked up and eyed her with scorn. "And I'd like a hot bowl of noodles from Shin Shei's."

"He'll want to see me."

That finally got him off his feet and he lumbered over to her. "Is that so?" he sneered. "I know your type. You think a pretty face and a nice pair of tits can get you whatever you want out of men."

"He's my father, you imbecile," she seethed, gripping the bars until they were hot.

His face immediately went pale, though it rapidly reddened when the men in the other cell burst out laughing. He left the room without another word and Kiriko sat back down with a sigh.

"Hey, I know you," one of the other prisoners said to her. He'd come closer, his lean, wiry body now pressed against the bars. Several gold teeth filled his mouth and he had a tattoo on his face that looked gang-related. "Kiriko Sato." The name dripped from his mouth with an air of appreciation. "I'm a big fan. Or I was. Your team's not as good this year."

"Gee, thanks…"

"No offense intended," he added with a snarky half-smile. It was borderline mocking. "Success comes and goes. You've got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart." He looked her up and down and sucked on his teeth. "You're wasted on pro-bending. You should go into acting or modeling instead–"

"Kiriko!"

She stood up quickly and sighed with relief to see Mako rush over to the cell and unlock it. The second it was open, she attacked him with a grateful hug.

"What happened?! They said you were arrested for assault with a deadly weapon…?"

But she couldn't speak. Mako's comforting presence eroded her fragile composure and the sobs began to work themselves out of her chest.

"Hey…" he said gently, rubbing her back. "It's alright. I'm sure we can get this sorted out."

It was humiliating, standing there crying with an almost certainly judgmental audience, but she couldn't stop. Trying to calm down only made it harder to breathe and the sobs just got stuck in her throat.

Finally, Mako scooped her up like she was a child and carried her elsewhere. It wasn't until he set her down on something soft that she finally opened her eyes. They were in his office. It had been years since she'd been inside it.

Now that they were alone—he was in the process of closing and locking the door— Kiriko was able to calm down a little. She wiped the snot and tears from her face. Mako picked up a box of tissues from his desk and offered it to her before pulling a chair over to sit opposite her.

"When they said someone was in the holding cells claiming to be my daughter, I was sure it would be Anisa," he said with an awkward chuckle.

Kiriko cringed. Would Anisa have gone home to tell their moms? "I can't believe this is happening," she muttered with her head in her hands.

"What did happen? I'm a little fuzzy on the details. I only glanced at the report. I don't believe for a second that you're on drugs. And what 'deadly weapon' were they talking about?"

"I don't know. Me? My hands?" she added with a hollow laugh. "I was at Club Tachi with Anisa and some friends. Some guy came up behind me… He–" It made her sick to think about it. The sensation of his hands running up and down her sides was imprinted on her memory. It made her skin crawl and filled her with a strong urge to shower.

"Did someone touch you?" Mako said in a suddenly low voice.

"He was trying to dance with me, I guess… Ugh. It was awful. He was just there suddenly, with his hands on me, and I panicked. I elbowed him in the stomach. And then–" It was all so hazy and jumbled up. What had happened next? "I can't remember. It happened so fast. He grabbed me, maybe? And I just…reacted. I was scared."

"You don't have anything to worry about, then." His voice was more strained than she'd ever heard it. Jaw tight. A dangerous light in his amber eyes. "It was self-defense. You're allowed to fight back if someone puts their hands on you. I don't know what kind of idiots would arrest a teenage girl for that, but I certainly intend to have a long chat with them."

Kiriko swallowed hard. "Um. I think I really hurt him. Badly."

"Good."

Once Mako assured her that he would take care of everything and that she didn't need to worry, Kiriko felt exhaustion begin to creep in. She lay down on the sofa and fell asleep almost immediately.

A hand shaking her shoulder brought her back. Heavy, puffy eyelids cracked open and it took a minute for her to remember where she was, and why.

"Hey," Asami said, crouched down in front of her. "C'mon. I'll take you home."

"I'm sorry," Kiriko mumbled as she stood on unsteady legs.

"Don't be. Anisa and Mako told me what happened." One arm snaked around Kiriko's waist for support. "I'm proud of you."

"Kiriko, Raniq's on the phone. Don't chat for too long, okay?"

Avoiding Raniq was easy with them living so far apart. Calls between the two cities were expensive, so she didn't usually have to deal with it. Exchanging letters was better; it gave her plenty of time to think of her responses.

She walked over to the phone and stared at it for a second, then picked up the handset with a deep sigh. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Raniq! I took one look at my morning paper, spit out my tea, and ran over to the Beifongs' to use their telephone. What in the world happened? And what were you wearing? I'm assuming Anisa dressed you," she added with a chuckle.

I wonder if Valen saw the picture, too…? "Yeah, she did. And it's a long story…"

"Did you really get arrested?!"

Telling this story over and over again was starting to get really old. "Yeah, but Uncle Mako got me out right after I got there. Some guy got handsy with me at a club and I kinda went berserk."

"Spirits! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, he didn't hurt me."

"I meant emotionally."

"I'm fine. They made me take a drug test before I left headquarters because they figured I must've been hopped up on something. But I wasn't, obviously. Uncle Mako got the criminal charges dropped when the test came back clean, but he said there will probably be a civil case. I guess the guy's family wants a settlement for medical expenses–"

Her voice caught and she shuddered. As the memory of the experience had begun to fade, what the guy had done to her didn't seem that bad in retrospect. Certainly not bad enough for the punishment she had dealt him.

"They said he's got a broken arm, a dislocated shoulder, three broken ribs, and some internal bleeding."

The long silence on the other end of the line was very telling. "Wow," was all Raniq said at first. "Uh. Remind me not to piss you off…"

It was meant to be a joke, Kiriko knew, but she wasn't laughing. How was she supposed to respond to that?

"You're sure you're okay?" Raniq pressed.

"Yeah."

"Alright, well… I won't keep you. I don't want to run up a huge phone bill. But while I've got you, I wanted to let you know I'm planning a little get-together after New Year's to celebrate the end of my apprenticeship. I hope you'll come! I'll mail you the details when I figure them out."

"Okay. Hopefully, I can make it." The words came out monotone and she wondered if Raniq could tell. The experience sounded truly excruciating.

A/N: No, this is not going to turn into childish teenage drama where they force Valen to choose between them. I can't deny that there *will* be teenage drama, but it will be different than that and hopefully less cliche/cringey.