Responses to Reviews:

RonaldM40196867: Unfortunately, probably one of Aang's Team Avatar. They're not young any more by the time of Korra after all.

Zigzagdoublezee: There was a typo, it should have been Hari Bulkan and I have changed it. But it has just recently been revealed that it is the official name of the Fire Nation capital city in the caldera. The Northern Water Tribe City's name was also revealed to be Agna Qel'a.

Hiroshi

Hiroshi Sato's stomach lurched as his flying machine plunged off the edge of the flight deck and dropped several feet towards the water. He gritted his teeth and pulled back on the stick, and after a nervous moment felt the engine roar and the aircraft begin to lift itself up into the sky. The carrier receded into the distance behind him.

From up here, he had a pretty good view of the battlefield, and he could tell that it wasn't going well for the Allies. Their line of battle was strung out and increasingly ragged. The two carriers were cruising north away from the battle, because they needed to be going into the wind to launch flying machines, and because they didn't have the armour or weapons to stand up in a close range fight against battleships.

The problem for the allies was it didn't look like any of their other ships did either. Several wrecked and sinking ships dotted the ocean, the tiny silhouettes of debris and crewmen floating in the water around them. He watched as another spirit laser blew the bows off a Republican battleship. Those ships which had not been hit were taking desperate evasive manoeuvres, either to avoid ramming each other, the shipwrecks, or taking a spirit laser. He narrowed his eyes, checked the instruments on his dashboard, and put the flying machine into a shallow dive as he pointed it towards Kuvira's ship.

As it grew larger in his vision, Hiroshi was struck by how big it was. It was clearly much larger than any other ship on the battlefield, bright silver, with enclosed turrets with multiple spirit lasers. It did not have any funnels, which made Hiroshi wonder whether it had any boilers. But considering the purple jet which whizzed past him at that moment, he suspected he knew how it was powered.

Hiroshi checked the altimeter as he raced towards it. The other pilots had been spooked by that laser, had dropped their torpedoes too early. He couldn't allow himself to make the same mistake. He needed to be absolutely certain his torpedo struck home because if he didn't...

The thought of his daughter went through his mind.

2,000 yards.

This was why he hadn't wanted her to go to war. It was sheer luck that that spirit laser hadn't hit the Taka. But that luck wouldn't hold forever, not unless the lasers were taken care of. He leaned out of the cockpit and looked down, seeing what he already knew; his landing gear was nearly skimming the top of the waves, perfect for minimising the impact of the torpedo and ensuring it would run smoothly.

1,800 yards.

He was closing fast, hopefully too fast for Kuvira to react. They didn't seem to have noticed him yet, they were still firing at the other ships, and were still sailing on a steady course. He watched the guns fire, and his aircraft shook with the vibrations as several purple lasers went past him. He dared not look at where they were going.

1,500 yards.

Behind him, the radio set in the second seat began to crackle. He assumed that was Asami, trying to get him to come back. He wanted to do that, but felt he had no choice but to go through with this first. The captain of the Taka had said as much when Hiroshi had told him of his intention to go alone. The man had nodded, wished him luck and then turned to face the window with an unreadable face.

1,400 yards.

Whatever the captain's true feelings were about the possibility of success, Hiroshi hadn't been able to tell. He wondered if that even mattered to the man. Hiroshi knew he was hated in the ranks of the Republican Navy. After all, these flying machines had been employed once before, by men that captain and his comrades no doubt regarded as terrorists, to sink Republican ships, and potentially kill their crews. Hiroshi had believed at the time that he was acting for a good cause. Even the revelation that Amon had been a waterbender the whole time, and thus a hypocrite, hadn't been enough to dissuade him. Even his estrangement from the only family he had left hadn't been enough to do that. Perhaps it should have been. Amon had had good ideas, but none of them compared to Asami. But he knew that the captain was unlikely to mourn him if things went wrong.

1,200 yards.

By now, Hiroshi was close enough to see figures on the deck of Kuvira's ship, figures pointing at him and running about presumably in alarm. Surprise was no longer an option.

He pushed the throttle forwards and heard the engine roar as he rushed to close the distance.

1,000 yards.

The mighty turrets were beginning to swing themselves around; any moment now Hiroshi knew he was going to find himself staring down their barrels.

950 yards.

He flicked open a cover on the top of the flight stick and brushed his finger over the small red button that would launch the torpedo. He could see the wake shift behind the ship as it began to turn in, but it was too late. Just a little further and he would be close enough that he couldn't possibly miss.

900 yards.

A strange serenity swept over him. the rush of seaspray, the roar of the engine, all faded into the background. He looked down at his dash again, to a photo he had pinned to it before he took off. His daughter gazed back at him, frozen at some happier time in the past. His heart swelled with pride.

800 yards.

Then he looked up, and pressed the button. The flying machine lurched upwards as it was freed from the weight of the torpedo, which fell away. He heard the splash as it hit the water, and glanced backwards to see a trail of bubbles moving towards the enemy ship.

A successful launch.

But as he looked back towards Kuvira, he caught sight of one of the turrets aimed directly at him, the barrel glowing with a purple energy. Time slowed down, and he knew that just as Kuvira was too close to dodge the torpedo now, he was too close to dodge this. He glanced back down at his dash, and looked at Asami again. He just hoped that he had done enough for her, that he had made things right again.

The last thing Hiroshi Sato saw was his daughter, before Amon, before prison, before Kuvira, laughing as she leaned against him, both of them posing for the photographer they had hired as he unsuccessfully tried to look serious.

And then the purple overtook him.