Minor OCs who are briefly mentioned:
Kian - Wei's wife
Hunir - Wei and Kian's oldest child; Kyori's older brother
Sonam - Opal and Bolin's second child
Jinrai - it's a secret :)
Toph - Opal and Bolin's third child

Kiriko is currently eighteen and Raniq is twenty-one.

Kiriko stayed in Zaofu for a week. Mostly, she spent her time reminding Raniq to eat and sleep, though there was also quite a lot of bumming around the Beifong's house. Raniq wanted to keep busy at work and it was impossible to talk her out of it.

Lin, who lived in a private suite on one side of the house, surfaced on occasion, though she seemed to prefer solitude. It was in the late evening hours, after the younger family members had gone to bed, that she was most likely to be spotted.

She used her wheelchair exclusively now; age had caught up with her—much more so than Suyin, who still glided around gracefully, if a little slower than the kids.

Kiriko was wandering around late one night, unable to sleep, when she found Lin in the kitchen reaching for something in a cabinet. Or trying to, anyway. She had a long-armed metal grabber but seemed to be having trouble with it.

"Er… Do you want me to get that?" Kiriko asked with some reluctance, well aware of how much Lin hated needing help with such things.

"Nope."

Kiriko decided to just lean against the wall and wait. Her youthful reverence for Lin had long since been tempered into calm respect, and it seemed to be somewhat mutual. Lin at least appeared to enjoy her company more than that of most people.

After a few more tries, the grabber snagged the bag of rice she was after, and she got to work fixing herself something to eat.

"What are you making?" Kiriko asked while she rummaged through the cupboards for her own midnight snack.

"Stir fry."

"I didn't know you could cook."

"I lived alone for a long time, kid. I may not be a master chef, but I can fend for myself just fine. Anyway, it's better than not sleeping."

Lin was probably the only person who could call her 'kid' without it sounding condescending. Over the years, Kiriko had come to understand that the word was very nearly a term of endearment coming from Lin.

"Yeah, I can't sleep, either."

"Can you cook?"

It was such an unexpected question from someone who rarely invited conversation.

"Uh, not really… Neither of my moms can–" Kiriko stopped and swallowed hard. Can? Could? Tenses were weird now. The words felt wrong no matter which way she said them. "They both grew up having other people cook for them and their lives have always been so busy that there was no time for it. Mom—Asami—does cook sometimes, but she's not very good at it. I never asked to learn because I didn't see the point."

"Oh? Are you going to live at your childhood home with a chef forever?" There was a hint of snarkiness in her voice. Then again, there usually was so it didn't mean much.

"I don't know… Maybe. I used to think I'd get my own place eventually, or share a place with Anisa, but now… I dunno. I don't want to live alone. And I don't want Mom to be alone."

Grief was an odd thing. Some days, the most insignificant thought would set her off. Right now, there was just a dull ache in her chest and a burning behind her eyes. Her words came out monotone, like her mouth was afraid that putting any emotion behind them would hurt too much.

Lin nodded and continued on about her business. She'd already found measuring cups, a pot, and a wok. It looked like a common routine for her.

"You need two parts water to one part rice. The rice should be rinsed first so it's not too sticky."

Kiriko blinked a couple of times before she realized that the comment was meant to initiate a lesson, at which point she listened and watched attentively. It felt like a gift.

"Cut up those vegetables into small pieces. It's a pain in the ass for me to do it in my chair."

Okay… How hard can it be?

The answer was 'harder than she thought'. Not difficult exactly, but tedious and less intuitive than expected.

"Cut off the top of the pepper first, then take the seeds out," Lin advised after Kiriko mangled the first one. "And then slice it into rings."

"Oh. That makes more sense. Who taught you all this stuff, anyway? From what I know of your mom, she didn't seem like the cooking type."

Lin snorted. "You're not wrong. It was either eat takeout every night or learn to cook, so I asked Katara to teach me the basics."

It wasn't hard to envision that old crew—Avatar Aang and his friends—all raising their kids together and being like a little family. Maybe it was always that way with Avatars and the people closest to them.

"I bet you spent a lot of time on Air Temple Island as a kid," Kiriko said. "I know I did."

"Mm. It's a safe place for busy people to dump their kids for a few hours. Or a few days." Lin started rummaging through the fridge. "I'm sure the chef said there was some leftover shrimp in here… Ah, here it is. The oil should be hot enough by now. Throw the veggies in the wok and stir them around."

Kiriko found this to be strangely relaxing. Lin wasn't the most patient teacher, but she seemed to be in a relatively good mood. Tentative questions about her life were actually answered, for once; the task of cooking took long enough that she couldn't simply deflect and walk away. But more than that, Kiriko could've sworn she was actually enjoying the conversation.

When the meal was ready, they sat at a small table in the corner of the kitchen. It only had one chair and wasn't anything like a proper dining table, but with Lin in her wheelchair, the setup worked out fine.

"Hey, this is pretty good," Kiriko said approvingly.

"You sound surprised."

"Well, I've never helped cook anything before. And I'm usually not any good at things until I practice a lot."

She appreciated Lin not saying something like, 'All you did was cut up vegetables and stir a little.' Instead, they both ate in silence for a little while.

"You've asked me a lot of personal questions tonight," Lin finally said. "Now I've got one for you."

"Okay…?"

"I've always wondered how you girls—you and Anisa—feel about your…unique parental situation."

Kiriko shrugged. "It's all I've ever known. It's just…normal to me."

"Did you ever resent Mako for being on the sidelines of your life?"

It was an unexpectedly blunt question, but she supposed she should've expected something like that from Lin. "No…" Kiriko said slowly, trying to figure out exactly how to explain it. "He's my father, but he's not my dad. If that makes sense."

"And not having a dad never bothered you?"

"Maybe there were a couple of times when I was younger, when I didn't understand. But my moms always explained things whenever I asked."

Lin grunted. "Imagine that," she muttered under her breath.

Kiriko frowned, confused by the sudden mood shift. "Has he ever said anything to you about it? Does he…wish things had been different?"

"Oh, he talks about you two constantly. At least the first thirty minutes of every conversation we've had in the last twenty years have been about you and Anisa."

"Twenty years? We're only eighteen…"

"Yeah, well, he yammered on about you before you were born, too. Before you were conceived, even. He agonized for weeks over whether or not to agree to Korra and Asami's request."

Kiriko winced. "Agonized…?"

"It was a big deal for him. He's like me. Never was a 'family man'. Never looking to settle down and procreate. Too much responsibility, he always said. The thought of being a parent was too daunting, especially with his career. It was something we bonded over, through the years. And after I told him about my own childhood, he was even more reluctant. The last thing he wanted was to bring kids into the world and then fail to give them enough attention. And I think, to this day, he still wonders if he did right by you two."

The fresh perspective disturbed Kiriko a little. She was finally beginning to understand that this line of questioning was likely rooted in Lin's own experience with not having a dad. But more importantly, she had never realized that Mako might have those concerns.

"He did fine," she said weakly. "When I was little, I sometimes wished he lived with us, but my moms told me three parents in one house would be chaos. When I got a little older, I took that to mean that they didn't want to manage three-way co-parenting, and that he was content to have a smaller role. I never got the sense there was any tension or disagreement. But I dunno… Maybe I was just a naive kid."

"No, you're right. They hammered out the details before you existed, and every party involved was happy with the arrangement. But Mako is a worrier. Always has been."

"Worried about what? Whether or not Anisa and I were happy? Because we were. I hope he knows that. He's never let me down."

"Maybe you should tell him some time."

On the first day of the new year, about halfway through her week-long visit at the Beifong house, Kiriko was watching television in her room—cross-legged at the foot of the bed with a bowl of snacks—when an unexpected visitor stopped by.

"What are you watching?" Jojin asked from the open door.

"Oh, just some dumb game show. They ask people questions and give them prizes if they get it right. But they make them run through an obstacle course if they get it wrong."

He took a few steps inside and watched for a minute or so. It was incredibly awkward. Despite having developed something of a rapport in the last couple of months, they'd barely spoken ten words to each other since Kiriko had been there this time. She didn't have a clue what to say to him. What words of comfort could possibly help?

"How's Mara doing?"

"Sleeping. I'm–"

She looked over when he cut off. "What?"

"I… I wish she wanted to go see Sapphire more."

That hurt to hear. Perhaps it was the hole in her own heart making her see this situation through a certain lens, but she could only think of that tiny baby lying there without its mother.

Kiriko patted the mattress next to her—a silent invitation. After a brief hesitation, Jojin came over and perched on the edge of the bed. She offered the bowl and he took a small handful of the somewhat non-traditional mix of snacks she'd concocted.

"Do you want me to take you to see her?" she asked him.

"No… I can't leave Mara."

"Su will take care of her. Seems like you and Mara have really bonded with her."

"She's real nice. I like her. Mara does too, but…she'll be upset if I'm gone when she wakes up."

As if on cue, a shrill voice called out. "Jojin?"

"I better go," he said with a sigh.

What a burden this kid carried. Kiriko found her appetite entirely gone as she watched him walk away. He loved Mara to his own detriment. His consideration for her was keeping him away from his daughter, whose fragile existence could fade away at any moment.

A surge of indignation flooded through her. How could Mara do that to him? How could she make him choose like that? For that matter, how could she lie around all day while her child's life hung by a thread?

Kiriko had to get up and stalk through the house to relieve some of the restless energy. Her pacing took her out to one of the gardens, where Opal was practicing airbending forms.

"What's on your mind?" she said when Kiriko was in earshot. "You seem agitated."

"Nothing… I just kind of hate everything right now."

"Why don't you join me? I find working up a good sweat helps."

They went through several forms and sparred a little, though half-heartedly. Kiriko recognized a familiar flair to some of her movements and couldn't help but comment on it, desperate to make the connection even if it was just her imagination.

But Opal gave her a knowing smile. "You have a good eye. Korra was my first airbending teacher, back when she was still new to it, as well."

"Really?"

"Yep. And she's the one who convinced my mom to let me leave Zaofu and study under Tenzin as an air nomad. I was only fifteen at the time and she was a little reluctant to let me off the apron strings, so to speak."

Opal had always existed on the periphery of Kiriko's life. She was just…there—one of the many pseudo-parental figures, just like Mako and Bolin and Wei and Kian. Kiriko felt comfortable around her, but they'd never been especially close. Never had deep talks as fellow adults.

"You didn't like being an air nomad?" she asked. "That's why you came back to live here?"

"Not exactly," Opal said with a light laugh. "It's true that the lifestyle was a bit of a shock after having grown up here, but I came to love the simplicity of it. Bolin taught me that. We wanted our children to experience more…humble beginnings than Zaofu offered."

"But?"

"But life isn't a fantasy. Things don't always happen how you imagine them. I came here to have Shein—to have high-quality medical care and be surrounded by family. And I realized life with a newborn was much harder than I thought it would be," she added with a crooked smile.

"The weeks became months. I got comfortable. Remembered how much I missed having someone else cook for me and do my laundry, and how nice it was to sleep on a soft mattress. More importantly, I realized how much I'd missed my family. Shein and Hunir were so close in age and I thought it would be so nice for them to grow up together. And Jinrai, of course, though I quickly changed my mind about that…"

Kiriko winced. It was a terribly uncomfortable topic and she was surprised Opal had even mentioned him. Years had passed since his name had come up in conversation. She'd only been eight when he ran away at age twelve, following a very suspicious fire.

"And Varrick often brought Raniq along whenever he came here," Opal continued. "The extended family was growing and the kids were coming quickly. Cheli, you and Anisa, Kyori, Nik. By the time Sonam was born, I'd long since given up on being an air nomad."

"Do you miss it?"

"Mm, sometimes. But I don't have any big regrets."

"What about small ones?" Kiriko asked.

Opal just laughed. "Everyone has small regrets. It's just a part of life."

It was impossible not to think of Mara and Jojin. Kiriko was willing to bet they had some regrets, but what did you do when every option available to you was terrible? Or when your limited choices were the result of someone else's mistakes?

If Sapphire died, would Mara regret avoiding her? Would Jojin regret staying by Mara's side instead? Would he resent her?

"I think I'm gonna see how Raniq is doing," Kiriko said abruptly.

Unsurprisingly, Raniq was in the NICU. She was writing something down on a chart but paused a moment to reach in through one of the incubator's access holes and gently stroke Sapphire's tiny leg.

Kiriko tapped on the window to get her attention, and they met up at the door.

"How's she doing today?"

"Good!" Raniq said, her voice more cheerful than it had been in a while. "Her oxygen levels dipped overnight, but they're back up and stronger than before. And her muscle reflexes are really encouraging. But best of all—she hit a milestone today. She's officially gained half a pound since she was born!"

"Is that a lot?"

"Well, considering that she wasn't quite two pounds when she was born twelve days ago… Yeah. It's pretty significant." Her eyes twinkled with hope. "You want to see her?"

Kiriko glanced up and looked through the window. It was a bit sad to see that all the attending nurses were focused on other things, other babies. Sapphire was all alone. "Sure… Why not."

"Okay! Just wash up over here. I'll get a gown for you to put on over your clothes."

It was quieter inside than Kiriko expected it to be. There were no crying babies. The only sounds were the faint whir and beeping of machines and the hum of air vents near the ceiling. No one spoke. The nurses shuffled around softly and carefully.

She swallowed hard when they reached Sapphire's incubator. A ventilator mask covered most of her tiny face. Various tubes were stuck in her nose and neck and legs. Wires and electrodes. A cuff on her upper arm.

Kiriko started to reach for one of the access holes but stopped short, unsure if she should.

"It's okay. You can touch her," Raniq murmured.

The skin was cool compared to Kiriko's hands. But so soft. She traced down spidery veins that showed through and stopped at a hand that was no bigger than her first finger joint. When it reflexively grabbed on, she drew in a sharp, surprised breath.

"Do you want to hold her?"

Kiriko pulled her gaze away but didn't move her hand. "Is that…allowed? I mean, she's all hooked up to everything in there."

"I hold her sometimes. It's good for them to have human contact."

She seemed to take Kiriko's question as an affirmative and started unlatching the top of the incubator. It swung up on a hinge along the back edge. Sapphire's legs and arms twitched but Raniq was quick to wrap her up in a blanket—as much as she could, anyway.

"Just be careful of all the tubes and wires."

Apprehensive as she was, Kiriko figured it was too late to back out now. Her arms came up automatically and she marvelled at the minuscule weight they accepted. She couldn't move, afraid that the slightest shift might dislodge something and damage the fragile body.

It was hard to accept that this was a real person that she was holding, and not just an odd-looking doll. She was a real, live person that would—hopefully—grow up and walk and talk and have her own thoughts. Her own wants and fears. Her own life.

As Kiriko stared down at the little face, two bright blue eyes cracked open and stared back, though unfocused. Kiriko's stomach seemed to drop right out of her body and she forgot how to breathe.

Raniq gasped. "She– She's never done that before! She should be sedated..." After a brief but frantic inspection of the IV, Sapphire's eyelids fluttered closed. "That was kind of weird. But she doesn't seem distressed. Maybe it was just a reflex."

Kiriko drew in a halting breath, unsure what had happened or what she was feeling or why she was feeling it. It was overwhelming and all she could do was gently set Sapphire back in the incubator.

She cleared her throat roughly. "Has Mara held her yet?"

"No…" Raniq seemed to be putting most of her attention into unwrapping Sapphire from the blanket and checking over all the tubes and wires. "Jojin has, but I think Mara is scared to. I'm trying not to push her."

"What's the matter with her?" Kiriko asked in a quiet but harsh voice. "She was so determined to keep both of them and now it's like she doesn't even care!"

Raniq didn't answer right away; instead, she took her time to refasten the incubator lid. "Why don't we talk out in the hall?"

Kiriko had no arguments. She needed a break from this place. It was beginning to be too much for her. Outside the door, she ripped off the hospital gown, balled it up, and threw it away. Her hands shook slightly and she clenched them into fists.

Finally, Raniq spoke. "Mara is grieving something neither of us can fully understand."

"I know what it feels like to lose someone," Kiriko said through gritted teeth.

"I know. I know you do. And I don't mean to minimize that. But it's still different. To lose a child… Spirits." She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and sniffed. "But it's more than that. She's been drowning in a soup of hormones that neither her body nor her brain were mature enough for. Post-partum depression is hard even for fully grown women; for her, it's magnified by about a thousand. Combine all of that with the fact that she's probably terrified that Sapphire won't survive… It's really not hard to see why she's having trouble bonding."

Having it all laid out like that, Kiriko felt a bit of grudging understanding creep in. "I guess…" she grumbled.

"Just out of curiosity, why do you care so much? I mean, I love that you do. It's…kind of sweet. But I'm just a little surprised."

"I don't know," she admitted, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And I'm too tired to try and figure it out."

"My next shift doesn't start for another six hours. I'd like to check on Mara and Jojin. Why don't we go?"

Kiriko cracked a smile, glad that Raniq was finally feeling hopeful enough to not spend every waking moment at Sapphire's side. Maybe things were as bad as they'd ever been, but she had a feeling they were going to get better soon.

"You've given up, haven't you?" Anisa asked Kiriko after she got back to Republic City. "You keep making excuses not to go out and look for Mom."

It was a brand new year. Time to move forward. And Kiriko refused to apologize for it. "I was going to die if I didn't stop. I hope you can understand that."

Anisa just nodded. There was a complicated expression on her face. The ever-present grief in her eyes was now mixed with anger, resentment, fatigue, and regret. "Yeah."

That was her only response for a couple of weeks. They talked, of course, but of other things. Mundane things. Avoiding the topic and ignoring the tension. It all finally came out one night over a very dumb argument.

"Ugh, why do you have to leave your shit everywhere?!" Anisa snapped after she tripped over one of Kiriko's shoes in the living room.

"Right, like you've never kicked off your shoes while watching television. Don't pretend like I'm the slob while you're a neat freak. Two days ago, Mom was telling you to get your dirty clothes out of the bathroom."

"It's Mama!" Anisa shot back, suddenly furious. "Not Mom. Mama. I don't know why that's so fucking hard for you to say. Mom is missing. You don't get to pretend like she never existed and go on with your life!" She was crying by that point, her words coming out half-strangled. "Just because she's not your birth mother doesn't mean she's less important!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Kiriko demanded, deeply hurt. "How can you say that? How can you think I don't love her as much as you do?! I did everything I could to find her. I ran myself ragged for months, and didn't stop until it literally almost killed me."

Anisa didn't appear to be listening. "And now no one will keep looking with me! It feels like I'm the only one who hasn't given up. Even Mama—even though she swears she hasn't—won't do anything." She fell to her knees and covered her face, shoulders heaving.

Angry as Kiriko was at the hurtful accusations, she couldn't bear to see her sister in such a state. Anisa had always been free with her emotions, and she had cried plenty of times since Korra went missing, but this felt different. It was too reminiscent of Kiriko's own breakdown after the nightmare.

So she knelt down and wrapped her arms around Anisa. They stayed there like that, holding on tight to each other, for a while. A long while. Until it became physically painful.

"I can't feel my legs," she finally said.

A soft noise came from Anisa—maybe something like a pitiful laugh—and she let go. "Me neither."

"Are we– Are we good?"

"Yeah. I didn't mean–"

"I know."

Anisa sniffed and wiped her face on her sleeve. "I won't give up on her, but I'm so tired. I miss my friends. I miss…having fun. I believe Mom is still out there somewhere, and I think she wouldn't want us to waste our lives being miserable and angry all the time."

I believe she's out there, too. Just…as a new person. A little baby earthbender.

That thought had surfaced several times in the last few weeks. She pushed it away, knowing it was stupid to think about it that way and create impossible fantasies in her mind. There were probably thousands of babies that fit the criteria.

"Yeah," was all she said aloud.

"Do you think–"

"What?"

It took Anisa a few more deep breaths to continue. "Do you think I could rejoin the team this year?"

"What? Are you serious?"

"It's something to do… Something to keep me busy–"

The last word came out as a squeak when Kiriko hugged her tightly. "Of course you can! I never did like Lotak that much. And he's not as good as you are."

"I know."

The front door opened before they made any move to get up. Asami walked in and looked at them curiously.

"What in the world are you two doing?"

"We had a fight," Anisa said matter-of-factly.

"...Okay? Should I run for cover?"

Kiriko pushed to her feet. Making up with Anisa had put her in a strangely affectionate mood and she realized it had been too long since she'd hugged her mom. With one parent gone, it suddenly felt vitally important to not take for granted the one that was still here.

"Love you, Mom," she murmured, giving her a tight squeeze.

"I love you, too…" It was said sincerely, but with a hint of confusion. Anisa joined them a moment later to make it a group hug. "Huh. Must've been some fight…"

Dear Kiriko,

I have amazing news! Saph is being discharged tomorrow! Spirits, I'm so excited. But also nervous. I know she's healthy, but she's still so small. I hope it all goes well. I hope Mara starts bonding with her more.

Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Hope you'll come see us soon!

Love,
Raniq

In the last three months, Kiriko had visited Zaofu four times. Sapphire—or Saph, as they'd all taken to calling her—was a little bigger each time. First, the ventilator had been removed. Then the feeding tube. She was drinking from a bottle now and rapidly gaining weight.

The visits would've been more frequent if Kiriko hadn't gotten into that fight with Anisa, which led to the two of them and Asami promising to spend more time with each other. They went out to restaurants and stayed in for movie nights and tinkered in her workshop. Several times, Mako joined them. They tried to find some joy in life, and were very slowly succeeding.

But still, Kiriko found herself drawn to Zaofu. Raniq was also family, as far as she was concerned, and Saph was an unknown quantity that held her fascination in a truly disconcerting way.

The train ride there showed a world bursting into spring. Green and flowers everywhere. Wide fields furrowed and sprouting. They zoomed by at a dizzying pace, but the scenery in the background—forests, hills, mountains, and finally the desert—seemed to remain fixed in place.

Kiriko's knee bounced with impatience. It had been three weeks since her last visit; Saph had been moved to a regular nursery unit by that point. Kiriko kept her distance and watched Mara hold her. Feed her with a bottle. It had been just as sad as before. Saph was proving to be a fussy baby. She almost always cried when Mara held her. Those small moments of mother-daughter bonding never lasted very long.

But she never cries when I hold her… Kiriko mused. Raniq had teased her about it—called her the 'baby whisperer' with a vague hint of jealousy.

It was dark by the time the train arrived. Dinner had come and gone, though Raniq fed her some leftovers. Mara, Jojin, and Saph were all asleep.

"Are you happy to be back home?" Kiriko asked.

"Spirits, yes. Don't get me wrong, it was nice having the extra help. I'm forever in Su's debt. And Opal. And Bolin. Even Toph was a trooper, trying her best to make friends with Mara and being understanding about her moods." She let out a breath and shook her head. "But it's much more peaceful here. I think Mara and Jojin prefer being left alone and not having people constantly ask them if they're okay."

"How much leave do you have?"

Raniq shrugged. "Well, you know how Zaofu is. If you have a child under three, one parent can take as much time off as they need until preschool. The foster agency has assigned a caretaker that'll be here five days a week for eight hours a day, so that'll allow me to work part-time. I'll just take on fewer patients. But I think I'm going to have a little break so we can figure out a good routine. A few months, maybe."

"I'm sure Su will be over here in an instant if you ever ask her to babysit," Kiriko said with a smirk.

"You're one to talk, Miss 'I Never Respond to Letters, I Just Hop on a Train and Show Up Unannounced.'

"What's the point of sending a letter if I'm going to get here before it does?"

They both laughed and Raniq eyed her with a pleased smile. "I'm so glad to see you happy again. Who knew all it would take was a baby…"

Kiriko rolled her eyes and scowled. "It's not that simple. It's a process. I still have a lot of bad days. Time helps. But the biggest thing was…letting go. Letting myself off the hook. And it wasn't easy."

"I know… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make light of it. I'm really proud of you and the progress you've made. It gives me hope that Mara will find her way out of the dark, too."

Kiriko had only just dozed off that night when fitful cries dragged her back to consciousness. It lasted for a while—long enough that Raniq got up to check on Mara and Jojin—and then happened three more times before morning.

"I think I'm going to need to wear earplugs while I'm here," she grumbled over a cup of strong black tea. "Or sleep at Su's house."

Raniq chuckled. "At least you don't have to get up every time."

"I'm not here to be a nanny or a babysitter. I'm here to be fun Auntie Kiriko."

"Oh, don't think you're going to get out of helping. You want baby cuddles, you're also going to change diapers and give her baths and everything else."

During Kiriko's visit, it quickly became apparent that Raniq and Jojin were handling the brunt of parenting. Mara mostly lay around and watched television. Sometimes she went out into the garden and practiced her earthbending. It usually ended with her lying face-down, shoulders heaving silently. Jojin would carry her back to bed—he'd really filled out in the last few months, though he was still small for his age—and the others wouldn't see her for a few hours.

When Mara and Jojin had a nap that first afternoon, Kiriko finally got to have her turn. Saph was fussing in Raniq's arms while she fixed a bottle per the instructions given.

"Make sure the water—"

"Is ninety-eight degrees, yes, I know. You've told me like a thousand times."

Fortunately, Raniq's kettle had a thermometer. All Kiriko had to do was watch it carefully, then pour the water into a bottle prepped with powdered formula and shake it up.

"Don't forget to–!"

Warm milk sprayed from the tip when she failed to hold her finger over it. "Oops…"

Raniq shook her head and laughed. "I'll let you clean that up while I feed her. She's getting impatient."

By the time Kiriko had found a towel, wiped up the mess, and tossed the towel in the laundry room, Saph's fussing was bordering on outright crying.

"C'mon, you like milk, remember?" Raniq said in her crooning baby-talk voice. She always made the most ridiculous faces when trying to get Saph to take a bottle. "Why do we have to go through this every time, huh?"

"I'm right here, you know," Kiriko joked.

"Ugh, fine. Take her. I don't want her to wake Mara and Jojin."

Saph was still small for a three-month-old—about the size of a typical newborn—but plump and cute now, as a baby should be. Fine black hair covered her head and bright blue eyes revealed themselves about ten seconds after Raniq handed her over. She calmed down and blinked up at Kiriko.

"It's not fair," Raniq complained when she passed over the bottle and Saph took it without protest. "Why does she like you so much? You're hardly ever here."

Kiriko sat down in a comfortable chair and once again discarded the idea of voicing her suspicions. They had lingered in the back of her mind for some time, but it wasn't until her most recent visit that she'd really given them any serious consideration.

Is it you? Do you know me? Aloud, she simply said, "Kids are weird and unpredictable. Don't take it so personally."

"I was mostly joking. I'm glad you two have bonded."

It was difficult to resist asking her if she wondered why they'd bonded. I really shouldn't get my hopes up about this. The chances are so slim. Mom was missing for months before Saph was born.

But…she was born the night I had that horrible nightmare…

"I've always thought babies were kind of boring," Kiriko said in an attempt to stop thinking about depressing things, "but she's pretty cute.

"Oh? Changing your mind about having your own one day?" Raniq asked with a smirk. "Have you got baby fever now?"

"Not even a little bit. If anything, this has only reinforced my desire to never put myself through that. Doesn't mean I have anything against babies in general."

Raniq made her give Saph back when the bottle was empty and she was sleepy and happy. "Ah, just look at that face. I'll never get tired of this. I know she's not mine, but…" She sighed—a mixture of contentment and wistful longing—and lowered her voice. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't pretend sometimes…"

"I'm shocked," Kiriko deadpanned.

"Oh, shush."

The next two months were so hectic that Kiriko didn't get to visit Zaofu at all, partially due to a busy social season which Asami and Anisa were intent on the three of them participating in, but mostly because Kiriko was determined to track down Niwen and beg her to rejoin the team. It became an obsession.

Finally, after weeks of calling around with absolutely no leads, Kiriko was leaving a party hosted by one of the city's corporate titans—a rival of Asami's, in fact; attending was apparently a strategic business move—when she spotted her old friend leaning against a stone pillar near the entrance.

"Well, look at you, all done up," Niwen said in a flat voice.

Kiriko gave her a weak smile, a little embarrassed. She didn't particularly enjoy playing the role of wealthy socialite. "I've been looking for you."

"I heard. Do you think I normally hang around outside high-class venues?" There was a sharp edge to her sardonic remark that was impossible to miss.

"Look, I'm really sorry about last year. I know I have no right to ask this–"

Niwen put her hand up. "I get it, okay? You were grieving. I'm sorry for your loss."

"I– Thank you." She didn't know what to say. It seemed like everything was okay between them…? Sort of?

"That said, the whole mess kinda turned me off to pro-bending."

"Oh."

"I wasn't going to come. I wanted to avoid this…awkward conversation. But…" She sighed and shook her head. "I need the money. My dad's company fell apart. We'll be living on the streets by the end of summer if I don't find something better than a minimum-wage job. So…here I am. I'll rejoin the team, but only if I can get an advance on the sponsorship paychecks."

"Of course! Absolutely. Anything you need."

Niwen gave her a strange, vaguely amused look. "Wow, are you really that desperate to have me come back?"

"I want you on the team. You've been with us since the beginning. It's not about winning–"

"Wow. You, uh– You've really changed. I thought you were all about winning."

It sounded like a joke, but Kiriko couldn't find the humor in it. "I still want to win, obviously. But…it's not my first priority anymore. I used to think losing a game was the worst thing in the world. Now I know better."